#And a man who drove himself to the hospital with a fully shattered hand & wrist while having an aneurysm

[chicago-geniza]

We're supposed to be using MyFitnessPal to log our intake etc. but also any "anomalies" including vomiting, diarrhea, what have you, and I don't think experimental protocols were designed for "post-ED dual-wielding gastroparesis/IBD-NOS patient who would take 'dignity of risk' as a family motto if they had a crest & coat of arms, but would settle for 'NOTHING CAN DO ANYTHING TO ME'"

Anyway we were meant to enter our values from the previous day and I was like "well I had two plain Shake Shack burgers on gluten-free buns with extra pickles and then I vomited 700 mL of bile and blood. Is there a tab for that" and the dietician looked like she'd been shot

[slasherslittlehelper]

Running Blind - Part 3

For @angelplier027 💖

Find part two HERE!

The blood on Michaels hands slowly began to dry when he pushed himself through a half open door with panes of frosted glass. He heard muffled voices, not able to understand what they were saying, but seemingly there were two people talking. Standing in almost complete darkness, through another ajar door fell bright rays of neon light. It illuminated the room he was in just enough to make the metal table in it’s middle glisten and reflect on the cooler right behind it. It lined up across the whole wall and he knew one of them was holding you, cold and alone. You shouldn’t be there, your rest so violently disturbed! But he would make up for it! The Doctor already faced his revenge, now the two strangers that dared to examine you were next.

It hadn’t been all too difficult to find a way to get to Loomis. Michael was used to the habits of Smith’s Grove, knowing the routine, knowing every little detail of the daily procedure. Inside that hellhole of a psychiatric hospital, every day was the same, only the treatments he received over the years changed from time to time. The patients needed a strict and always consistent routine they said. He guessed they were just glad the monotony turned most of the patients into empty shells. The good thing about it was that he just had to wait for a good chance and it occurred sooner than he thought it would.

The medication he received had been different to the former ones they gave him at the hospital. Dr. Loomis made sure it would contain enough sedatives to even knock out an elephant, so it had been no wonder he felt dizzy and drained. The fact that you were gone made the effects the meds had more and more tempting, to let himself getting drowned in numbness and maybe even oblivion, but the Dr. had to pay! That and the thought of you being somewhere foreign made him go on. He had been there for a few days when they took him out of his room and down the familar corridors. Smith’s Grove was built like a maze with endless seeming hallways, countless doors, stairs and corners, but Michael knew it like the back of his hand. Not only once had he wandered off, playing cat and mouse with the staff or escaped.

They brought him into a room close to Loomis office. It was equipped with a table where a computer sat on, next to it a machine Michael recognized as an EEG. He got seated in front of the computer and no one said a word when a member of the staff started the machines, two others guarding the door. He hadn’t been able to remember them, but that was no surprise. The members off the staff changed more often than one their underwear. The computer came to life in front of him and while it booted up, his scalp got moistened and a tight fitting rubber cap squeezed onto his head. He always hated the way this thing clung to him, the wetness in his hair caursing an itch that nearly drove him nuts.

There was still nothing but silence when the electrodes got attached to the cap and to his tamples, the only noise a beeping from the computer here and there. It took several more moments of adjusting until the woman that fumbled around on him finally spoke. „We’re running some cognitive tests on you to see how intense the effects of the medication are.“, with that her hands grabbed his right wrist. She opened up the handcuff, allowing him to actually use the machine in front of him, while his left hand remained attached to the chain around his waist. His eyes followed her movememts when she explained what exactly he had to do, his resistance growing steadily. They were using him as a lab rat again! Tightening his jaws he gritted his teeth, wanting to lash out and hammer her head into the tabletop, but if he wanted to get to you, he had to play along. Increased safety measures wouldn’t be helpful.

It was right when the computer started the test program that the alarm went off. A high pitched beeping that send unpleasant waves through Michaels body whenever he heard it. Usually it went off at nights, at least more often than days, ripping him out of a light slumber or startling him out of his thoughts. When this noise rippled through the hallways, Michael knew things got hectical. It meant someone was freaking out completely and the beeping would shrill over all wards, alarming the whole staff something was happening. Not only once had it be him causing the offending sound and he knew exactly everyone got nervous when it went off.

The protocol dictated that, when running tests or doing other appointments, one member of the staff always had to stay with the patient while the others took off. The three members guarding him were new, unexperienced and not used to the alarm like the old stagers were. Though it slightly surprised him how thoughtless they acted, the fact that the two guys left him alone with the woman couldn’t have been more practical. It played right into his cards, offering him the chance he needed.

