Psychotic Figures (Jalex)

Chapter Ten

Body checks. If there's any day that will have tears, it's today. Vinny knocks on my door and I get up. 

"So you'll only be taking care of Jack, so it shouldn't be too bad. I pray for Gerard. He has like ten patients." 

I click my tongue. "How the hell does he do that? I can barely handle one for God's sake!" I throw my hands up. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"I have no clue, dude. Honestly, just watching you guys talk to them gives me a headache. Sometimes I so... Worried that you'll get hurt, Alex. I mean, you're relatively new, and you're a good kid. It'd be a shame if something happened to you." 

"I'm being careful, Vinny. I really am," I answer softly. We walk out of the elevator. 

He stops at my door. "Austin will be in with Jack soon," he says. "Be careful, Alex. Seriously. I know you think Jack isn't really the type to kill you or whatever, but you never know."

"I know, Vinny. I will," I sigh before walking in. I check the scale. I hear the door open and a grunt. I turn and stare at Jack, glaring at Austin. 

"Jack, please take your shoes off," Austin whispers. Jack rolls his eyes and slips them off. 

"Dr. Gaskarth," Austin nods at me. "Now Jack, please stand straight, we need to check your height before we can continue." 

Jack scoffs and crosses his arms. 

"Jack," I wait for him to look up at me. "Please." 

He purses his lips and walks over to the stand slowly. "Jack, stand straight," Austin walks over, and checks his height. 

"Don't touch me," Jack seethes. Austin stiffens before nodding. He writes the height down. 

"Now, you're going to have to strip down to your underwear, okay?" 

Jack tenses and clenches his fist. 

"Hey, Jack? It's okay. No one's here to judge you." 

He unclenches his fist and stares at me. "O-Okay," he walks into the room. No door, but at least he gets a bit of privacy. 

"How do you do that? How do you get them to feel... I don't know, comfortable?" 

"Just make them feel like this is a safe place, I guess." 

Jack pokes his head out, water in his eyes. 

I walk over. "Jack, are you okay?" He shakes his head. "It's going to be fine Jack, can you step out." 

He timidly steps out and wraps his arms around his stomach. 

"Jack, can you stand on here?" I point to the scale. The scale is made so the number shows up on a separate remote, so the patient can't see their weight. 

We realized that they can still turn around and see their weight, so we needed to find a way to change it. This way, the patients are less likely to freak out. 

"Alright, Jack, you can stand off now," I say, staring down at the number. He's gained about three pounds and hasn't gotten taller. He's still technically underweight, but at least he's getting a bit better. But I'm sure the lack of weight is due to depression. 

I stare back at him. "Okay Jack, you're going to have to move your arms, it's just a quick check," I mumble. He bites his lower lip and slowly moves his arms away. 

I can see his ribs- or his bones in general. He still has bruises, but that wasn't his fault. When the attack happened, the nurse wrote down where every bruise was.