Journal 2

I felt the creeping sensation that someone was watching me. Between every cracked door and window, I felt the uneasiness of eyes that followed and the presence of someone so close that I could feel the faint breath at the nape of my neck. I was so alone, but so close; it was akin to feeling the very clothes I wore holding me in --confining me. I screamed and yelled at the top of my lungs. I heard nothing but the echo and the tapping of my foot steps as I walked the long halls.

I felt a knot in my stomach as I licked my dry lips. I had no idea how long I had gone without food or water. Had it been days or weeks? How long had I been here before I woke? I slid my fingers down the edge of the rails connected to the walls that ran between each room and braced myself. I needed to find food and water.

I started opening every door that was unlocked and proceeded to search and scavenge for any sign of running water for food. Room after room I flipped over beds and shuffled through drawers. I turned every faucet and flushed every bone dry toilet, but nothing happened. A surge of panic came over me with the realization that I may starve to death –trapped.

            Then out of nowhere I heard a scratching noise echo through the halls. It was distant, so it must have come from another end of the unit. Without thinking, I ran towards the sound. As I passed the nurses’ station, my sense of logic came over me. I stopped and peered down the long hallway. The light from the window only allowed in enough light to see so far. What could it be? Maybe it’s a rat. Maybe it’s a person. Maybe it’s something dangerous. I couldn’t be certain, so I grabbed a clipboard off of the nurses’ desk, and moved toward the scratching –holding the clipboard above my chest in an attempt to use it as both a shield and a weapon.

            It seemed that with every step the scratching became louder but farther away. I could feel the vibrations beneath my bare feet on the cold hospital floors. Hesitant to continue, I pressed forward like a curious child. The scratching was becoming louder and louder. Almost there, it felt like the world was screaming around me with the scratching and the cold that kept getting colder. As I touched the doors, the scratching had become so loud that I had to hold my ears and shut my eyes from the pain. In a rush I dropped the clipboard.

           

            Smack!

           

            The scratching stopped. I heard nothing. I had curled in a ball on the floor in the fetal position and opened my eyes to see the pages on the clipboard scattered across the floor. I grabbed a few of the pages as I began to prop myself to rise.

I read across the pages and saw my name. I read words that made little sense to me, but one word came through clear: surgery. I placed my hand against the handle as warmth passed over me. Anticipation rose, with a sense of excitement.

Click.

I can’t tell you what I saw when I opened that door, but you will see for yourself one day. You have been my greatest friend in the silence.

Goodbye.

Journal 1

How many days have I been here? I've lost track of time, and this old type writer is my only companion. The silence & the loneliness are killing me. The clicking of the old hammer on ribbon to this piece of paper sings to me like a symphony of drummers tapping at the walls around me. Maybe I should be writing to you -you: the only presence in this cold dark prison. I don't even have to speak, but you listen. "Click click click," is all you say to prove you care.

I do not know you, but I hope you read this and know that we are friends: you who have found these pages; you are the only connection to humanity I have. I'll tell you everything I know and everything I remember.

I can't give you exact dates; I can only look out through the barred windows to the snow covered courtyard. The days seem short, so I'll say it's sometime close to December or January. I really can't say much more.

I don't really know how I got here; I just awoke in a hospital room. The sound of a phone ringing was the first thing I heard. I was so weak. Every muscle ached as I reached for the sound. So many questions went through my mind at once; all I knew was that I needed to answer it. Even being so close, I struggled as my limbs were stiff and poorly responsive. I was too late; as I touched the phone it stopped. Maybe they'll call back later.

The bed was almost as rigid as I was stiff; I reached over and, unable regain my balance, slid to the floor. My arm broke my fall as I fell with a hard smack. The pain was intense. I screamed for help; there was no answer; there was nothing but the ringing in my ears, and the taste of dust.

I laid there for several hours as question after question rushed through my mind. Where am I? How did I get here? Where is everyone? Is this a hospital, then why hasn’t anyone come to help me?

I had time to examine my environment as I slowly gained control of my limbs. Firstly, I noticed dust; it was becoming hard to breathe as I looked around for anything I could use to call for help. Maybe something happened and they forgot me. Maybe there was a disaster and they left me. Shouldn't I have family or friends that would have come to get me? I looked around further and noticed on the side table set a food tray. I was so hungry, but something smelt foul in the room; regardless, it was out of reach.

At this point something seriously concerned me. It should have been a clue that something was off, but I was too overwhelmed with the situation to even process the reasoning. The socket for the phone had nothing connected. In fact, I don't remember the phone being connected at all. Now that I think of it, maybe I disconnected the phone when I fell; that would have made more sense. Perhaps I just imagined the phone ringing. Maybe this is a nightmare, and I just need to wake up.

Bending my legs became easier. Occasionally they'd cramp, and I'd stop. After I spent a while trying to roll over, I eventually crawled to the chair next to the bed. I pulled myself up and sat examining the filthy bed I laid in and the molded meal tray. It was getting dark fast almost like all the light in the world was running from something. Unable to stand, I settled back to the floor, and hid beneath the bed. I've started sleeping beneath my bed every night since. There's something terrifying about how pitch black this place gets at night.

Night passed. I had no dreams. I woke beneath the metal undercarriage of the hospital bed, and wondered what I had done to deserve this. I was able to pull myself to the chair and then to an unstable standing position. I propped myself with whatever sturdy objects I could find as I worked my way to the door. As I braced myself, I turned the knob knowing that I was either about to be filled with shock or anger trying to explain the neglect I experienced.

The door opened, & I peered into the hallway. "Hello?" I yelled looking for any sign of life. My throat burned from the dust. No one answered. No one was there. I used the hand rail against the wall to brace myself as I walked my way to the nurses’ station. I could see the desk between the four halls.

The desk was empty. There were sets of papers all neatly stacked and organized. Next I looked through the drawers for anything useful. Beneath the phone was an old phone book. Thank God! Now I can find where I am. The cover was smeared with black ink. The pages had each word and name censored with a black marker. I called 911 --no answer. I started dialing random numbers --no long distance and no answer.

I have to get out. I ran to the unit doors; they wouldn't budge. I slammed myself into them -kicked them but to no avail. I went to the window and opened it. I ran my hands down the cold iron bars looking for some kind of latch or weakness; they were drilled into the concrete. I'm trapped.

That's when I found you. You were sitting in the office across from the window. The door read Henry Jennings M.D. & you sat upon the desk in the center of the room. I didn't know I'd be coming back so soon. You are my brother -my only friend in the silence.