gypsy-horror

[gypsy-horror]

Tiddy mug #freethenipple #tittymug #bewbs

[gypsy-horror]

Haunted by silence #horror

[gypsy-horror]

Nursing Not Home

                                  Nursing(Not)Home

                            Too many double shifts…..

Today started out like any other day. The alarm buzzed next to me as I hit snooze religiously in ten minute intervals. I dragged myself out of bed and put on the black, fake silk, kimono robe I had bought for myself in Chinatown. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the patterned geishas on the garment; envying their warm, tireless faces. This was my fourth double shift this week. The nursing home where I was employed had recently undergone a pay freeze and many of the nurses and other employees had sought out new jobs. Being short staffed was typical; but lately, it was worse than ever.

I sighed loudly as I stood up and walked to the bathroom. Glimpsing myself in the mirror, I stopped and drowsily gazed at my cadaverous expression. My long, brown hair was knotted up in a bun that sat loose on top of my head. A thick layer of plaque was caked over my coffee stained yellow teeth. The copious amount of coffee I had consumed to maintain function between my three to four hour sleep habit and my long night shifts, had neglected my oral hygiene. The freckles along my nose were prominent on my overly pale skin and resembled age spots under the luminescent light of my bathroom. They greeted the bags under my eyes as they sunk down into the deep crevices formed in dark shades of grey and blue. I frowned at the image of the girl that greeted me in the mirror. I shrugged her off, and halfheartedly dragged my lifeless body into the shower.

As I got out, the steam filled the room and covered the mirror in a thick dew. Happily avoiding the girl in the mirror, I put my black scrubs on, wrapped my dark purple stethoscope around my neck, slipped on my shoes, and headed for the door. At this point I was going to be at least fifteen minutes late; but with the shortage in staff, my boss was more than lenient on those of us picking up the slack.

When I arrived, I indulged myself in the break room with a crappy cup of cheap Folgers coffee the nursing home supplied for the staff. Next to the coffee pot was a community fridge, which housed the hazelnut creamer I used to mask the bitter taste of the extra dark coffee. As I pulled the creamer from the fridge, I could feel my newly bought creamer was... not so newly bought anymore. Apparently community fridge meant more than I thought. Glaring at my name clearly printed in sharpie on the bottle, and cap; I dripped the remains of the once full bottle into the muck in my cup. The drops weren't even enough to cloud the black coloring of my typically milky drink. Grudgingly, I threw the empty bottle into the trash and reached back in the fridge for any creamer I could find. After all, they did use all of mine...I was just doing what's fair.

"Hmmm...Jessica." I read off the bottle aloud. Your vanilla creamer will have to do. As I began to pour the remnants of Jessica’s creamer into the cup, It slimed out slowly and wretched my nostrils. I tipped it back quickly so that the mucus textured sludge didn’t have a chance to plummet into what was already a shit cup of coffee. I decided to settle for the bitter blackness, scared to venture further into the fridges depths.

The building was separated into three sections, station one, station two, and station three. Each section had around twenty-three patients, give or take any recent deaths or new admissions. There were two long hallways labeled west hall and east hall. The doors down each hall lined next to one another, contained two beds each, with zero to two residents a room. With the shortage in staff the admissions had slowed and more than the usual rooms sat empty.

I grabbed the clipboard from the desk at station one and read my assignment.

"Mara: 203A-216B, station 3.”

I unenthusiastically wrote the section on my paper and sauntered through the building to the back. Station three had the hardest patients to care for; combative and non-compliant about taking medications. This was going to be a long night.

