Autophobia, Chapter two

In the morning I was in a rush because my alarm clock went off late even though I adjusted it last night. I turned off the TV, pausing to wonder why it was on in the first place, then got dressed. Before I knew it I was late and practically stumbling to get my things. I almost left the folder on the table, but managed to grab it and pull on my jacket at the same time. 

Then I was out the door. 

The asylum was on the outskirts of the city, away from the bustle. It took me around an hour and so to get from my apartment to the asylum, without the traffic. Unfortunately there was traffic, bad traffic. 

Groaning in frustration, I facepalmed  myself for not waking up early enough. Ken definitely was not gonna be happy about this, but I guess I'll just have to deal with him then.  

"I guess I'll just listen to some music then...." I said, the words tumbling out my mouth with uncertainty. I didn't really like public radios, they played songs too many times and most of the songs they played were 'dancing' songs. I was into the more peaceful songs.

Clicking on the radio, when the first lyrics to the song turned out to be Blurred lines I just clicked the radio back off and sat in the car listening to the honks and car engines around me. My gaze traveled down to the folder in my hands, which strangely felt heavier than the last time I held it. 

Hesitant, I creaked the folder as if something would leap out and attack me. I found that a few of the pages were shuffled around, and that there was actually a few pages added to the stack. 

"How is that possible? Did I do some research last night?

.....yeah, that must be it. I must've did some research and just printed off a few papers...." I said to myself,  trying to ease my pounding heart. 

The new pages added were information about another doctor and the other papers were blank. Hm, strange. 

"Hey! Move it!" Screaming made me jump and I looked up to notice that the traffic was beginning to loosen up. I totally ignored the screaming guy behind me as I tucked away the papers back in the folder then began easing my way forward once more.

After about 30 extra minutes in traffic, I was now 2 hours late. I parked my car in the parking lot of asylum, noticing that there weren't that many cars here today. Grabbing the folder, my jacket and my clipboard from the car, I walked up to the asylum and swung the door open. 

Kenneth was the first one I saw, raising his head up I was surprised he didn't give me a glare. He barely acknowledged my presence, he was busy tending to some of the visitors that had came. Walking by, I noticed one of them to be Marzia. She was here often, usually here for the normal visits with her boyfriend, Felix. 

Through the hallways I walked, glancing at some of the doors that belonged to patients of the asylum. Some of the patients were given a chance to decorate the outside of their door they accompanied, giving it their own special mark. At the end of the hall, I took a left to go down another hallway. 

At the end of that hall, was a case of stairs. At the top of the stairs, was another hallway. Unlike the hallway downstairs, this one was full of other doctors and offices. 

I slid into the room at the end of the hall, closed the door and flicked on the light. Familiar feelings flooded me and I immediately felt at home.

 My office was sorta like my second home, I spent most of my day here either working, eating, or researching other patients. I had even fell asleep here a few times. Yup, home sweet home. 

I plopped down in my seat, and continued my work on the folder in my hands. Actually having the time to read the text on the paper, I learned that the doctor before me was an idiot. 

In one of the paragraphs of information, the doctor wrote: Today I had tried my usual routine with the boy. I tried to get him to talk about what he's thinking about and he responded with a death glare. He pretty much locked up after that, and I began to get irritated. Trying to get him to loosen up, I had accidentally said something I shouldn't have about his life before the asylum. He reacted terribly and I fled the scene. 

I sighed, and skimmed the paper for any useful information. None. It was just a bunch of written entries on each day they had went in to speak to Mark. 

Done with the sheet of entries, I pulled out one of the blank pieces of papers and looked it over to see if my eyes had missed any important observation.

Leaning back in my seat, I frowned at the papers. This was just useless. 

"Uh, who is it?" I said, scooping the papers back into the folder. 

"It's Minx....." 

Minx was the one who observed ALL of the patients and their behaviors. She was sorta like a moderator of all the doctors, who told if they were walking on a thin line with their patient or if she noticed any weird actions about the patient at all.

"Eh, come in." I said reluctantly, tucking the folder into one of the drawers of my cabinet. The brown headed girl entered, her one strand of purple hair being moved from her line of sight. Brown eyes searched my office, then she cleared her voice and closed the door. "Ms. Suthers?" 

"Just call me Heather." I said, setting my arms on the table as I watched her. 

"I'm here about your patient, Mark."

