Dr. Hamilton?: A Short Story

Patient 71 – Emma Boertje, Preliminary Extension English

“Dr Hamilton?”

I’m lost in a trance of sorts. Being trapped within the walls of the same building day after day exhausts me to no end. Especially in a place like this. 10 years in this profession and it has never been easy. With my eyes trained on the dim light positioned at my desk, my vision goes fuzzy until the voice rings through my ears again.

“Doctor?”

I look up, my eyes readjusting. One of the nurses looks down at me worriedly.

“Dr Kerr has left for home. He appeared rather sick.”

I tell her I understand, and she swiftly leaves the room. I gather the files on my desk, and head towards the door. I hesitate. Taking a long breath in, I close my eyes, bracing myself for the lonely

The chill that the night brings here is something I can never shake. I look down at my folder, decipher the requirements of the night’s work and amble down the hallways. The clicking of my shoes fills the silent void that suffocates the air around me, echoing through the halls. As I pass each room, the screeches cease from within. They know that their calls are useless in the night. I peek into the tiny slits in the doors. I see scenes of horror; I see pictures of terror that keep me from sleep with only disgust rushing through my body. I see the absolute collapse of the human mind. It never becomes

I notice something out of place at the end of the hallway. The light bulb was on. I can’t imagine why. The room has been empty for the entirety of my career. My curiosity burns bright as I peer closer at the door. I can’t help but feel drawn to it. I notice a sign underneath the light. ‘Patient 71. High Concern’. Surely I would’ve been notified of this patient. The lights flicker as I am eclipsed in maddening silence. I peer through the slit in the door, to be greeted by a young man sitting stiffly on the edge of his mattress, staring directly at me. I jump back in horror. How could he know I was there? I breathe heavily, feeling my heart beat through my ears.

“Don’t you want to see me doctor?”

I bring my eye back to the slit, the man’s dark, chilling eyes staring at me. We watch each other until he slowly moves his hand and taps the space beside him.

“Come. Sit with me, Doctor.”

His mouth upturns. Despite this, curiosity overwhelms me as I fumble for the key. Something within compels me to open the door. My hand moves to the lock, and after a few shaky attempts, I manage to get the key in.

“Come on Doctor.”

I twist the key and the door gives a strident creak, stirring the few patients still awake into another state of riot. Closing the door behind me, I look down on the man. He is only young.

“How do you do, Dr