Secrets Of Sanctuary Hospital A Hidden Enclave For Angels, Demons, And Vampires

by L.A.A. Law

Chapter Two – Recollections

  Trapped within my solitude, glimpses of my life flash through my mind, showing me how I arrived here. I am the youngest in my family, even though this was only accomplished by a minute. My father, a prestigious, transplant surgeon, travels throughout the world to operate on the most risky patients, while my mother achieves acclaim as a pediatric trauma surgeon. My twin sister and brother followed my parents’ established path and are on their way to becoming reputable trauma physicians, while I continue to be a never ending disappointment.

  Despite graduating medical school with honors, my career began careening when I was just an intern and called upon to assist the victims of a MBTA crash. The scene envelops me. I can feel the panic still. Multiple bodies are lying in a makeshift triage tent amidst chaos. Someone thrusts medical supplies in my hands and orders me to assist Dr. Olstein in the train. Climbing over wreckage, I find him hovering over a small girl whose face is wrought with pain. I can’t understand why she is not crying out. To my horror, I see a pole protruding from her neck covered in blood. Sensing her desperation to connect with someone in her final moments, my eyes lock upon hers. I can hear Dr. Olstein reassuring her that she’ll be fine, but the dead look in his eyes tells me otherwise. Her eyes shift to his. As her deadened stare returns to me, her desolate face tells me that this fact registers with her as well. I can no longer make sense of the world I have been forced to enter. Despite my inability to move, Dr. Olstein removes the pipe. The girl shrieks, her eyes roll back into her head and my world becomes black. Waking, I can see the pandemonium settling into organized chaos, but I cannot force myself to engage with assisting victims. Dr. Olstein orders me home and to report to his office in the morning. Shivers roll down my spine as I freeze before the crumpled train and the girl’s pale, still face overwhelms my mind. In that instant, I know that my medical career is coming to an abrupt end.

  I am no longer cold. The pain is a dull ache. Thrust back into my past, I can see Dr. Olstein’s door down the narrow corridor. My legs feel like lead weights wading through a rushing flood as I force myself forward knowing that I will once again thrust disappointment upon my family. Horror washes over me as I open the door and spy my family. Each face reflects the same disheartened look. My heart sinks as my father shakes his head infinitesimally. He turns without a word. Failing them yet again, I sit in the corner chair at the back of the room. They talk about me as if I am not here. Despite my having no say, Dr. Olstein executes transfer papers sending me to Minnesota to work with my siblings. Returning home, my belongings are packed into a moving truck and there is an impersonal note on the counter. My apartment will be sublet and I am to report to my siblings in three days. Picking up the letter, I mechanically walk out the door, climb into the truck and begin the long journey which will once again consume my existence and cast me into the shadows of my shining siblings.

  With each passing mile, visions of my life sweep through my mind. Although the first few miles are filled with the joy of being a toddler when my parents would cuddle with me and my siblings loved playing with me, even these memories are marred by the anticipation of my upcoming disappointment.

  A gentle, cool caress along my check brings me to the present. “Don’t leave me, not now” an anguished voice whispers softly. Struggling to wake and see who could possibly care if I recover; the pain pierces my heart. I am thrust into my thoughts.

  My father always tried to prepare us to become physicians. My siblings loved to go with him to the lab. Although the rides were wonderful, filled with stories about how great he felt saving a mother or a child who could look forward to a future that they wouldn’t otherwise have, my time in the lab was not. My dissecting technique never met the expertise displayed by my siblings, as my father deftly reminded me.

  My hopes that these comparisons would end at the lab are quickly dashed. After three grueling days of my mother stabilizing young victims of a bus accident, my father thought camping at Lake Anna would allow our family to reconnect. He sets a quick pace which my mother and siblings meet. My observations leave me playing catch up. Tripping over the undergrowth, my mother stops to bandage my cuts, causing her to sigh.

  The last remnants of the sun’s beams reflect off the calm, clear lake as we fish. Catching a fish, my father tosses it expertly into our cooler. Feeling a tug, desperate to impress my father, I motion to him to get the net. Scooping it up, he compliments me. “We’ll eat well tonight.” My elation is cut short when Katrina catches a fish and tosses it into our cooler. My father picks her up and swings her around. “You are a natural born fisherman!”

  Returning to camp, my father praises Stephan on the expert campfire, while my mother commends Katrina on how well she fillets the fish and suggests that I learn her technique.

  Knowing my father’s quiet complement is more than I should have hoped for, I volunteer to wash the dishes. Sitting in the darkness, knowing no one will realize my absence from camp, I allow the peaceful surroundings to lull me to sleep. A horrible screeching wakes me! Stumbling around, I almost fall upon a bald eagle. It’s been attacked, probably by the growling fox approaching us. In a panic to save the eagle, I jump in front of it and begin hurling dishes. Something rustles the tall grass and to my relief the fox disappears. Turning, I see the eagle’s torso covered with blood, its wings extensively damaged. Even collapsed, the majestic bird is beyond compare. Kneeling down to touch him, someone grabs my hand whirling me around. “What are you doing?” Stephen screams as Katrina runs towards us. The eagle’s anguished cry causes me to whirl back toward him, but Stephan orders me to get our father and medical supplies. My father sings Stephen and Katrina’s praises for making a splint from twigs.