When I got to station three I was greeted by an unpleasant sight. Her name was Haley, and she was the worst nurse on staff. She never passed all the medications out, leaving them for the shift following; She never did her charting, and my neglected patients were already on their lights like a Christmas tree glowing up the hall. The repetitive sounds of beeping filled my ears, alarming and irritating me further. Haley hurriedly gave me a half ass report and I rushed to salvage my night. Going room to room, I settled my patients minds, got them some fresh water, their medications, and tucked them in for the night. About two painstaking hours later I walked to the last of my rooms; Room 216. As I approached the room, the smell of roadkill hit my nostrils. It was worse than any smell I had ever experienced and I had been doing this job for five years. It instantly rocked my typically strong stomach. I took a step back. Had one of my patients died and Haley hadn't noticed the whole shift? I wouldn't have been surprised. I grabbed a face mask from my cart and made my way back down to the vile smelling room. There was only one lady who lived in room 216, and she was a quiet, tenderhearted eighty-seven year old with Alzheimer's. She frequently had delusions and could get aggressive when agitated, but being a whopping one hundred and fifteen pounds... she couldn't do much. I half expected to find my poor patient, Florence, dead by the smell that was coming from that room; but to my surprise I was greeted by two women. Apparently, Haley didn't just forget to hand out her meds; she also failed to mention 216 had a new admit in bed B.

"Oh!" I said puzzlingly. "I'm so sorry; had I known we had a new patient I would have came down here first to introduce myself. My name is Mara and I will be your nurse until morning, is there anything I can do for you this evening?" I said, stumbling on my words, trying not to sound flustered over my newly discovered patient. She smiled a crooked smile at me and continued sipping her hot tea.

“She must be hard of hearing,” I thought to myself, so I got a little closer and repeated what I had said a lot louder and asked her name. Still, no answer. I assumed, much like her roommate, she wasn't quite all there and decided I would read her chart when I was finished.

“Funny though,” I thought realizing only after the fact; when I walked up to her, I saw her tea cup was empty. She was sipping an empty tea cup. How strange. Not only that, but she was a strange looking woman.

Her skin was pale with a hue of blue, like someone with poor blood circulation. The blankness in her pitch black eyes was paralyzingly eerie. Her hair was short, patchy, and a dark shade of grey. She had obvious signs of scalp digging from the numerous clusters of claw shaped scabs lining her hair. Her lips were dry and flaking, and her toothless smile, smug; like she knew something you didn't. Chills ran up my spine. It was nearly silent in the room besides the obvious death rattling coming from my new patient’s lungs. She gurgled and crackled with each and every breath: silence, breath, gurgle, crackle, repeat. The sound was hypnotic and unearthly. Of course I had heard a similar sound before, but it was typically only a sound that a dying patient made before their passing. This lady was upright and clearly not dying. Something about this woman rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible. As she rolled her wheelchair backwards towards her bed, I turned to check on Florence.

I was content to find she was breathing and comfortably sleeping. Her wrinkles were softened as she relaxed her face and her long white hair cascaded down her left shoulder. She was a stunning woman of her age, and in her youth she was even more so. The photo next to her bed showed a more youthful Florence Maddex, in her white wedding dress, a beaming smile on her face, and her late husband next to her staring delightedly at her beauty. She had to have been in her thirties when the photo was taken. If Florence is fine,  where was that smell coming from? I searched the room and found nothing, so I finished up, refilled my coffee, and came back to my station.

I got out 216B’s chart and sat down to read up on my new patient. Rosemary Pine, was a ninety-eight year old woman with unidentified psychological issues, and was nearly deaf. That's why she couldn't hear me.  As I read on I also discovered she had no living family, and only one emergency contact. The contact had no name, only a number. I stared frustratingly at the lack of effort taken upon the staff to get accurate and adequate information on our new patient. How am I supposed to care for someone I have such little information on? Haley truly was the worst nurse ever.

After thoroughly searching Rosemary's file for information, I conceded and decided to focus my attention on the stack of paperwork I had waiting for me on the far end of the desk: Tylenol 2:00am, fall risk, 420cc Output. Repetitive charting on each and every one of my patients. This was going to be a long night.

I had made it halfway through my charting when my stomach began to ache as the stench hit my nose again

"Oh, god!" I said aloud. "What IS that?!" I followed the scent down the hall to room 216. I had to find out where the smell was coming from.

It was dark as I entered the room, and the smell was burning my lips and nostrils. I made my way to bed B and reached blindly for the string light. I made my way with my hand through the thick darkness and patted it against the wall searching. I nudged my hand against something where the light string should have been, but it was warm and slimy. I grabbed onto it and pulled down hard. Light beamed down and I jerked back. There was fresh blood dripping down the string and down my hands, and the bed was covered as well. I froze.

