Delirium (Creepypasta x reader)

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The medical ward in the mansion was a doctor's dream – and a serial killer's fantasy.

It was located in the west wing and composed of two rooms, one larger than the other. These were used for the purpose of healing, dissection, and storage of medical supplies and organs. The largest room was about fifteen by twenty feet and served as the primary surgical centre. The smaller room was about eight by ten feet and connected to the larger room by a curved wood doorway; this was an office space used to keep track of stock in the cupboards and fridges, as well as injury reports. The Lord enforced this kind of organization in the Family.

The walls were all made of a light-coloured, stained wood and the floor was grey tile. In the large room the rightmost wall consisted of cupboards of all sizes, with hand-printed labels that included braille describing the inventory within each. A two-compartment stainless steel sink was installed in the middle of the wall alongside a foot of counter space on the left-hand side. One compartment was filled near to the brim with a steaming solution of chemicals and water with several objects submerged in it.

A medical exam table stood in the middle of the room, with several thick, brown leather straps and buckles to tie a body down with. A compact overhead mobile light source stood at attention, ready to spotlight the next patient.

The left wall, in comparison to the right, was lacking cupboards and mostly bare. A few diagrams of the human body were taped upon it, including notes and hand printed incision points over the arteries and organs. A fridge/freezer combo was shoved in the nearest corner, with a small white board attached with magnets hanging on it. There was a short, three bullet point "To get" list scribbled on it.

At the furthest wall was a curtain partition attached to the ceiling, concealing a full hospital bed and a couple chairs in which three proxies sat as their fellow, Nurse Ann, did what she had done all her life and subsequent afterlife.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Stop squirming, you're ruining my stitching." Ann said tonelessly, slapping Masky's other hand away from the injury. She pressed down on his fingers, spreading them as she continued to seal the bite mark up on his palm. She worked quickly, methodically, sewing in a firm, curved path. Surgeon's stitch: a fast and easy classic - if the patient wasn't a huge pain. Unfortunately, this was not the case, as Masky was a whiny bitch at the best of times.

"I'm still surprised you put your hand close enough to their mouth. You're usually smarter than that." she commented idly. Masky huffed, the angle of his mask making it obvious that he was glaring at her, of which she ignored.

"Fuck off Ann, I wasn't expecting the candidate to go on the offensive." he replied, snippy. Ann rolled her eyes.

"It was defense. When an animal is under stress caused by danger and flight isn't an option, biting is a defensive move in response to whatever gets close to the face. It's instinct."

Sewing the last stitch, she tied a simple end knot and clipped the thread with a small pair of surgical scissors.

"I'd rather toss one of Ben's games in the trash than put my hand anywhere near an animal's mouth. You're lucky they didn't sever a tendon." she threw the rest of the thread and disposed of her gloves in a garbage bin beside the bed, setting the needle down on a metal tray held on the rolling table next to her.

"Ha!" Masky exclaimed, "you say that, but you haven't had the ankle biter make your morning hell."

Ann snorted, brushing her hands off on her black pants and tugging the sleeves of her purple shirt back up to her elbows.

"That's because I don't go around causing problems. Anyway, your hand will be fine in two or three days. The stitches are Vicryl so they'll be absorbed, no need to come back down." she cracked the knuckles on her right hand, three popping at once and the fourth following as she applied pressure.