Stained Credence. Book One: The Wretched

FOUR

The video played again.

"What exactly are we looking for at this point?" Grady was beyond holding back his mounting frustration. Even if he could have controlled his attitude, it had been made obvious that it would have done little good. His arguments, feeble as they were, that he should be excused had been candidly dismissed by Anika.

She ignored both his question and foul demeanor, which by this point seemed more instinctual than habitual, and continued watching the same replay of the woman walking around the room, languidly dragging her hand across the walls.

He had now been here for two days and could not help but wonder why he had been requested. Any semblance of feeling elite had withered away, leaving him with the dusty, dried-up feeling of being a putz. Anika had made it more than apparent his opinion was obsolete and his existence entirely non-essential. One of his standing arguments had even been that he was wholly unqualified, which she had laughed until tears streamed from her eyes and cattily responded by assuring him that he was far beyond under-qualified.

He looked at the monitor again. Seeing the woman only angered him more. She was being improperly treated; he never would have allowed a patient to go without human interaction for so long, much less without food or drink. Yet another opinion Anika had dismissed. This was not a prison, but a place designed and meant for rehabilitation for the mentally diseased. And when rehabilitation could not reach their abstract minds, they were given all the respect any decent human deserves.

He was tenacious about his patient's well-being and this one had been receiving less benefits than a convicted pedophile.

"What do you think she's saying, Grady?"

"Probably that she's thirsty." He answered pointedly.

Ignoring his exasperated sarcasm, "It seems rather chant-like to me. What do you say?"

Without bothering to look at the screen again, "She could very well be chanting 'I'm so parched' over and over. Aside from that, I say that a high-resolution copy has been sent to a lip reader, from what you said, so he should be allowed to do his job and we should probably do ours. Part of which, simply enough, is feeding and watering her. Pretend she's a stray cat, if that makes you feel better about yourself."

Anika ignored him again. A surge of anger heated his body and, realizing he was dangerously close to losing his professionalism, walked away from her and the screen to the break room where he pulled a slice of cold pizza out of the refrigerator and opened a can of coke. Leaned against the counter, he absent-mindedly ate, drank, and pondered. A slice and a half later, Anika walked in.

Grady immediately quit chewing and blatantly leaned over the trash can to spit what was in his mouth into it, tossing the remaining uneaten slice.

She walked straight for the refrigerator and helped herself to the pizza and coke. "So, what do you feel needs to be the next step," she asked.

Giving himself a moment before answering. Forcing himself to remember that he should take the opportunity to invoke the 'you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar' theory and gently suggested, "I think we should move her out of the observation room and into one of the dormitories, give her a meal and water then begin working with her."

Anika chewed her pizza and Grady hoped she was considering his proposal and not continuing to ignore him. He struggled to suppress his, once again, rising anger. He could not help but notice how grossly she ate; smacking and slurping, dripping and burping while she barbarically demolished the pizza. She tore and chewed the pizza like she'd just brought down a wildebeest in the savanna. He tried to hide his revulsion along with his curdling anger.