I heard heavy breathing and rattling from behind me. I slowly turned my head towards the bathroom where the horrid sound came from. Wheeling in her chair was Rosemary, not a drop of blood on her. I made my way towards her, coercing her away from the blood soaked bed, but when I turned back around, her bed was now immaculate. Not a drop or stain in sight! Her sheets were pure white and her vintage, light pink comforter sat perfectly folded at the end of the bed. The light switch was also back to normal. Was I dreaming? Had I worked so much I was starting to have delusions of my own? I shook my head furiously and pushed Rosemary's wheelchair back towards her bed. She smiled as I helped her up and laid her down. I wondered if she could read lips. I looked at her directly and mouthed "Can I take a look at your skin?"

She nodded. My hands still shaking, I grabbed a pair of medium gloves from the wall. I pulled her pajama sleeves up and checked her arms, nothing. I checked her back, her stomach, still nothing. Finally I made it down to her feet and legs. As I pulled her sock off the smell became even stronger. Her feet were bandaged all the way up to her knees. I pulled her pant sleeves up and began unwrapping the bandages. As I unwrapped, I could now see where the vile stench was coming from. Her legs and feet were covered in sores and necrotic tissue. There were parts of her legs where the flesh hung blackened off the bone. Her knees were blistered and bloodied, and her toes were nearly all missing. They appeared to have rotted off her feet entirely.

As I examined her further, I saw something beneath the remaining skin was forcing its way upwards and moving! It wriggled and pressed against her loose skin tightly; something was about to bust through. I watched stunned and held my breath as a tiny head poked its way through one of the breaks in her skin. Maggots were festering and burrowing into the remainder of this woman’s legs. I began to gag and backed away towards the sink. The poor woman! She must be in terrible pain! I quickly wrapped her rotting legs back up and tucked her tightly in with her blankets. How have they not done anything about this? She should be in the hospital!

I made my way back to my desk and quickly made it through my charting so I could focus my attention on writing a long, well thought out note for Miss Rosemary's chart.

"Patient was found to have severe necrotic tissue damage from mid knee down on both Right and Left legs, with extreme Myiasis. Concern that adequate medication and treatment is not being performed for recovery; etc."

The only thing this poor woman was being prescribed was Tylenol extra strength. I felt like it had to be some mistake she ended up in our care and hoped that my extensive notes on our new patient would be read thoroughly and handled accordingly. Something was seriously wrong with this whole situation.

Now nearing the end of my shift, I tried putting Rosemary to the back of my mind as I began nodding off on the desk. As my eyes fluttered, and then fully began to shut, a wild scream woke me from my haze. I jumped out of my chair and sprinted towards the hall. Again, a horrific scream pierced my ears and I chased after it. Room 216.... I ran in and quickly, relying on the hall light for sight. It was Florence. Her blue eyes beaming towards the ceiling and her body tensed tightly with pain. I ran to her side.

"Florence! What's wrong, what's going on?!?" She screamed again, and said nothing. I checked her pulse and listened to her chest with my stethoscope. I looked her over. Nothing appeared to be wrong with her physically, but she was frightened, no... she was more than frightened, this was sheer horror on her face. I held her hand and glanced over at Rosemary. She was peaceful and sound asleep. Even sound asleep, a sense of pride painted guiltily over her smug face. The rattling in her chest with every breath filled the empty silence and muffled the panicked exhales coming from Florence. As I looked at her, tears welled in her eyes. She stayed silent. I decided since nothing was physically wrong with her, that maybe she had a bad dream, or a delusion that caused her to become so afraid. Whatever it was, it didn't feel right. Tentatively, I began searching the room. I needed to find out more about this Rosemary woman.

I slid my hand slowly across the white lace covering her oak wood table; on it she had a pair of thick, brown rimmed reading glasses and an antique porcelain tea set with painted roses and gold trim. I picked up one of the empty tea cups and stared inside. It looked ancient! The bottom of the cup was covered in tiny scratches running every which direction and the sides of the cup were even worse. Maybe I was reading into things a little too much, but the scratches almost resembled someone or something trying to claw its way out. I could feel my heart begin to pound in my chest as I stared down at the tiny scratches in the cup.

