The Institution

by Kristen Rose

The guard entered my room to collect me barely a second after I put away my notebook, hands shaking, I quickly reverted into a casual seated position.

  ‘Parson, its two-thirty, time to see Dr Fuller.’ He spat at me. I eyed him. I hadn’t seen him before; he must only work in this ward. He looked a lot older than me, sixty or sixty-five perhaps. His eyes were red and he had greying patches of stubble on his chin. ‘And don’t even think about causing a scene today, we have plenty of guards on standby that could jump you to in two seconds flat,’ he added.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ I laughed. ‘I hope they’re aware I’m a black belt and could jump them in one second flat.’

  ‘Is that so,’ he patronised. ‘Well, perhaps you should save your karate skills for later.’ He babied. ‘Now, stand up so I can cuff you,’ he unclipped a shiny pair of silver hand cuffs off of his security belt.

  ‘You don’t have to cuff me. I wouldn’t waste my time trying to hurt you or anyone else. I’m better than that. Which brings me to ask why I’m even in this ward? I’ve never been placed in here before and I’ve thrown plenty of tantrums.’ I crossed my arms.

  ‘I’m sure the doctor will talk to you about it. For now though, I’ve been ordered to cuff you whenever you leave this room.’

  I scrunched my face up. ‘Well, if you’ve been told to I guess I better obey.’ I use my best sarcastic voice. Standing up, I put my hands out in front of me; the guard cuffed them slowly, the metal unnaturally clinking shut tightly around my thin wrists. The guard grabbed hold of my forearm and walked me over to the door. He unlocked it with his security card and led me out of the room quietly.

  On the other side of the door was a clean, white, long corridor; solid locked doors, identical to the one I had just exited, carpeting both walls. The corridor was lit brightly with fluorescent lights that stunned me a little upon entering the space.

  The only changes in the white colour scheme were the black room numbers stuck onto the centre of each white door and the occasional surveillance camera positioned elegantly below the ceiling. I glanced back at my door as the guard pulled it shut, reading the numbers printed across it – six-zero-nine. I turned away, feeling the guard pulling again on my arm and continued to walk slowly down the corridor with him.

  ‘What the hell is this place?’ I asked the guard.

  ‘This place?’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘The white room with white furniture and no windows, opening out into a white corridor with multiple white doors and white lights. It’s like I’ve entered the twilight zone.’ I paused, admiring the brightly lit up ceiling, ‘This still is Grove Hospital, isn’t it?’ I felt my heart begin to race.

  ‘Yeah.’ He replied. ‘This is the sixth floor. We’re in The White Ward where high security patients are kept.’ His tone was dry, straight to the point, closed ended.

  I continued walking down the corridor, arms awkwardly twisting inwards from the cuffs.

  ‘The White Ward, how original, I would never have thought of that.’ I said. The guard gave me a short, menacing stare.

  We arrived at the end of the corridor and were met with another large white door. The guard pushed a red button to the left of the door and immediately a camera above our heads came to life, scanning us. After about ten seconds the door clicked open and he led me into a small foyer. The colour scheme identical but there was a small window at the far right of the room. I caught a quick glimpse outside and noticed the perfect weather. Near the window were two shiny silver doors, the elevator. The guard led me straight to it and pushed the down button on the left side of the wall.

  Whilst we were waiting for the elevator to arrive, I looked around the rest of the room.

  Directly behind us was a small seating area, two black arm chairs and a matching couch. It seemed out of place.

  In the far corner on the left side of the room was a solid steel framed door marked ‘Interview Room 6A’. I lingered on it for a few seconds before turning towards a large desk smothered in computer equipment and paper work directly in front of the interview room. Two guards were sitting behind it. One of them looked familiar. He was middle-aged, thick-set with a strong jaw line and had bright red hair. The tip of his nose veered towards the right and his teeth were a dark shade of smoker’s yellow. He was conversing quickly on the phone. He managed to take the time to glance at the guard leading me along and give him a quick nod, which my guard returned happily.

  The second guard at the desk sat to the right of the first one. He was staring at two rows of surveillance monitors affixed to the wall. His back towards me. At that point the red haired guard loudly hung up the phone and turned to speak to the guard watching the monitors.

  ‘Foreman, level one needs someone to patrol the west corridors; the usual guard’s gone home sick.’ He ordered.

  The guard named Foreman ignored him and continued to watch the monitors.

  ‘Foreman, go. NOW!’ His face began to turn a similar colour to his hair.

