Defective

Prologue

Beep beep.

"Dr Garcia to Resus, Dr Garcia to Resus" a distant voice calls over the loudspeaker.

The smell of disinfectant comforts my lungs, filling every breath I take. A relatively new plastic bracelet hangs limply around my pale wrist, my name, age, department and allergies hastily scribbled on it from the morning before. Hospital policy dictated a new wristband be contrived every two weeks but this one had been a month coming. I guessed the staff were short staffed because of the new cutbacks.

A familiar male nurse rushed past holding a large stack of tottering bed pans, heading in the direction of the front desk.

'Wrong,' I thought to myself, swinging my feet back and forth as the hot cup of coffee in my right hand began to burn at the skin, 'the bedpans always go in the back storage cupboard.'

I slowly began to trace the wood patterns etched into the arm of the chair with one hand, the flat surface smooth and shiny in contrast with the dark crooked lines. Looking away, I sipped my bitter drink, the dismal murky liquid scalding my tongue.

"Where do you think you're going with those? They go in the back, you dunce!" came the recognizable piercing cry at the reception desk down past the end of the corridor.

Head Nurse Islington had to be my favourite of all the A&E employees, I thought to myself. She was one of the youngest head nurses in the hospital's history at 31 (believe me, I had checked the records twice in disbelief) and also the most amusing. Having been here for so long though, I knew she was a kind soul, loyal to her staff and devoted to her patients (however brief their encounters may be).

The now-flustered male nurse returned with the pile of even-more-precarious-looking pile of bedpans, this time heading in the opposite direction. I had definitely seen him before, with his stand-out spiky ginger hair contrasting along side the mandatory bright pink scrubs of a trainee nurse. Most ran them in the wash a couple dozen times in attempt to fade the colour but his were still practically glowing.

Just a few feet from me, the back band of his left croc catches on the side of a loitering trolley. He has just enough time to look up, making a panicked eye contact with me before beginning his rapid descent towards the ground.

The metal chambers clattered against the floor near the base of my chair as I pulled my feet up in fright. The nurse cursed under his breath as he began to pick himself and his pans up, even more agitated and flustered.

"Are you okay?" I say without thinking, my voice hoarse from not speaking often. Stupid question, he appears to be fine.

The nurse looks up in surprise at me, stopping stock still in his frantic grabbing motion, eyes wide open. Many of the newer staff have seen me hanging around here but I've never made any move to speak to them, simply watching as they go about their daily duties. Eventually they just learn to ignore my presence, as if I'm a painting on a wall.

My addressing of them was certainly an interesting development.

"I-I'm fine, thanks." he stutters, surprised at my speech (much like myself). I slowly unfurl my legs and crouch down on the floor. Careful to keep my head down, I began to help pick up some of the bed pans, stacking them in a small neat pile, all the while conscious of his bewildered gaze on me.

Snapped out of his dumbstruck state by my movement, he slowly went back to picking up the pans after a few seconds, wary of touching my hands, thankfully. Once all of the chambers were collected up, we stood, still avoiding eye contact, as I balanced mines on top of his.The boy offered a quiet thank you and I nodded my head in concession, tucking a small strand of my short copper hair behind my ear as I turned to walk away, my coffee long forgotten where it rested beside my abandoned armchair.

"Hey!" he called out, grabbing my attention enough to look back, already a few feet away. "Do you want to walk with me?" he suggested, gesturing his head in the direction of the back storage closet.

I paused, side on, tempted to walk away, pretend I hadn't heard his question or simply choose to ignore it's existence as it hung in the air like an overbearing shadow. My mind screamed with reasons I should leave, memories of the past but my brain instead chose to simply replay the message given by my behavioural psychiatrist Dr Keffler at our latest session - 'You may be stuck in this place for the time being but you are only confined to the walls you build around yourself. Maybe it's time to open another door? That can be your challenge for next week.'

Challenges are made for a reason, I thought to myself.

I took a deep breath and giving him a reluctant nod, moved tentatively in his direction. Sensing my hesitation, he cautiously turned around and began walking away slowly. He glanced behind him to check I was following as he slowly made his way down the corridor. Increasing my speed, I caught up with him, matching him stride for stride.

"So what's your name?" he asked, curiously peering at me. I looked away to the side, my elbows folded as the linoleum squeaked beneath our feet.

"I go by Coby," I breathed, nervously fidgeting with the skin on the back of my hand, the feeling of being so close to a stranger beginning to choke me with anxiety. I tried to swallow the fears down..

"Abe but without the beard," he said smiling reassuringly, "or the presidency. I'm a first year nurse here."

"I can tell." I replied without thinking, realising how the words sounded just as they left my lips.

"Ouch, nice to know I'm doing so well" he asserted jokingly, a tell-tale smirk spread across his cheeky face.

"Oh no, not like that! I just mean because of the scrubs!" I explained, embarrassed by the missing link between my brain and mouth.

"Mate, you're way too easy," Abe teases, laughing.

This feels good, I tell myself, light hearted chatter spurting back and forth between us like a little ping pong ball - harmless, I tell myself. I haven't talked to anyone new that was near my age in what feels like a decade and even then, the lad still probably has a good seven years on me.

We arrived at the closet storage door and without thinking, I helpfully typed the key code into the entry pad, opening the door. 1798.

"Are you supposed to know that?" Abe asked, concerned.

"Being here for four years, you pick up on a lot of things you aren't supposed to know." I respond quickly, rolling my eyes as I unintentionally reveal more personal information. He gives me a look but doesn't push it any further.

As I nudge the door open with my elbow allowing Abe room to dump the bedpans, I spot him looking with curiosity at my hospital armband, which is extended outwards. I've almost forgotten what it details myself, caught up in the casual banter, as I too glance down at the colours on my bracelet.

Orange. Mental Health Ward.

Light Purple. Past of High Risk.

Grey. Highly medicated.

All medical staff are trained to remember the colour system in case of emergency including trainee nurses such as himself. I swap arms, hiding my wrist behind my back as I search his face and actions for the usual disgust and pity.

Eyebrows furrowed, his lips purse into a frown as he slides in the door past me to lower the chambers to the floor. However as he turns around to face me a reasonably sincere smile hangs on the corners of his freckled cheeks. I notice it doesn't quite reach his eyes though.

"Listen, I've got to go finish the rest of my shift but I have a coffee break tomorrow at 11 if you want to meet up?" he offered, a hopeful yet nervous look on his face.

"Um, I guess t-that would be cool.."I muttered, nervous at the possibility of having a normal, every-day friend. If it put me one step closer to recovery however.

"11am, meet me in the cafeteria? Catch you later, Coby!" he yelled, already out of the closet and moving down the corridor.

I watched him walk until he turned the corner, wrapping my hoody tighter around my body, the usual clinical chill of the ER penetrating my bones. As I began my slow ascent up the stairs to the department I've called home for the last few years, I feel exhausted from the effort of a little socialising yet a small excited grin crosses my face as I look forward to the prospect of tomorrow for the first time in weeks.

Beeeeep.