I set it down slowly and opened the lid to the teapot. As I opened it, a single large cockroach scurried out from inside and ran out onto the table. I jumped back. The insect stared at me for a long while and I stared back. It’s beady eyes pierced into me like daggers. It’s hard brown exterior shone from the dim light in the hall.  When I moved to the left, the cockroach in return moved with me. I couldn’t blink, my eyes locked on the creature that sat before me. It was watching me. I stood still and after, what felt like an eternity, the roach scurried down the leg of the table and onto the floor. I wanted to run over and squish it, but something stopped me. I watched as the roach began running up the long pink bedding and onto Rosemary's chest. I wasn’t sure I could believe my eyes; was I that sleep deprived?  I didn’t want to...I really didn’t want to...but I  watched as the cockroach from inside the pot made its way to Rosemary's lips, pushing flaked pieces of skin with its feet as it buried itself inside. I could see her neck pulse and crawl as it made its way down the back of her throat. I began shrieking but muffled my screams with my hands as I slowly backed out of the room. Suddenly Rosemary’s eyes shot open wide, she slowly turned her head towards me and smiled evilly.

I turned and was going to run but slammed straight into the morning shift nurse.

"OUCH! Damn Mara... are you okay? You don't look so good…” the morning shift nurse said, still in pain but with concern in her voice.

"Yeah…” I responded, “I'm just tired... I've worked fifty-two hours this week already, and it's only Thursday." I didn't want to tell her what happened and that I was creeped out by our new patient, so I left it at that. It is not like she would believe me anyway.

I hurried up my charting and made sure to put a few vague, but haunting notes on my patients in room 216, and made my way out the door as fast as I could. When I arrived at home I stripped my clothes off and fell into my bed. I was not taking the effort to shower after the night I had. As my head hit the pillow I almost instantly fell asleep. My last thought was of Rosemary...and her strange tea set. This next shift was going to come all too quickly.

That night when I woke, my first thought was of her as well. I hoped that I wouldn't end up with that section tonight, but given that it was the hardest section, and no one liked to work it, I typically got stuck there. I made my way slowly through my normal routine. I wanted to call in sick, but it was way past the 2 hour courtesy notice required for call offs. I would have to suck it up.

My drive to work seemed shorter than usual. Images of blood stained walls, cockroaches,  and creepy old ladies plagued my mind. I couldn't help feeling that somehow she was... watching me. I pulled into the parking lot as the sun began to fade on the horizon. In the corner of the window by the entrance was Rosemary. I blinked tiredly and looked again with widened eyes. She was holding something... I couldn't quite make out what it was. As I got out of my car and made my way to the door, she was gone. “Odd,” I thought anxiously to myself, “She is fast for her age.”

I shook it off and made my way inside and began my usual routine of getting coffee, and checking and receiving report for my assignment. When I got to station three, I received a startling report on 216A. Florence had lost five pounds overnight and had a small sore on her right leg that hadn't been there before.  

"Strange..." I said aloud.

"Why is that strange?" The other nurse, Erin, asked. I stared blankly down the hall for awhile before I realized she was talking to me.

"Oh, nothing. It's just... have you noticed anything weird going on in that room lately?" She gave me a funny look.

"Mara, how many hours have you worked this week? Maybe you should take a day or two off, you look like you need it." I frowned as she walked away.

I made the usual rounds on my patients to quiet them all down and give them their medications. As I made my way closer and closer to 216 my hands began sweating and my stomach churned. I didn't want to go in that room, I didn't want to see her face. I took my time, trying to prolong the inevitable. When I finally ran out of excuses to stay in 215, I made my way slowly into room 216. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when I walked in. Rosemary was at her table sipping from her empty teacup, and Florence was in the bed next to her fast asleep. The window was open slightly, and the breeze from outside lightly swayed the tan curtains. The lights were dimmed and it was quiet as death.The rattling sound in Rosemary’s chest was gone... not a sound could be heard in the room until she pursed her lips and slurped on her tea.

