writer(s): zumokiworks

artist(s): zumokiworks



A DOCTOR'S POINT OF VIEW - ______________________________

5:53 AM

Over three hundred odd, if not mentally disturbed patients, have been in our care so far, and sometimes it's a real hassle to deal with them. The more normal they seem at first, the more disturbing we found out they really were towards the end. That's why when the newest patient came in, patient number 335; most faculty members were suddenly on edge.

He was like a child that made you question more than twice if he really was a patient here. He didn't complain when given an order but did occasionally ask questions. It was almost like a lost child wandering inside an asylum. He just seemed too well behaved to be in a place like this. This was the reason that I was more determined to find out what their damage actually was so that I can help the other employees feel at ease.

In a private room, I started by asking both basic and personal questions about him. Depending on how he answers the following questions, I should be able to analyze him better.

Doc: Full name?

Patient: Curtis Rhodes

Doc: Age?

Patient: Sixteen

Doc: Race?

Patient: That's racist, but African-American, I guess.

It is prohibited that the staff gets chummy with the patients like this; supposedly, it distracts them from their work, or worse.

Doc: Any mental issues?

Patient: I'm slightly bipolar and I have A.D.H.D. I suppose there are other things that affect my mental health, but that’s really all you need to know for now.

Doc: I see. any hobbies?

Patient: I like to draw and write.

Doc: Interesting.

Patient: Sure it is.

It seems this boy comes with sarcastic remarks. I wouldn't be surprised if he came with some dark humor as well, but in the moment, I’m just asking random questions until I get some kind of lead. Only then will I ask the real questions.

In order to keep this experiment going, three nurses have agreed to vouch for me in case the other staff begins to catch on. These nurses are very loyal to me simply because they are relatives of mine and are all so young and naive.

Doc: Alright, we’re just about done here, just one more thing. Do you have a preferred name? A nickname, if you will.

Patient: Hmm. Some people call me Citrus, but I usually use the name Katisu when I'm online.

Doc: Kah-tuh-su?

Patient: It’s Japanese.

Doc: I see. Well, with that we're just about done here for now. Please follow the nurse and she'll take you to your room.

Patient: Right.

Doc: Enjoy your stay.

Patient: I won't!

Sigh. Okay, no lead yet, and he isn't as polite as he first appeared to be. He seems to be rather negative towards me if not other people as well, and by his online alias, I’d say he has an interest in the popular Japanese animation better known as anime. I may have to ask more questions to verify that theory I’m sure he won’t mind.

A nurse’s P.O.V _______________________________________________________

So this is patient number three-three-five. Why are people so on edge? He looks pretty normal from what I can tell. Maybe he's just a regular, and not mentally disturbed, like the rest. I kind of wish I could get a better look at him, though, and it's somewhat tempting not to look back, but that would be rude.

We walked further down the hallway. His room was at the very end. If I remember correctly, there was only one other patient in our records that stayed in this room. I wonder where he is right now. We walked past other employees and faculty. I noticed this odd doctor, but at the same time, I tried not to get distracted from my job as a nurse.

"Who was that?" the patient asked bluntly.

"Oh, I’m not sure. Another employee, I guess?" I replied.

“Oh... So, how much longer?" He moved on to another question.

"Oh, not much longer. I mean this room is special, from what I hear." I replied, fueling the conversation.

“What’s so special about it?" He suddenly sounded like he was on the offensive.

“Oh, it's just that no one’s been in this room before; you'll be the first," I reply with a little lie. By telling him this, I hope that he'll feel a little special.

“Oh…" he uttered. He sounded somewhat disappointed in that major fact.

We had finally made it to the room. Unlike the other doors, this one was made for a totally different purpose. The number 335 was labeled on the door in huge font.

“Well here it is, your room.” I introduced him

I just stood in silence. I soon grew nervous of his sharp gaze. He took a deep breath, and my nerve only grew.

“Is something wrong?” I uttered, reaching out of my comfort zone.

“Yeah... maybe you can tell me. WHY... MY DOOR... LOOKS LIKE THAT OF A PRISON CELL FOR AMERICA’S MOST WANTED!?!” his tone sounded like someone who was going to snap at me. It gave me a chill.

“I-i-i wouldn’t know anything about that, sorry.” my voice shrieked, speaking such a reply, preparing for him to snap at me. After all, he wouldn’t be the first.

“Alright then... can I look inside?” he uttered. At such a moment, he had me completely dumbfounded. I was sure he was going to yell at me as if he was my alcoholic father or something.

“U-uh, yeah, sure…” I uttered. I’m starting to think I might have been misjudging this new patient just a little. I typed in the numbers for his cell as I opened his door.

“Okay, here we are.” I uttered as he walked in.

“If you need anything, just ask, okay?” and like that, I attempted a hit and run until the patient requested something.

“Before you go,” he uttered, stopping me in my tracks,

“Could you get me 3 blank journals, some pencils, and a sharpener?” he requested. I was unsure as to why, but I did say I’d get him almost anything.

“I suppose, but I can’t give you a mechanical sharpener, you know?” I uttered in response.

“Hand-held is fine,” he replied. His back turned to me, and mine to his, as his right eye gazed at my left eye, our positions were almost symmetrical.

“Okay, then.” I gave my final reply as his door closed itself, as that is simply how the door functions, as I continued to walk the hall after finally parting ways. It always gets me stirred up when I open that door. I don’t know why I think I’m seeing those children who died in that room years ago, or so the rumor goes.

Patient #335’s POV


“Well, here I am. Heh, so this is an asylum? Doesn't seem like the brutal prison cell my mother told me it would be, it’s almost like my own private room. Thinking of it now, I can’t see how anyone could go insane just being cooped up in here, thus makes sense why people called my first creepypasta shit. Oh well.

“Seems like a nice place to get away from all the drama and bullshit called my life. Although visitors would still be nice…” I muttered, keeping myself busy with some small commentary to the other pros of staying in an asylum. The floors, walls, and ceiling had padded, soft cushioning. If not for the wooden table, chair, and metal bed, I’m sure this would be a great place for a fighting match.

“Anyway, I’m sure that nurse will be back so that I can draw and write. It’ll be a good way to pass the time.” I uttered. As I slid my fingers against the table something suddenly stopped me in my tracks. I turned my head then eventually my body. In the upper left corner, a camera that spies on me, its lens rotating from zooming in to zooming out.

Ch 1

A camera like this is used to keep an eye on people or to catch a spiritual presence, I can kind of tell from its infrared lens, from those many movies of paranoia. Of course, unlike me, those people are dead. Those idiots, making money off the dead like that.

“Come to think of it... didn’t the nurse say-”

{“It’s just that no one’s been in this room before, you'll be the first…”} The memory came flashing back to me as I gazed at the camera. The camera zoomed in and out once again.

“I’m starting to think the nurse fed me a candy-coated onion about this room…”

“And also that this room comes with... a very special... roommate…” I looked out of the corner of my eye to what seemed to be someone with me, but there was no one.

For now.