Chapter 4

     The rhyme leaves the old lady broken. Slowly, she rocks back and forth, clutching desperately to her hair. I try to inquire further about her strange words, but asking more questions gets me nowhere. She's gone. Disappeared in her head. Senile. Despite the questions left unanswered I call in more nurses to help hold her down as I do a quick job of drawing her blood, momentarily forgetting her nursery lullaby.  

     Dr. Long—always one with impeccable timing—arrives just as soon as I finish drawing her blood. He takes one look at the lady before motioning me to follow him back outside to the other side of the drawn curtain, and with a tired sigh he voices my thoughts, "Shae, the lady in there is senile; has been for years. Don't take to heart anything she says."

     Giving a brisk nod I agree with the doctors words. Even a small child could tell that the poor woman is lost in the maze of her thoughts and memories, unable to truly function in the world today. Still...I can't help but feel disturbed by her haunting statement. What did she mean by 'I wear his mark on my wrist'?

     "I understand Dr. Long," I say, "I didn't mean to make her freak out. I'm not even sure what I did to begin with." He pats a hand on my shoulder, kind eyes gazing into mine.

     "Most likely you made a slight memory pop up, but that can be caused by anything from your body shape to the way you move," he explains, "It's not your fault." I smile and say "thanks" as Dr. Long starts to walk away to his next patient of the day, brown eyes focused on the clipboard in hand.

     "Children should learn to behave..."

     "Eat too many cookies and you'll get a visitor..."

**** 

     "You just had to make one of the patients lose control today didn't you?" Anne asks, annoyance clear in her voice. I ignore her and focus on the unconscious patient before me, checking their heart monitor and fluids. The young woman huffs and snatches a pair of elastic gloves from the box beside me, knocking it to the floor. I turn, a snappy remark on the end of my tongue but she's already halfway down the hall and well out of hearing range.

     With a frustrated groan, I pick back up my clipboard before walking back down the hall. My eyes roam over the names and numbers, the two mixing together as my eyes are weary from exhaustion.

     Then the busy sounds of the hospital stop.

     I quickly look up from the clipboard at the sudden change and see a blue suited man standing at the end of the corridor. His stance is relaxed with hands in his pockets. Face seemingly...swallowed up by shadows. A faint deep chuckle reaches my ears and looking closer I can see his shoulders jerk. I turn around, searching for anybody else. Anne, Shirley, one of the doctors, but...no one is there. The hallways are devoid of all life. Turning back around I let out a squeak of shock. The man has disappeared. 

     Shae...,a voice calls, Shae... 

     Shae...

     A plump hand lands on my shoulder shaking me awake. "Shae, are you ok?" A soft female voice asks, the familiar hospital noises returning.

     Unfocused I sputter out, "Wha...What? Oh...I'm fine. Sorry just spaced out for a bit. I'll get back to work right away." My eyes scan the area and a slight of fear runs up my spine. I'm not in the hallway at all but in the nurse's station, without the faintest memory of walking here. 

     "Darling, you're pale," Shirley states, ushering me into one of the few rolling chairs, "Are you sure you are feeling well? Why don't you sit down and tell me what's wrong." I shrug my shoulders in reply. Is it worth telling her I am seeing illusions? Should I lie about it? Taking a deep breath I slowly let it out, calming my racing pulse.

     "Shirley...I'm...I think I'm...did you...see a man in a blue suit come into the hospital today?" I shakily say.

     Shirley's eyebrows scrunch up, her lips pressing into a thin line. One of her hands reaches out and lands gently on my knee. "Shae we'd be running our butts off more than usual if someone like that came in today," she softly says, "I think you just may be stressed out, tired from all the work. You're young. Maybe starting a full time job so young has you...strung out. Add this with the stress you have your own life outside of work with your roommate and you're bound to start imagining things."

     I nod my head in understanding.  Shirley doesn't say it but I knew she was hinting at the idea that Mitchell and I are dating, even though I insist that we're not. It's better to just let her believe what she wants. 

     Shirley leans back, removing her hand from my knee, letting out a sigh. "I think you should go home for the day. Relax and get some sleep and by tomorrow you'll feel good as new." I give a slight smile, my hands still shaking. 

     "That sounds nice."