I decided to start with Rosemary so I could get her out of the way. When I made my way over to her, I could see her cup was again empty. I looked at her and her black eyes glared into mine. Something about her was different tonight. The wrinkles around her eyes had softened, and her dark, grey, coarse hair was lightened and shined in the light. The bags under her droopy eyes had vanished and the scabs on her scalp seemed to have healed overnight. She suddenly seemed ten years younger. Chills ran up my spine as she continued glaring into my soul. I mouthed to her that I was going to help her into bed to look at her legs. As I unwrapped the bandages, the smell hit my stomach just as usual, but I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Her legs were healing at a rapid rate. It was physically impossible for them to have healed that much in one day. Yesterday they looked as if they were rotting away. The maggots had died and shriveled laying crunched against her bandages. I shook the dead maggot carcasses into the trash and wrapped her legs back up gagging as Rosemary stared at me amusingly. I tucked her in and made my way over to Florence.

My hands flew up to cover my mouth as I gasped at the sight of her. Her long white hair was dull and dying. Her soft wrinkles were engraved into her face like a stone carvings. Her mouth gaped open and a stench as deadly as Rosemary's legs escaped with each breath. If you listened closely, you could hear a very faint rattle beginning to invade her chest. In report I was told she lost five pounds, but now by the looks of her, it was clearly at least ten. I opened the blankets to find her leg bandaged tightly. Under the bandage was at least seven lesions with already dying flesh surrounding them. I turned the light up from a dim and saw, to my horror, the sores didn't stop there. Her arms, chest, and left leg were also covered with gruesome sores. While I was looking over Florence, I could see something small crawling around tangled in her white sheets. I choked back fear and reached for the blanket shaking as I flipped the contents over, a DAMN cockroach glided out from the blankets for me. I shook my hands frantically to fling it away from landing on me. It fell to the ground with an unexpected thud.

"What did you do to her you evil bitch!" I screamed at Rosemary, knowing she couldn't hear me. But as I said it she laughed loudly and it echoed in the room. She was laughing AT me!

"Leave her alone! You understand? Just leave her alone!" She cackled louder and I ran out of the room.

I shook as I fell back into my chair. I could hardly breathe. I went to pick up my pen to write some notes on room 216, but it fell out of my hand as I trembled. I chugged what was left of my coffee and pushed the other twenty binders to the floor forcefully and focused my attention on Rosemary's chart. I hastily flipped through the pages and read every detail to find as much information on this woman as I could. There was literally no information on her that could help me. I sat defeated until I remembered her emergency contact number. It had no name, but I was sure I could at least find something out if I called.

I picked up the phone and dialed the emergency contact number. As it began ringing, another ring answered its call. The ring was coming from down the hall. I walked with the phone, as long as the cord would allow, to hear where the ringing was coming from. Room 216. My face went pale as I heard someone pick up on the other end. Heavy breathing was bellowing in my ear. My heart stopped and I stood perfectly still.

For awhile we said nothing. I gathered some courage and began asking questions.       

"Um... hello. My names Mara,” I said, ignorantly hoping the phone ringing down the hall was just a coincidence.   

“This number was listed as an emergency contact for Miss Rosemary Pine. I had a few questions I wanted to ask so I can fill out more of her chart. May I ask who this is? No one took a name for whom the emergency contact was." More shallow breathing was heard on the other line before a crackling voice began speaking to me.

"She tastes good with cream and sugar." Howling laughter could be heard on the line and down the hall. I quickly ran back to my desk and hung up the phone. It's Rosemary! But how?!? There are no phones in any of the patient rooms! I ran up the hall to station two in hopes the other nurses would understand. As I came stumbling up the hall, the other nurse on duty Jason looked oddly at me as I tried to catch my breath. I was sweating profusely.

"Jason!” I said breathlessly, “I think the new patient is killing my other patient!" I screamed psychotically. My eyes darted around the area looking for her.

“Jason she’s watching I know she’s watching!”

He sat silent.

