Confinement

As storm clouds began to build outside around the old, dark, lifeless stone building that sent fear running through your core and send any sane person running in to opposite direction. A crash of thunder sounded as lightning struck above the building lighting it up, birds swiftly ascending into the dark skies leaving the lone figure of one woman stood in front of the building. She stood tall and stern in a black suit focused on the poor excuse for a building. Standing assertively she starred inside the distressing building, where two tall men in navy blue outfits stood looking despondently out the window with their clipboards in hands.

“More gloomy weather to see us through the night again.” One of the doctor’s voices boomed, echoing through the abandoned ward with fewer than 8 patients filling the beds, all asleep and peaceful. Rain was hitting heavy against the dismal, old windows, as raindrops raced down to the rotten window ledge that barley held its structure.

“Hmm,” his college grunted in agreement as he stepped away from the window placing his clipboard on the side and his hands on his hips as he thought about the night ahead “you never know, the patient’s might start up a party tonight.”

Both men chuckled before stern faces replaced their grins as they turned to the door way where an unusual figure emerged from the hall. Her shadow grew closer as the men grew more alarmed. She stepped forward into the one remaining flickering light revealing her pale skin and taut black hair in a bun on the top of her head. She folded her arms looking around the room in disapproval “I’m looking for Mr Watkins.” Her voice sharp in the quiet night.

The men looked at each other before turning back to her.

“He’s in his office take a right at the end of the corridor,” one of the doctors responded pointing  down the hall behind her and shrinking down as the woman’s icy glare beard down on him. She turned as the sound of her heels echoed behind.

In a dreary office where only the sounds of water dripping into a bucket below from the broken pipe in the celling and the grumbling of the man that was buried behind the mounds of paper work covering a large oak desk could be heard. Suddenly the door opened making the man jump as he knocked the paper everywhere, “Mr Watkins I presume?” The woman asked her harsh voice making his spine shiver.

“Y-y-y-yes,” he stuttered stumbling around to pick up the fallen paper and dropping more as he went, “You must be Ms…” he held his hand out introducing himself, “Sorry it’s been a long day.”

“Ms Carmichael” she reluctantly held out her limp, bony hand with veins sticking out, “I believe I am due for an inspection of this ‘lovely’ hospital you have here,” she said wiping her figure against the dust filled surface and brushing it off on her jacket as her nose turned at the thought of having to inspect this place.

“Yes, Of course, right this way Ms Carmichael” Mr Watkins put his papers down and lead her out into the hallway.

Mr Watkins went to open the creaking, cell door to room twenty-five, “Here you’ll find Mr Oliver, he is one of our longest serving patients, never any trouble.” as he spoke the stench of stale blood and fresh flesh seeped through the cracks of the door. Mr Watkins knocked on the door and looked through the hole to see if he was in his room but what Mr Martin saw was much worse. Mr Oliver was indeed in his room, but was laid in a pool of blood eyes were rolled to the back of his head and only remained a skeleton like body. Ms Carmichael pushed open the door and shrieked in terror stumbling back raising her hand to her mouth and her skin paled even more.

“Dear God! HELP” Mr Watkins screamed as the two doctors rushed to see what was going on, one of the doctors covered his mouth and turned away, “What happened?” One of the doctors asked stepping towards the body.