"Yeah?"

She walked over to the desk, eyes still not focused on me, but more on the walls of where papers of other patients were stapled on. 

"Though you two haven't actually been acquainted with each other for long, I would like to warn you that this patient is highly unstable. Worse than most of the other patients in this asylum." 

"I am aware of that." 

"Well, I would like to suggest that you try to build a trust with him. Mark hasn't really gotten out of his room lately. If you are able to actually build a trust with him then he would be able to participate with some of the activities around here, but until he has some sort of stability he will be forced to stay in his room." 

I frowned. Trust? I didn't know the first thing about trust, seeing that I was usually a secluded person. Nonetheless, I nodded in understanding. 

Minx nodded back and I assumed she was gonna leave, but instead she walked over to the clump of papers on the wall and gazed up at it. Brown eyes watching, she reached up and pulled down one of the papers. 

"What's this?" She asked, turning the paper so it was facing me. I could easily see that it was a bunch of scribbles. I gave her a small shrug, which she responded with a scoff. 

"Scribbles are a way of expressing feelings, Ms. Suthers." Minx announced, setting the scribbles on my desk. "No matter if purposefully or not, scribbles represent some sort of emotion." 

"What emotion do you see in this?" I asked, far from believing in what she had to say. 

"I see.......sadness. You see, the strokes of the pen are long and careless." She pointed at the pen marks. I scowled slightly, but nodded anyway. 

Minx lingered for a moment, but eventually moved away from the desk and out the office door. When she closed the door, I glanced back over at the scribbles. Indeed, I could see very clearly that the pen strokes were careless. 

I took the paper in my hand and put it into one of my drawers before lifting myself out of my seat and grabbing my clipboard.

"I guess I should tend to my patient now, before I decide to get lost in technology." I muttered to myself as I opened the office door and headed back down the hall full of offices. 

I went down the flight of steps into the dimly lit hallway of the asylum. I slowly made my way down the hall, trying to stall as I thought up possible questions I could ask Mark. 

Coming up on the door, I paused before I decided to unlock the door. "Eh, Mark?" I asked, knocking on the door softly. Unlike last time, his response was almost immediately. "What do you want!?" 

"I'm here to talk to you, may I come in?"

"No!" I heard his muffle snarl. 

I paused, should I risk entering the room or not? I'd be invading his personal space of I did. "Alright. I'll just stay out here then." I said "Is that alright with you?" 

Silence rang before I heard shuffling from inside the room. He didn't respond maliciously so I guess it was acceptable. "How are you today?" I asked, clicking my pen to record the data. 

From our last encounter I could assume that he was gonna have trouble coming up with words to describe his day so far. This was different, there was a slight pause, but he replied with "Dull." 

That's pretty much how the talk went, I asked him the normal questions and he answered with, usually, nonchalant answers. That went on for about 20 minutes and I ignored the look of some doctors as they made my way past me with curious faces. After that I just rambled to him for 10 minutes, which he seemed to find interesting. 

"Mark, if you don't mind me asking, but did you use to have any occupations before you came here?" I asked, leaning into the question cautiously in hope not to provoke him.

Silence wrapped around me. This time he didn't respond right away. I thought he wasn't gonna respond at all, because I couldn't tell if he was searching the deep corners of his mind for past memories or if he simply didn't want to respond. 

"You don't ha-" 

"Bartender." He interrupted me. "I was a Bartender....and then I was a....gamer." 

I don't know if it was just me, but I swear I hinted chuckling in his tone. Or maybe it was from somewhere else. 

"Gaming, eh? Not an actual job occupation, but its an enjoyable hobby and you can make money off of it." I noted. "So, did you enjoy gaming?" 

"Y-yes." He said, that chuckling tone still there. 

I scowled slightly, eyes drifting to the door as if I had x-ray vision and could see him through the door. I could imagine some sort of smirk on his face. "Well, maybe one day you'll have an opportunity to play another game." 

"I-I'd like t-that." He chuckled. I didn't really take much notice to it, him being insane and all, it was probably usual for this behavior. I stood up, and nodded to myself "Alright, Mark, that's it for today."

I heard him scoff and some sort of creaking noise, which I assumed was just the weight on the bed shifting, 

"okay." He said in monotone. 

With that I made my way from the patient's door, nodding. If this continued on the right track then trust would sure form in no time, which would be another step for his clarity.