     Shirley gives a wrinkled smile. "Then it's decided. You will go home and get lots of rest."

     She digs through the cabinets finding my purse and hands it to me. With a push, she walks me to the EXIT door and says, "Don't worry about your patients. I'll just make Anne take over them, she doesn't have that many today." We pause at the entrance as the automatic doors swing open, the fresh air relaxing.

     "Oh," she continues with a sly smile, "Tell your boyfriend to take it easy on you. You need to rest." With that Shirley walks away before I can correct her. 

****

     Pulling into my parking spot I come to a complete stop, my fingers tightening their grip on the stirring wheel—anticipation washing over me. Slowly, I let go of the stirring wheel and breathe in and out through my mouth to calm my rapid heartbeat. Once my breathing evens, I open the door with a pop and walk towards the red door into my apartment. I'm nervous. But why I can't understand. Reaching out I open the door and walk inside.

     The blue cookies still sit on the counter top.

     Huffing, I throw my purse onto the couch and stomp over towards them. Grabbing the plate, I dump the cookies in the trash; satisfied when they're out of my view. A soft thump meets my ears as they hit the bottom of the plastic container and I huff in annoyance. Damn Mitchell was playing a joke on me. A wicked smile forms on my lips as my gaze drifts up to the balcony of the 2nd floor. Perhaps some cheerios hidden under his sheets will be good payback. Walking over to the cabinet I reach for the handle and nearly jump when my cellphone begins to ring. With a groan I rush over to my purse and quickly dig out the device, smiling when I see the caller I.D. reading "Mom". With a click, I answer the phone and bring it up to my ear.

     "Hey, baby girl!" Mom nearly screams, " How are you? Have you been eating well, getting enough sleep?" I roll my eyes at her worried tone.

     "Mom, I'm fine. Stop worrying about me. I've lived away from you for what, a year and a half now?" I hear a sigh through the line.

     "I can't help but worry about you, baby girl. Just because you moved out doesn't mean that I'm not going to worry about you every day." 

     I chuckle and sit down on the couch, making myself comfortable between the two plush throw pillows. "Once again mom I'm fine but thank you for worrying about me." I smile "What have you been up to?"

     Her giggle on the other side makes my eyebrows quirk. "Oh...you know, same old same old. Your father and I have had a few vacations together. It reminds me of our honeymoon. Just as frisky as he was back then."

     I gag in response. "Gee, thanks for telling me."

     She laughs at my discomfort. "Shae darling, your old enough to know about these things. You can't stay innocent forever. Besides, how do you think you got here?" I grumble under my breath, my cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

     "Whatever."

     "Which reminds me do you have a boyfriend yet? A lover perhaps?"

     "No! Mom I do not have a boyfriend," with downcast eyes and bright cheeks I finish my sentence in a whisper, "let alone a lover."

     "Shae, Shae, Shae...you can't always be around your imaginary friends. You need to get out and find you a nice lovely guy that will treat you right of course." My eyebrows lift in surprise.

      "What imaginary friends?"

      Mom laughs. "Oh, the ones you chat about from time to time. Though, I haven't heard much about them recently," she happily replies, "You've always been so creative. Have you ever thought of writing down your thoughts?"

      This cannot be right. "Mom slow down. I don't remember an imaginary friend at all. Did I ever tell you what they looked liked?" I demand.

      "Oh goodness Shae I can't really recall," she explains with a laugh, a resounding knock hitting my front door, "With being promoted to Senior Financial Advisor this past month and with you're father retiring it's been hard just to remember to put my shoes on. Which I should say are very—" The knocking on the door turns into banging as Mom talks, distracting me from her speech.

      "Hold on for a sec, Mom," I say covering up the bottom of my phone with my hand, "Mitchell, use your damn keys!" The banging increases at my words, followed by a slow deep growl. I freeze at the sound, the hairs of my neck standing on end.

      ...that's not Mitchell...

_______________________________

Thanks for reading!

Check out our website: http://monsterofblue.wix.com/monsterofblue

Tell me what you think in the comments, or tell me what needs to be fixed. Please vote if you liked what you've read. It keeps me motivated and know that you guys, my lovely readers, are liking what I'm doing here.

See you next Friday/Saturday when we update!