Psychosis.

Chapter 6

1954, 56 Main St. Bakerland mental institution.

Elizabeth Woods' POV

Bein' a nurse is not exactly what many folks would consider easy, and the ones who would, well, they're not usually nurses, are they?

Today a poor young lad came in, couldn't have been older than 14,

His parents had passed away and he was left alone, reckon he hadn't been actin' right cause he wound up here.

Poor little thing started havin' nervous breakdowns the first few night's, eventually we were ordered to give the boy electric shock therapy.

Mr. Gilliard said it was for the best, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Mary had to step in and take the heat for me.

I just couldn't stop thinkin' of my beloved son who isn't much older than that boy.

What if that were him?

I cried myself to sleep that night, I couldn't help it. Sometimes I feel like I'm helpin' these people, other day's I reckon they'd be better off in a box under a bridge somewhere.

Any how, we got a new patient today, a 30 somethin' year old gentleman who goes by the name of Christopher Pulaski.

He's quite the looker, a handsome man I'd say. And he's got a lovely wife, what are the odds that a fine young man like him would end up in a ratty ole' place like this one.

But you'd be surprised 'bout how many normal folks wound up 'round here.

Some of the patients you may even wonder what's wrong with them, I reckon the standard of who's crazy is pretty low.

🕐Earlier that morning🕐

"Say, Mrs. Woods, how many patients would you say you associate with on any given day? Gotta be tiring." Mr. Pulaski asked me in a genuinely curious manner that I couldn't just ignore.

"Well, that varies, Mr. Pulaski. Could be anywhere from ten to twenty a day. I guess you could say we're what you would call shortstaffed but we make it work." I say honestly.

"I don't want to sound sappy, ma'am, but i wildly appreciate the company. Most of the staff here think of themselves as too high and mighty for people like me. You're not like that, I can tell you're a kind woman."

I walked over to his bed which was a little too small for him, to give him a cup of water

"Why thank you Mr. Pulaski but I'm just doin' my job."

He sat up and took the cup and drank it all on the matter of a few seconds,

"No. I think it's quite a bit more than that." He gave me the cup back.

I said nothing.

The silence grew louder until the man chirped up,

"So what does your husband do for a living? He okay with you working under such circumstances?"

Although I don't like speaking of my late husband, I'd grown used to questions like this. After all, it had been almost ten years since he'd passed. I also suppose people thought it was exceptionally odd that I was seemingly unwed with a 16 year old son.

"I'm a widowed woman, sir. Unfortunately I lost my husband in the last war."

"Oh. Well, I apologize if I upset you ma'am."

"Don't fret, he went out doing what he loved and felt honor in doing so."

"Enough about me," I continued,

"What about your wife, how is she? I reckon she's been missin' you." I say, matter-of-factly.

"Don't worry about that. She's not missing anything except her 'freedom' as she calls it, bunch of foolishness."

He goes on, a more distant tone to his voice.

"She keeps her distance from me now, like she's ashamed of me." He says sounding more hurt now as his voice lowers.

"Or worse, scared of me." His voice just above a whisper,

"She refused to have children with me. Almost like she thinks I'll hurt them." He started to get choked up.

"Oh Mr. Pulaski you know that's probably not true, she just needs some time I reckon, I'm sure you'll figure it out." I intervene him so he doesn't get too upset.

"Mrs. Wood?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have children? Surely you have them. You're too motherly not to"

"I have a son."

"Well go on, what's the boy like?"

I smile at his interest and more amusingly, his eagerness to know about my baby.

"Well, one stubborn kid I tell ya, he loves planes and wants to be a pilot, just like........"

I trail off thinkin' of the day my husband left and never came back.

The way he grabbed my face and told me everything was alright, and that he'd be back. The look on his face convinced me.

Nothin' was alright after that, and he didn't come back.

Trevor was just a boy back then, now he's growin into a wonderful young man that I could have never taught him to be, I guess the memories of his father were enough.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Mr. Pulaski asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah...listen, I have a whole bunch of patients that need my help, so if you need anythin' else, you know what to do."

"Will do, Mrs. Woods."

"Call me Elizabeth, sir."

"It would be my pleasure, Elizabeth. And I suppose it would only be fair if you called me Christopher. None of this 'sir' nonsense."

"I suppose it would." I give him a warm smile and and he returned the favor, then I went on my way.

He was somethin' else.