  We take the bird back to camp. Since it no longer requires medical attention, my siblings lose interest and go swimming as I empty one of our containers into my pack and place my towel on the bottom along with leaves and twigs to make a nest. Gently placing the eagle inside, I stroke his feathers as he rests.

  Two days later, Ranger Rosewood comes by. I’m elated as he compliments me on the wonderful habitat and takes my email address.

  A week later, I receive an email showing the eagle flying across the moonlit lake, returning to his natural habitat.

  I free fall into my last day of high school. Despite graduating second in my class, my mother feels the need give me a back handed compliment. “Mia, I commend you on your hard work, but I hope you really listen to your sister’s valedictorian speech. You could also achieve if you, as Katrina stated, ‘reach beyond mere expectations and expend effort to bring something to this world which is beneficial and far reaching.’” Knowing that nothing I ever do will meet her or my father’s approval, I thank her for the compliment so I can go to my room.

  The next morning, we report to the hospital. My siblings are assigned to patient care, while I’m ordered to report to Dr. St. Cloud in the psychiatric ward as a transcriber. Excited, I fly toward the elevator. As the doors open, I catch sight of the most beautiful woman, her blue eyes shine like a cloudless summer day.

  She interrupts my gawking by shoving several manila folders toward me. “These need to be transcribed and emailed to Dr. Taylor in New York before he boards a plane in an hour.”

  Glancing at her name tag, it reads Dr. Eva St. Cloud, psychiatrist.

  Lifting my chin with her cold index finger, her eyes bore into mine. “Are you paying attention? This needs to be done immediately. I hope that you don’t expect preferential treatment because of your parents. I know our division is not one of your father’s favorites, but our work is essential, so I expect you to work proficiently.”

  Desperate to stay away from my siblings, I try to gage my voice to sound professional. “Dr. St. Cloud, I assure you that Dr. Taylor will have the records without delay.”

  As she scurries toward the secure area, I go to the nurses’ station to secure a terminal and immediately become engrossed in the transcription. William was b
rought back into the hospital by his aunt who heard him talking to someone, but no one was there. “I know that you hate me for escaping the hell that you are trapped in, but you loved me once so why would you condemn me to share in your fate?” As she approached, she smelled gas and saw William raise a lit lighter. Wrestling it away, she called the EMT’s. Completing the transcription, I turn to the notes indicating that William’s delusions regarding his brother’s apparitions were getting worse and that he continues to draw pictures of his brother being surrounded by demonic looking creatures.

  As I hit send, Dr. St. Cloud appears, drops off more work and scurries out. Wanting her to know I can do the job, I call to her. “Dr. Taylor just emailed that he received the file.”

  I complete my work with forty-five minutes to spare and pick up William’s file wondering what initiated his delusions. My heart sinks as I realize that it began when William was four. He is the sole survivor of a home invasion which left his mother, father and brother with their throats slit. Police discovered William in a hall closet, mumbling inaudibly and gripping the blood stained teddy bear of his younger brother, James. Despite their slashed throats, there was no blood at the scene, each body was drained. My stomach lurches thinking about what he witnessed. Reading on, there were no signs of struggle or forced entry. Dr. Taylor was the attending then. At first, William was unresponsive. When Dr. Taylor finally got him to speak, he described the killers as scary, white faced monsters with black eyes and unparalleled strength. As William grew, he drew disturbing pictures of his family surrounded by dark figures with pale white faces, long teeth with blood dripping down the sides of their mouth and surrounded by crimson light. The file contains numerous dated pictures which progressively become better defined. My spine tingles as I look at the last picture, a portrait style, full-color drawing of his family lying lifeless in a hallway surrounded by four black eyed, white faced dark haired individuals with their teeth dripping blood, surrounded by dark shadowy figures whose eyes are crimson red. My eyes are drawn to a doorway where a blonde, blue eyed, golden haired woman dressed in sky blue stands. She is encircled in a soft golden hue. Her perfect porcelain face is wrought with dismay as her eyes peer upon the horrific scene.

  The remaining pages note how William is descending into a world filled with darkness and solitude, believing that his family members are returning as pale faced monsters to ensure he shares in their fate.

  Engrossed, I am unaware Stephan stepped in. Pulling the file from me, he tosses it as if it is as inconsequential to the hospital as I’m sure he sees me. His sarcastic attitude matches his movements. “How was your first day of strenuous medical training? Did you pull a muscle typing? Dad is upset about your placement and mom is furious that you never showed for lunch.”

  I desperately want to tell him off, but know that if I had gone with them to patient care, I probably would be the first volunteer to be asked not to return. Stephan has a superior attitude because he knows he is better and so do I. Knowing he is the least of my problems, I fly past him hoping to get all the sarcasm over at once. We’re almost to the garage, when the elevator doors opens and Dr. St. Cloud enters. She’s on the telephone. “Thank you, I will tell her.”

