No sleep for the wicked, an old saying with no meaning, because I am not the wicked I am just afraid. Afraid of what my own imagination could produce is such a small time. I no longer slept for the fear of myself, and that made me even more of a target for anyone out there. I kept myself hidden, working a small quiet job at Arkham asylum. I’m one of the first aiders; the asylum thought that nurses were too much of a target for lunatics so they just employed me and David instead.
“Ashleigh are you ok?” I nodded while staring blankly at a peeling bit of paint on the white wash wall in the first aid office. It was four o’clock in the morning and I was already board. Then there was a knock on the office door, first victim of the day. David got up to answer the door to see it was Harvey Dent being carried in be two armed guards, “what happened to this one Oakley?” Oakley was one of the many guards who tried to stop aggression between the lunatics, often they would be the ones getting hurt. “This one here got in a little fight with Man Bat; even though he’s got that straight jacket on he sure knows how to kick someone’s face in.” David gave a small chuckle and helped Oakley drag Harvey over to the examination table.
Harvey only had one eye open and that was on his good side, it seemed that only his acid burned side got the main force of the kicks. Harvey hadn’t uttered a word, which was odd. “Harvey is there anywhere else that has lacerations?” he moved his chin upwards and as I looked, there were large gashes which curled right round his neck, and all three of them poured blood heavily.
Soon after shock took over Harvey Dent, “Get the trauma kit!” David rushed out of the office and came back with a vile of morphine, a head brace and restraints. I grabbed the bottle of alcohol and the stitching kit. Harvey was now restrained, his blood was running fast and pooling at the base of his neck. I grabbed a bottle of alcohol and pulled the cork out. I grabbed a needle and then dipped it into the alcohol.
This was going to hurt. Oakley restrained Harvey as much as possible as I started to stitch up Harvey’s wound. Harvey’s face contorted in even more pain as the needle went through his skin, each pull of the string caused Harvey’s face to twist and contort horrifically, and then it was over. I took his pulse, and then turned away to give Harvey some pain relief, I filled a syringe with morphine, and gently slipped it into his arm.
His eyes didn’t seem to be filled with hate as his eyes closed, more like gratitude. I spent five more minuets cleaning up his wounds and bandaging him up. Oakley left the room to get a stretcher for Harvey. Let’s just hope I don’t have another person like that today.
YOU ARE READING
No sleep for the wicked
RomanceNobody chose to live in Gotham city, they were all born here, the crazy, the corrupt and the sane. Ashleigh Clark was born into this life, more than others. Her life belongs to Arkham Asylum, everyday she ventures into the world of the insane, becau...
