A Maddening Descent

Chapter 1 - Discovery

I woke, as with any other day, at precisely 6:30 in the morning, a full half hour before any of the other patients. At 7:00 the orderlies come round to knock on doors and get us all up but I prefer to rise on my own and take the half hour to slip fully into consciousness. I have never been a quick riser, this way I'm far easier to deal with at breakfast. When 6:58 rolled around I felt just about ready to leave my bed; I sat up to slip on my dull grey slippers and waited for John the orderly to bang on my door, signalling breakfast time. It usually takes them a minute and a half to reach my door meaning I have exactly three and a half minutes before the chaotic monotony of the day begins, tearing the early morning peacefulness out of my grasp. The first indication that something was different came when my clock struck 7:02. John was late. Something that in all my years here had never occurred. 

In all honesty I tried my best not to panic, though calm was more difficult to hold on to at 7:04, even more so at 7:08. Finally, at 7:10 I could stand it no longer and poked my head out of the door, discovering a great many other patients doing the exact same. On my left there was a large collection of orderlies blocking room 74 from our view, John at the forefront of the group, directing others to remain in their rooms. Room number 74 contained Wesley Hendricks a man diagnosed with acute paranoia and an extreme antisocial personality disorder at the age of 25; as of right now he has been a patient at Jefferson County Sanatorium for some thirty odd years. He was admitted after assaulting a man on the street that he claimed to be responsible for the Palm Sunday Massacre of 1984. Although his condition has improved over time, there are always relapses; his erratic mood swings can set him back as can his unsavoury opinions on just about anything that lead to confrontation with other inmates. It is possible that he has simply had another break and that is causing the delay in our routine, however, it usually doesn't require that many orderlies to take him to the secure wing of the facility to cool down. Though I had suspected something else was going on, the sight of Dr Sparrow, usually a calm and quiet presence, near sprinting down the corridor, a look of pure terror on his face, confirmed in my mind the fact that there was something far more serious happening to Wesley.

Once Dr Sparrow had arrived, the situation diffused somewhat and the day proceeded. The doctor entered the room and left a single orderly, one of the older ones who had plenty of experience, to guard the door while John had the rest direct us towards the canteen to continue with the day as if nothing had happened. Some of the younger orderlies looked pale, as if they had seen something they would rather forget, considering the nature of their job it must have really been something. I chose not to concern myself with it for now, curiosity would get me nowhere fast, anyone asking about Wes was sure to be told to sit back down and act like nothing happened. I joined the queue for food in my usual spot behind Jesus (I don't actually know his real name, he'll only be referred to as Jesus or Christ) who appeared pensive as usual, and in front of Josephine. She had herself committed around the same time as I was, and we've been partners in mischief ever since. Everyone remains quiet as we are handed a bowl of what I'm sure is supposed to be oatmeal, alongside a glass of water. The line shuffles on and I reach the window where I receive my medication from the nurses who have to watch and make sure we swallow all our pills. This is one morning ritual carried out by all patients regardless of their conditions.

It isn't until we've all sat down that we begin to talk. 'So what do you think is up with Hendricks? Blew a gasket trying to comprehend gay marriage?' Jo whispers across from me conspiratorially. Her room is much further up the hall from number 74, but she's always been a nosy one so it isn't surprising that she figured out the room. 'I'm sure we'll find out at group.' I reply without looking up from my oats. 'You're no fun, you're supposed to guess with me, like he threw a tantrum at the thought of Barack Obama.' I snort at the suggestion, mostly because it sounds like a reasonable explanation when it comes to Wes, xenophobe doesn't even begin to cover his particular set of beliefs about the world. 

Some semblance of normality breaks through the turbulence of the morning as an amalgamation of noises catches my ear: the ramblings of parables from Jesus; the steady whimper of one of the newer patients; the repeated phrase 'I'm not crazy' that always seems to drift towards you from all four corners of the room; lastly the incessant tapping of Edith. At age 76 she is the oldest patient at Jefferson and has been here for the majority of her life, she hasn't stopped tapping her nails against the walls, chairs, tables, you name it for well over fifty years; Josephine likes to joke that her fingers must have enormous muscles. The tapping is almost like the heartbeat of Jefferson, unyielding and reliable and I find myself listening to it when everything else gets to be too much.

'I wanna see what's going on with Hendricks.' Jo is whispering again. 'There's an orderly outside his door and Dr Sparrow is in there with him.' I tried being the voice of reason but Josephine's impulsiveness must had contributed towards her long term stay at Jefferson. 'I've got a plan but I can't do it without you,' She attests though her "plans" are usually half cocked and never work, 'go tell the orderly that you need to go to the bathroom, I'll meet you there once I've put my plan into action.' She ordered and I knew better than to try to dissuade her from the latest hair-brained scheme, and so I slunk off to the communal ladies room and sat in a stall counting minutes until Jo came to collect me. The door creaked open after four minutes. 'Blake, I told the guard that the office phone was ringing and one of the patients picked it up, we don't have much time.' I palmed my forehead, the office isn't far from here, and we'll have about a minute. 'That isn't enough time.' She grabbed my arm and pulled me out to room 74. 'It is when you told a certain schizophrenic that the reptilians are ringing him, and they want to talk.' We sidled up to the door and Jo placed herself in a squat position underneath the high window. I raised a confused eyebrow. 'You weigh less now go look.' She hissed and I climbed up with as much elegance as the grey slippers would allow, peeking into the window.

I was frozen in place the minute I could see into the room, 'What is it?' I couldn't respond. Losing my footing I tumbled to the floor. 'What?' Jo looked frustrated. 

'He's dead!' Was all I could muster before the footsteps of the guard could be heard and Jo had to drag me back into the bathroom and out of sight.