The Psychiatrist: Trilogy to The Doll Collector

Chapter 7: Maria

My face was burning from the hot soup. I looked at myself in the mirror after washing up and shook my head at my reddening skin. It was tender to the touch. Zach knocked on the door, asking me if I was okay. His voice was muffled, but I could detect the concern. Embarrassment burned hotter than the soup, as I replayed what had happened.

Everything was going fine, and then that patient flipped out. His disruption was so sudden. I shook my head, leaning into the sink to run cold water over my face again. It refreshed my poor skin, but it was still tender when I dabbed it with a napkin.

My mind was on Kris, and how he had surely gotten dragged away. The security here were was quick to respond to outbursts apparently, and Kris seemed to be heading into one of his own. I just wondered what the punishment was like here. St. John's used solitary confinement and that worked on teenagers. In fact, they liked being left along for long periods of time. The real punishment would have been group therapy.

Zach knocked again and I pulled the door back. He gave me a cold pack wrapped in a paper towel, hooking a finger around a strand of hair to see the damage. The skin was probably getting redder by the second.

He apologized for the outburst, even though it wasn't his fault. I thanked him for the cold pack, turning when I heard shoes on the floor. On the way was another doctor. I glanced at his jacket, Dr. Matthew Cannon.

His expression held controlled concerned, as if he were trying to eliminate the look of panic. But, when I looked at Zach, he too had the same expression.

Dr. Cannon stopped in front us, extending his hand out for a handshake and formally introduced himself. He skipped all other pleasantries, announcing that we had to make our way to the atrium, as Dr. Lamb needed all staff there.

"The atrium?" I asked.

I hadn't been shown that room when I arrived. Dr. Cannon asked us to hurry before running off to see if anyone else had missed the message.

Zach cleared his throat, and said, "Jordana, we have to get there quickly."

"What's the atrium?" I asked, again.

"I'm sure you can imagine that a place like this needs controls."

I nodded.

"Well, this is Dr. Lamb's control."

"I don't like the way that sounds."

"Um... you'll see when we get there. Just keep your head down."

He jerked his head to the right, signaling the direction for me to follow. The soup had dried onto my lab coat, staining it yellow with bits of food that clung to the material. Embarrassment flooded through me again. The entire staff would be present and would see me looking so disorderly. If only I could dash to my office and put on a fresh jacket before I was known as the doctor who wore soup.

We continued through various corridors, entering deeper and deeper into the hospital. I could hardly keep up with Zach's pace. His long legs took strides even I couldn't take if I tried to run. The cold pack bobbed you and down my face as I held it tightly, all the while trying to keep up.

The more I struggled, the angrier I became at that patient for doing this to me. That idiot. What the hell was his problem, anyway? Zach turned a corner, then another, and continued on down a much longer corridor. My god, where the hell, were we going?

Zach rounded one last corner, and my irritation dissipated the moment we arrived at a steel door. Its location was clandestine, because I had paid zero attention to how many corridors we'd gone through. This wasn't a part of the hospital I had been introduced to, so it was obviously not a place that frequented many visitors unless you knew exactly where to go. There were three cameras pointed down at us, their red lights blinking.