"Uh, Mara.... are you sure?” He said, ignoring my clearly crazy comment about Rosemary watching us, “I mean these people are pretty old, and you seem, well... you just don’t seem yourself lately. You haven't gotten much rest and I think it might be getting to you. Go back to your station, finish up your work, and go home early. Take a day off. This place is starting to get to you." He said as he backed his chair away from me, clearly frightened by my behavior.

"No!" I said. "I am serious! Florence is in bad shape and I think this new lady has something to do with it. I just tried calling her emergency contact and it was her on the other line!" This is all I could tell him without further warranting a one way ticket to the loony bin.

"Mara, seriously, stop it. Who cares if she made herself her emergency contact. She's old. Give it a rest already."I walked sluggishly back to my station, feeling defeated that no one believed me. When I sat down, the phone began to ring. We never got phone calls on the night shift. I let it ring, and ring, and ring, until finally, I fearfully reached my hand to the receiver and grabbed the phone. I picked it up and gradually rested it against my ear. The heavy breathing began again and I sat frozen.

"Poor Mara, no one will believe her. The mean old lady in 216 is killing her roommate. What are you going to do, NURSE? How are you going to save her?" She laughed into my ear sending rage and fear into my heart. I opened my mouth to respond but froze speechless. She hung up and the dial tone invaded my ears. How could she hear my conversation with Jason? She was deaf! That's impossible! I went to set the phone down and as I did, the phone shook wildly in my hand. I turned the phone over and my bloodshot eyes watched as hundreds of cockroaches came pouring out of the tiny holes of the phone. I threw it down to the ground as they piled up, crawling around my feet; shaking the remainder of them off of my hand I literally began losing my mind. I thrashed and screamed in my seat. I rocked back and forth tucking my knees in for comfort. I pulled my hair and wrenched my head up screaming louder. I begged for it all to end. A piercing shriek from down the hall stopped my rocking trance. When I  looked down again, the bugs had vanished. I couldn’t move, I only stared down at the once infested carpet, trying to comprehend what was happening. Another shriek woke me from a lifeless haze. I ran down the hall to the room and began trying to comfort Florence as she hollered in pain.

"Why are you doing this!?" I screamed at Rosemary. No response. "I know you can hear me!!! What are you doing to her?" Spit foaming at the sides of my mouth, again no response. I brushed the hair out of Florence’s eyes and ran to get her some pain medication to ease whatever pain was being inflicted on her. She hollered as I stuck the pain pill in her mouth and gave her sips to swallow. It took about 5 minutes for her to finally quiet down and fall back asleep. I was thankful, but more worried about her than ever. Rosemary was next to her now fast asleep. My thoughts romanticized smothering her with her pillow. I didn't want to lose my license... but I also didn't want her killing my patient; This is how I rationalized my thirst for smothering her. We were supposed to protect our patients from all harm.

I stood over Rosemary’s bed contemplating her untimely demise and wondering how I could make it look like she died naturally. She was old. No one would ever know the difference between her dying in her sleep, being smothered, or overdosing on medication. But inevitably, I made my way to my desk, brushing my unhinged thoughts aside and burying those thoughts into the charting I hadn’t even started.

I sat down and book by book, halfheartedly charted on each of my patients. Staring blankly off at my medicine cart from time to time with a mind that was occupied with thoughts of killing Rosemary with Morphine. When I got to 216's chart I began an hour long three page progress report on both bed A and B. In as much detail as possible, I explained the impossible recovery of Ms. Pine, and the quickly declining health of Ms. Maddex. I hoped maybe if people read the notes that they could put a connection together themselves. I went to the break room when I was finished and refilled my coffee. I was exhausted from the nights venture and needed desperately to get the hell out of this place. The rest of the morning I looked at ads in the paper for open nursing positions in the area until the next shift nurse came in. I didn't even give report. I handed over the med keys and walked as fast as I could out of the building.