The woman had appeared nervous, pacing through the small office room while Michael kept absolutely still. He pretended to concentrate onto the screen, being deaf for the still screaming alarm, but watched her from the corner of his eyes. His left hand had been still cuffed, his feet chained to each other, preventing proper steps, but his right hand was free and that would be enough. Waiting for the perfect moment, it came when she paced past him, throwing a short glance onto the screen to get a glimpse of how he he was doing. A startled gasp escaped her when Michael suddenly jumped up and grabbed her by the neck. Surprise and panic were written in her wide open eyes, but as much as he wanted to enjoy the moment and bath in her fear, there had been more important things waiting for him. A fast movement send her down onto the tabletop head first, her painfilled scream quickly dying in her throat when she sank to the floor. Blood graced her face, her nose obviously broken, maybe her cheekbones and eyesockets as well and it send a satisfication through Michael he hadn’t been able to fully resist. Admiring the sight, he worked hard to suppress the urge to end it completely. Inside his mind images flicked up, his hands on her throat strangling the life out of her or picking her limp body up and smashing her into the table over and over again until her skull would‘ve been crushed into thousand pieces.

Instead his free hand rummaged around her pockets after ripping the annoying cap from his head. It hadn’t took long to find the key that would set his other limbs free and when he had been able to fully move, he instantly made his way out of the room. The hallway had been empty and it was just then that he noticed the silence that had fallen over the building again. Who ever was causing the trouble had been tamed now, probartely strapped down and sedated. The staff would return to their left work quickly and he had to hurry.

Losing no time his steps determinedly leaded him to Loomis office. He could find that room in total darkness, had he been there so often over the years, but now it would be different, now he would be in charge. The door opened without resistance and he slipped in quickly, immediately shutting it behind him and locking it. Loomis had been sitting at his desk, brooding over some paperwork when his head snapped up with a confused look on his face, hearing the lock of the door click. „Micheal…“, he breathed in disbelief, the panic in his voice clear as day, the pencil he was writing with slipping from his grasp.

They moved rapidly. Michael striding torwards the Doctor, Loomis jumping from his chair and pressing himself into a bookshelf at the wall. There was a short pause, lasting only a fraction of a second, but it had been enough for Michael to take everything in. The bastard knew exactly what he had done, staring at him with that paniced, but knowing gaze, and he would pay for it. Now!

Dashing forward and grabbing the Doctor, Michael collided into him with so much force the shelf behind them almost toppled and several books fell to the ground. The man gave a painfilled groan, only spuring Michaels rage. This wasn’t about him and Loomis, this was about you and what the psychiatrist did to you! This fact made repeadly smashing the man into the wooden shelf even more satisfying, every whimper and hiss sending a buzzing sensation through Michaels entire body. His hands found their way around the doctors throat, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. He wanted to yell at the psychiatrist, shout and scream his anger and sadness out at him, but he wouldn’t grant him this triumph. His grip made everything that radiated through him clear and he watched the life fading out of Loomis. The man had been pressed into the shelf, his feet above the floor and Michael closely oberserved the color of his face changing. It went from red to a shade of purple, hissing noises pressing out of the Doctors throat while his hands clawed into Michaels hospital gown and his feet fidgeted in the air. It was like watching a long unfinished artwork finally coming to completion.

Suddenly there were footsteps on the corridor and a door got opened. Michael heard a male voice curse and the next second the doorknob of Loomis office turned rapidly. The rattling died away after a few attempts, but then something solid collided with the door. When it finally gave way, the two guys that had been guarding him earlier bursted into the room and he had no other choice than to let go of Loomis. The Doctor fell to the floor, coughting and groaning and Michael used the only exit that was left. He firmly squeezed his eyes shut, his arms crossed over his chest, when he jumped through the window, glass shattering joined by the surprised gasps of the staff members. His impact had been hard and though he had tried to roll off as good as possible, something cracked in his left shoulder, sending a burning pain down over his arm and into his fingertips. A few glass splinters had pierced into his neck and hands, several trails of blood soaking the white fabric of the hospital gown, but the second after he had landed he had been up again, running like crazy.

Now, standing in the slightly light morgue, the sparkling of something small and metallic caught his attention. Carefull and silent steps carried him to a small cart, it’s top covered with a layer of paper sheet. Michaels head tilted from left to right when his fingers traced the small, metallic objects sitting on the carts top. It was hard to make out the shape in the poor light, but gently running his fingertips over the cool instruments, he managed to determine them. He came to an abrupt halt when he felt a tiny and vastly sharp blade under his observing touch. Lifting the scalpel up and holding it closely in front of his face, he eyed the petite object. It wasn’t as impressing or intimidating as the knives he used to kill with, but it would serve his needs. The situation was rare, but this time the fear of his victims would be incidental, important was getting you out there, taking you back to were you belonged, at his side.