  ‘Huh.’ Foreman stirred. He turned around and faced the red haired guard, rubbing his eyes. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’ He had been asleep.

  ‘You ought to be fired, but since this is only your first week I’m gonna let it slide. If you fall asleep when you’re supposed to be watching the monitors again you will be fired.

  ‘The first floor needs you to fill in for someone else, go and report to their security office and they’ll tell you what to do.’ The red head finished, his cheeks not quite as red as before.

  Foreman got up apologetically and started towards the elevator where my guard and I were waiting. I absorbed his hair; a dark brown, his eyes; a crystal blue, his jaw; handsomely angular. He was sporting an unusually cheery but incredibly perfect smile for someone who had just been yelled at by his superior. He noticed me staring at him and smiled wider. I looked him up and down critically and then turned my head back towards the elevator doors.

  A loud ding sounded and the elevator swept open into a human-less compartment. My guard led me inside; we were followed closely by Foreman. The doors closed shortly after my guard pressed the number two button. Foreman followed suit and pressed the number one button. The elevator began its descent.

  ‘Nice day isn’t it?’ Foreman turned to my guard.

  ‘I guess.’ My guard muttered shortly.

  ‘I’m James Foreman. I’m new, only started yesterday. I don’t think we’ve met yet.’ He put out his hand and gave a promising smile.

  ‘Pat Haydon.’ My guard ignored Foreman’s eye contact.

  ‘Nice to meet you Pat.’ He said, cheerily, lowering his hand.

  ‘Haydon, to you.’ He replied instantly. ‘I’m a senior officer and I’ll be treated with respect by pompous little juniors.’ Haydon finished by giving Foreman an evil stare; he jerked back slightly.

  Foreman turned towards me and began to give me the same greeting he had just given Haydon.

  ‘You don’t speak to patients unless necessary, got that.’ Haydon snapped before Foreman could even finish his sentence. Foreman inched away.

  The elevator stopped with a sudden jolt on level two. When the doors opened, Haydon dragged me out by my cuffs into the reception area immediately in front of us. He turned his head around and gave one last death stare at Foreman. Foreman seemed too busy admiring the plastic fern taking up the far right corner of the elevator to notice.

  ‘Over there.’ Haydon directed to me.

  He led me past the cushy beige couches in the reception area before us towards the strong smell of varnish. I looked up at the wooden door the stench was coming from and read the name printed across it, ‘Dr Deborah Fuller.’

  Haydon pointed to a black plastic chair next to the door and ordered me to sit there and wait quietly for the doctor to call me in. He gave me one last dirty look before turning and hobbling back towards the elevator.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ He shouted all of a sudden to Sharon, the receptionist. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was gi
ving Haydon a disgusted look.

  ‘Nothing. I was just ... thinking ... about something else. That’s all.’ Her voice higher than usual, she flicked her auburn hair out of her face.

  Haydon quickly pushed the button to call the elevator and proceeded to wait for its arrival, all the time pretending he occupied an otherwise empty room.

  Once the elevator arrived and Haydon disappeared from sight I struck up a conversation with Sharon.

  ‘You were looking at him and thinking what an arse he is, weren’t you? Don’t worry,’ I winked, ‘I think the same thing as well. Amazing really ... I never thought I would be agreeing with a reception’s view about someone. A Doctor’s view, or maybe even a millionaire’s view but never a receptionist’s.’ I pondered. ‘Actually, a doctor who is a self-made millionaire would be even better. Well a millionaire doctor that isn’t me. I can’t ask myself to agree with my own opinion can I? That would just be crazy.’ I laughed animatedly, finishing with a sigh.

  ‘Well, I’m sure that’s probably the only thing we’ll see eye to eye on though. I don’t think I have anything to worry about.’ I added. ‘I mean, I’m definitely not going to become a third class citizen in a dead end reception job any time soon … like you.’ I crossed my legs.

  ‘Wow,’ she stared at me, ‘being placed into a ward that is completely isolated has worked wonders on you hasn’t it. Dr Fuller really knows what she is doing.’ She scoffed, turned quickly towards her computer and started typing.

  I heard soft thudding footsteps coming from the room behind me then the slight clinking of metal as the handle of the wooden door was pulled down; the doctor poked her fat head out.

  ‘Jenny.’ She said, although, with her accent my name sounded like a hybrid of the words gin and knee.

  ‘Come in.’

  #3 Heavy Debbie