When I got home I did everything I could to fall asleep, but nothing was working. I couldn't get what had happened out of my mind I just wanted it to all go away. I took a few Benedryl from my medicine cabinet hoping the drowsy side effect would put me to sleep. As I laid down the room began spinning and all I could hear was her voice echoing "She tastes good with cream and sugar." As I lay there with my eyes open, a lone cockroach perched up in the corner of my room and I could only watch, paralyzed, as it seemed to watch me.

After hours of that sentence playing over in my head and staring at the spy in the corner of my room, I slowly began to doze off, but even that didn't stop the voices.

"She tastes good with cream and sugar, and I'm going to drink every last drop of her" Rosemary's words filled my dreams.

"I'm going to suck her bones dry, and there is nothing you can do about it; poor tired, Mara." She cackled. "She tastes so good, with cream and sugar!" I woke violently out of my deep sleep and hurriedly got dressed. My attire was less than work appropriate, but sweatpants and an old college t-shirt would have to do. I knew what was going on now, and I had to go save Florence!

The only thing fueling my tired body was adrenaline and fear. I fumbled with the keys for only a moment, then jumped into my car and drove as fast as I could back to work. There were many things running through my head the twenty-five minute drive felt like an eternity.

When I arrived, I quickly made my way into the building and ran down the hallway to room 216. When I got there, three men with a gurney were carrying a small black body bag out of the room. The hall wreaked of death and a delicate pale blue, sore covered hand fell out of the unzipped body bag. One of the men apologized, grabbed the hand, and pushed it back into the bag. My heart sunk into my stomach.

"What happened!?!? I yelled after the men. They looked me up and down like I was delusional. I pushed them out of the way and opened the bag. There was Florence, the beauty drained from her sore covered skin. Old blood traced her jaw line into her neck. Her soft white hair was grayed, and it had patches where it had fallen out. Her skin, was pale blue, and her body withered like a dying flower. She looked like she had aged forty years since I saw her. I got one good look before one of the men pushed me aside and quickly zipped up the body bag.

"Have you lost your damn mind? Let's get out of here before she gets any crazier." For an instant time stood still and I forgot what my purpose was in being here, that was, until I heard a slurping noise coming from room 216... That bitch was sipping that empty tea cup again, and I knew she had something to do with this. I made my way into the room and sitting in her brown oak chair was Rosemary... sipping that same god damn cup of tea and grinning. But this time, she had to look another ten years younger. Her hair cascaded down her side, grey, with auburn streaks. Her wrinkles had softened even more and her once pale skin had a soft honey glow. I furiously walked up to her and screamed in her face "What have you done to her!?!?!!"

I looked down and noticed something ...different about her usually empty tea cup. Inside her cup, was a pale white creamy colored liquid, that glowed a slight shade of yellow. I bent down to look closer and as I did, Rosemary grabbed the back of my neck and roughly pushed my face so close to the cup my nose nearly touched the fluorescent liquid. I pushed back a bit and that's when I saw it. Tiny shadows shaped like bodies floating through the creamy liquid like koi in a pond. They were airy and light, but as I looked closer, and focused my attention, I could make out the torture on their dead faces. As I glanced at each face, there, floating among the bodies, was Florence.

"She tasted so good with cream and sugar." I stepped back and grabbed for the tea cup.

"I...I...I..." I stuttered.  No words would escape my trembling lips. I grabbed for her cup and chucked it at the wall, shattering the glass into little pieces. Nothing but the glass hit the floor. I looked down at the porcelain grave. No liquid, no bodies, no Florence. I turned around to face Rosemary again, but she was gone. Not a trace of her left in the room: Her bed, once covered in her soft pink bedding, was gone; her table gone, tea set gone, all of Rosemary, gone.

I sat down against the wall next to the only remaining evidence she ever existed, and smashed my hand into the broken glass beside me.

"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real" I said repetitively to comfort myself, with not much relief. I knew it was real, it was all so very real. I picked up my glass embedded hand and watched as the drops of blood ran out the cuts and stained the carpet. I scratched my bloodied hand through the glass again, wanting to feel anything but the numbness I was experiencing at that moment. My boss poked her head through the door.

"What is all this noise? What is going on, Mara? Why are you even here and what did you do to your hand." I sat still against the wall and ignored her. "Mara, I'm going to need you to come to my office." Again I sat motionless against the wall. She stood staring at me for awhile, so I finally gathered a few words for her.