  Stephan can’t resist taking this last opportunity to belittle me, probably knowing that once I enter the car, my parents will take center stage with that task. Biting my lip, I brace for his next shot. “Are you going to tell mom that you missed lunch because filing gave you a paper cut? You should have come to emergency, Katrina or I could have professionally bandaged you.” He smirks.

  Before I can respond, Dr. St. Cloud turns to me. “Dr. Taylor thanked you for your efficiency. The information you transcribed helped save a life today. Good job!” Astonished, I barely get out a “Thank you” before Stephan drags me toward the car. I see her smirk and hope that this means she will let me stay.

  Dr. St. Cloud’s words ring in my ears as I slip quickly into the car to face my father whose arms are folded, face fierce, while my mother appears disgruntled. Desperate not to have my elation from her compliment destroyed by my parents’ discontent, I apologize quickly. “I’m sorry I missed lunch, but they needed to have notes transcribed and forwarded to a physician on an emergency case.” My mother’s face softens slightly, but my heart sinks as I turn toward my shouting father. “Why didn’t you tell the administrator that I arranged for you to be assigned to patient care?”

  I want to shout back, but know that would only bury my hopes further, so I try to be diplomatic. “Dad, I went where I was instructed. You always say to assist those who need help.”

  “I will have you transferred in the morning!” He retorts angrily.

  Desperate to hold on to this position, I am stunned to realize it is not because it takes me away from my siblings, but because reading about the treatment of the human psyche is actually something I connect with and find interesting. Knowing I can never tell my father this because he believes psychiatry is for quacks, I try diplomacy. “Dad, please they need my help while they search for a permanent replacement. I promise that I will come to the lab, learn about patient care, and study longer hours for my pre-med courses if you let me stay. I heard that the unit is already scrambling to replace Dr. St. Cloud who is leaving soon.”

  His exasperated response reflects his irritation. “I won’t interfere for a month if you truly apply yourself and show progress then you’re off to patient care! You know you need the practice.”

  My memories are interrupted by two cold finger tips pressing lightly below my jaw. “Her pulse is getting stronger.” His voice sounds relieved. “We can move her tomorrow. Is everything ready?”

  “It will be, but you need to be careful!” A faintly familiar female voice cautions.

  “I will leave her on the south side.”

  Cold fingers massage my temple. I want to shake them off, to wake up and get some answers, but instead fall deeper into my unconsciousness as a soft, comforting voice flows through my thoughts. “You are safe and healing.” Despite their cold touches, their warm, reassuring voices remind me of Dr. St. Cloud. An image of her begins to flow through the darkness. Her features absolutely angelic as her blue eyes sparkle and a soft, golden glow surrounds her. Even in my semi-conscious state, I can feel myself gasp. This is the first time I can feel anything in my body move. Concentrating on opening my eyes, I’m excited as they flutter, but then am plunged back into the abyss.

  Thoughts of Eva begin swirling around me as if I am flipping through a computer photo album, the friendship we forged and her continued interest in my wellbeing. It’s this relationship which fueled my desire to escape to her safe haven when faced with my inability to continue on the medical path which I had been compelled to undertake.

  My thoughts rest on the week before I leave for college and she is leaving to return to Maine with William.

  As she enters the lunchroom, I can tell she wants my attention and close my book. “Mia, I’d like to offer you some advice.” She sits across from me.

  “Absolutely” I am eager to hear any advice someone so together would share.

  “You are a strong, bright individual who has a lot to offer. The work you did for me is impeccable and I can tell you enjoy it.”

  I smile widely knowing she is not easily pleased.

  “I know your father did not appreciate my stopping your transfer, but I saw the pressure he places on you, the arguments with him and your siblings and your declining self-image, I wanted to give you some breathing room. You cannot allow your family to dictate who you should be. You have a bright future ahead of you, if you follow your own path and believe in what you are doing.”

  I’m so excited that she thinks I did something right. “This summer has been great! I really enjoyed working for you and reading about the demons that torture these patients’ souls and compel them to actions which they would not otherwise consider.” If I was being truthful, I would have told her that reading their stor
ies helped me better understand some of my own actions. “I hope you know I don’t agree with my father at all. I think what you do is amazing! You give your patients a safe haven within their own consciousness. That is a monumental task which reaches beyond mere medical training. Do you think that William will be alright when he goes back to Maine with you?”

  She smiles. “William felt much better and made considerable progress there. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She reaches into her pocket and withdraws something. “Mia, when you go off to college, I would like you to do something for me.”

  “Sure!” I wonder what I could possibly do for someone so accomplished.

  Her eyes soften and her tone becomes very friendly. “Mia, I need you to remember that even well-meaning parents can unwittingly pressure their children to follow a path that may not be the right fit. You need to take the time while you’re at school to discover what you want to do with the rest of your life. Don’t let others define your worth.” She hands me her business card. “I would love for you to let me know how you are doing and for you to call me with any questions.”

  “Thank you, I will.” As she leaves, I wonder if she observed something in me that made her concerned for me clinically, rather than just keeping a friendly eye on my future. Regardless, I’m glad to have someone like her in my corner because she is easy to talk to and would never pass judgment on my choices.