Mercy

Prologue

I work at the local loony-bin.

Most of the time the reaction get from that statement is along the lines of a blank stare or a trailed off "That's...nice..." (followed promptly by their excuse for leaving the conversation). So many people think it's strange and honestly I really can't figure out why. It's not like the place is gruesome, or grimy or anything. It's actually very clean and welcoming – the floors are always sparkling, all the light fixtures are in perfect order, and I often joke that the countertops shine brighter than my future (a very likely statement at the moment). The front desk has complementary mints, and the bathrooms have hot towels. Yea, hot towels. In every bathroom. Hell, the place even smells good.

On top of that, all the nurses and employees I've met so far are super nice (and not in that creepy "I'm definitely a robot or murderous stalker" way either). They're totally normal and chill. Just everyday people working their everyday jobs.

Honestly, I don't think a random person would be able to tell the difference between where I work and any other hospital in the county if they were brought in blindfolded. People just like to hate on Mental Hospitals, I think. I blame Hollywood and horror stories.

That's not to say there aren't any similarities to how the public may perceive places like these. Some patients are a bit... off the wall. But I stress the word some. Not all. And even then, I feel there is still something to be learned from those "special" people. I believe you've just got to look hard enough.

I guess I could say that's what attracts me to the place the most - the patients. I don't think the public realizes just how similar some of them can be to people outside the hospital. I spend time with the patients. I talk with them. Often times I find they have a lot to say. Important things. At least, important to me, anyway...

I enjoy befriending them. I enjoy taking care of them. I'm learning more about myself throughout the process, too.

What started off a volunteering gig on a mere whim has now turned into a paid internship well worth my time (and rather quickly, I must say). I'm sure Grandma would be proud of me.

So I'll continue to work here, despite the weird looks and the occasional rumor or two. Mercy Hospital and Rehabilitation Center for the Mentally Afflicted has thoroughly captured my attention, and I can't wait to find out more...