"She killed Florence" was all I could manage.

"Who killed Florence?! I'm going to need to get a better report than that on this; you need to tell me what happened!" I stood up slowly and walked to station three to grab Florence and Rosemary's charts. We made our way to the corner of the building to her office. Her office was quiet and cold. Unlike the rest of the building, it was clean kept and didn't seem to belong in a nursing home. I slammed the charts on her desk and before she could get a word out, I began my own interrogation.

"Why has nobody read my notes? Why has nobody done anything about 216B?! Why did Florence have to suffer and no one paid any attention but me? Why did you keep Rosemary here when everything I charted proved we needed to get her out of here! She died because of you! No one took anything I said seriously and now look what has happened!" I nearly screamed every word of it at her. I began breathing aggressively at her. She only looked at me puzzlingly and worried.

"Mara.... there is no 216B... who is Rosemary?" She said calmly, as if she was trying to preserve what little sanity I had left. I was seconds from losing it.

"You know! Rosemary! She's the woman who moved in with Florence a couple of days ago before all of this started happening!" I grabbed 216B's chart and furiously flipped the cover open. It was blank. I flipped to the next page, blank. The next, blank. Blank... blank... blank... I began ripping through pages, savagely looking for my notes or any of her admission papers.

Nothing.

"No! No! No!" I screamed, "She was here!" I began describing every detail of the woman but stopped as I noticed my boss was giving me a look like she was afraid of me.

"Mara... I think you need to use your vacation days and go home for a couple of weeks. There has been no admissions in room 216B for over 6 months." I stared at the blank pages and said nothing. I had lost my mind. No one knew of a Rosemary but me... I was alone. I began questioning everything that had happened in the last few days, and began to believe that this was all a delusion caused by my own sleep deprivation. I had never truly been able to relate fully to my patients, until now. I had more empathy for them than I ever had. I made my way out of her office, packed the few things I had at work and walked to my car.

"I'm just crazy," I thought as I sat in the driver’s seat and slightly giggled. I couldn't wrap my mind around what had just happened. I felt it was real, but there was no proof that it was. I was stunned. I put my car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. I was finally starting to feel the effects of the Benedryl about ten minutes into my drive. I turned on the radio to keep myself awake and my mind occupied. I stared hypnotized on the pavement. My eyes began to flutter, and I shook my head to stay awake. Again my eyes fluttered. As I tried to focus on the road something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. A single cockroach crawled up onto my steering wheel. At that moment, I lost it. I swung furiously at the creature, with intent to kill. My car jerked back and forth, swerving across the road. I was still swinging my fists violently in the car until finally… *CRASH*

My eyes began to flutter, but this time, they fluttered awake. My sight was blurry but the faint sounds of beeping and an IV drip filled the room. As my eyes began to focus I looked down and read my wrist band.

"Mara Landry. March 26, 1989. St. John's Hospital," at that moment I felt more safe than I had in days and more rested than I had felt in months. I sunk my head into my pillow and relaxed my body. As I began to nod off, a nurse popped his head around the corner of the doorway.

"Hey! You are awake! You have been out for three days! How are you feeling" he asked enthusiastically. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I'm fine! Actually, the best I've felt in awhile.” I went to move my feet to the edge of the bed but they were heavy. I pulled my blankets over and both my legs were bruised and had large casts up to my knees.

The nurse explained. "You had quite the accident, broke both of your legs, but you’re lucky! From the damage your car took, it's a miracle you're alive!" It didn't bother me actually, the comfort the hospital gave me made me want to stay forever. We went over my care plan, he checked me over, got my vital signs, got my insurance information, some signatures he needed from me, and explained future discharge plans. He replaced my bag of Saline on my IV and a last minute remark sprang in his head as he tossed the empty IV bag into the trash and began exiting the room.

"Oh I almost forgot to tell you. We have a patient being admitted within the next couple of hours and she will be your roommate. It shouldn't be a problem though, she's a sweet older lady. Her name is Rosemary."