Fear | K.th [Editing]

Pain [7°]

"Evangeline. Evangeline, I need you to respond to my voice." The woman's eyes ease open once she hears loud snapping next to her ear. She squints, the brightness of the room straining her field of vision. A man calls her name and tells her to look toward him. Two fingers appear in front of her view, directing her eyes to follow them until she lands on Jung, the psychiatrist she had previously met only for a short time before being hauled away.

He praises Evangeline for cooperating, then tells her to close her eyes again and reopen them to adjust her eyes. Once doing so he holds up four digits, asking how many fingers she sees. She murmurs out the number and he nods.

Jung smiles once he's able to get Evangeline conscious and talking. "How are you feeling this morning?"

She struggles to swallow, "Throat. Sore." Jung steps away from her to grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water from the sink on the counter.

He lowers his upper body to adjust the medical table, maneuvering the woman up into a more diagonal position compared to the one that kept her laying down. He lifts her chin to aid her in gulping down the water. She was so thirsty. It felt like she hadn't had a glass of water in days, some droplets dribbling down her chin.

Before Evangeline can finish the water, Jung pulls the cup away to reveal two orange pills in his other hand. "Here, take these. It'll ease the headache you'll start feeling later." He holds the pills up, waiting for her to open her mouth. She parts her lips and he places the pills onto her tongue before giving her the rest of the water.

Evangeline pants, mind still groggy. She scans the room, then asks why she feels so terrible. Jung glances toward the woman, placing the empty glass onto the counter before clearing his throat.

"Well, Kim had me come in to check on you once everyone left. You were screaming and crying and you wouldn't stop no matter how many times I tried to soothe you." He pushes his glasses further up his nose as his eyes lower in thought, finger curled against his chin. "I suppose it has to do with the stressful events you were put through without careful observation, and it caused a sort of—anxiety attack." His hands brush down his long sleeve grey sweater tucked into a pair of darker grey pants. Then he fixes one of the cuffs off of the white dress shirt underneath. His hands clasp in front of him. Then they come out as he chuckles to ease the air. "But, you're fine now, of course."

Sensing that there was no change in the atmosphere after trying to lighten the mood, he brings his arm up to cough into his hand before shifting around to look for the clipboard he had brought in earlier.

"I originally came in here to ask you some questions and take a few blood samples. Then, Jupiter will come in to escort you to the cafeteria." Evangeline lays her head back against the table, eyes closing as Jung busies himself. She's finally able to eat something. Her stomach begins to growl at the unconditioned stimuli. The woman looks over at the psychiatrist and asks how long she's been in here. He doesn't say anything though, back facing her to pretend he didn't hear. She sighs, changing her question.

"Is this place like a prison?"

He chuckles, tilting his head as he ponders her question. "Prisons don't strap their inmates to a table or consider them patients." He looks over his shoulder and toward the woman. He shrugs, "This establishment is classified as a Mental Institution."

Evangeline shakes her head, "I don't have any mental disorders—so, why am I here?" Jung turns back to the counter, gaze lowering to his hands. He doesn't answer the woman. He grabs a tray and walks over to Evangeline, placing the tray down on the steel table next to her.