Existence

Untitled Part 1

 “Bellamy, Felix.” 

“Present.” I responded quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself. Without surprise, there was a slight stir in the room. This was predictable. I’d gotten some odd glances over the years. Some people felt that my French-sounding last name didn’t match up with my mother’s Portuguese complexion; and they wouldn’t be wrong. I looked into the large mirror covering the morbid beige wall to my right, taking in the face I had seen every day of my life. My bronzed skin tone matched the chocolate brown of my eyes. My eyelashes had always been- to my embarrassment- exceedingly long and thick. My sturdy jawline offset the softness of my lips. My thick black hair was kept fairly short, yet much longer than most of the other security guards. But my familiar face had seemed absolutely foreign as of late. 

“Carlson, Jeremy.” 

“Here.” my colleague answered, as all after him did when their names were called. Once ‘roll call’ was taken care of, our employee meeting began. 

“Okay, this is just a weekly conference to check in, make sure that everyone is doing their job, clear up any issues, and make you aware of any new patients.” the institution’s director boomed. Around the conference table sat all the other low level security guards and assistants- such as myself- all looking just as miserable and dreary as I felt. Exchanging glances of hopelessness and sheer exhaustion, we continued to listen to the words of our employer. “You all are well aware of the important job we have here at this facility; to investigate and discover the true secrets of the human mind. Your job is to assist the professionals by maintaining the safety in the residential sector, and occasionally administer necessary help to the patients themselves. Just remember, the individuals residing here cannot be cured or helped in any way; thus they are here to support the development of the scientific field of psychology- by means of experimentation.”

A communal round of internal scoffing went through the group. The institution’s director, Walter Doyle, at least among the security officers, was a joke. We were always in the thick of things, constantly aware of the inner workings of the institution. Although, his heroic, arrogant speeches always conveyed their true meaning; don’t try to stop the process, this is non-negotiable. Having signed a several-year contract at the beginning of each of our careers here, it was a complicated situation, trying to leave. 

So we made due. 

Tapping his trusty ballpoint pen on the side of his pristine white clipboard, Mr. Doyle paced- his rather portly stomach protruding- and continued, “As for new clients, we have one new young lady. Those of you assigned to her will be alerted later on in the meeting. I know that most of you are assigned the more menial tasks of food distribution and client transportation, but as we have more patients coming in each week, more of you will need to be interacting more with our clientele.” 

Several sighs could be heard around the room, but Mr. Doyle ventured on, “Mr. Bellamy, you are being reassigned to man Miss Burke’s residency; a long-term patient of ours. She’s been particularly difficult as of late, and your contributions in the security office watching tapes are obviously of no consequence or importance.” This statement was true enough, but it still hurt; I was dedicated in my impractical tasks. 

The director finished, “She is on the third floor, in room 326. Please report there now, so that you can become accustomed to your new client’s… antics.”

I was instantly frightened. I had seen some strange things at this facility, but he made Amelia Burke seem like a special case. I had never been past the second floor, and I didn’t know if that made a difference in the severity of the patients. 

While I sat in my anxious reverie, Mr. Doyle snapped, “Well? Why are you still here? You’re dismissed Bellamy.” 

“Yes, sorry sir.”

I got up quickly, ducked my head, and left the conference room.