The doctor stops at the door number 267. He shakes out his keys from his white coat and proceeds to open the door. It slides open noiselessly. Eery ever since he’s been here for three years now he hasn’t got used to the ‘noisy silence’ inside the asylum. He wouldn’t be surprised if some people got insane here instead of the more normal scenario whereby people’s insanity led them here.
The door shuts close behind him. He looks around the room. White walls, shining bright, white bedclothes and the figure convulsing incessantly on the bed. His patient. He administers the injections one after the other. They are fast working. In minutes her breathing slows, the trashing reduces before coming to a complete stop as the sedatives work their way through her circulatory system. She doesn’t immediately go to sleep though. The doctor reminds himself to increase the dosage. She’s developing some resistance.
Looking at her you wouldn’t think she’s mad. She’s homely, quite good to look at. Some would say beautiful and the doctor would too if it wasn’t for the seriousness of his work. And her condition. She is schizophrenic. She has a split personality. She controls her breathing, focusing her attention on the doctor’s face. She stares unblinking as she regulates how she breathes. The doctor if unnerved by the burning gaze does not show it. ‘Fascinating,’ he thinks. She is slowing down the effects of the drugs by sheer will power. And she is succeeding.
‘Doctor how are you today,’ she asks.
‘I am totally fine. It is you I am worried about,’ The doctor responds.
‘As you can see am quite okay,’ She spreads her arms outwards over the bed.
‘Any pain? Headaches?’
‘Yes. A little. Around my temples. I didn’t sleep very well.’
‘Very well. I recommend you sleep at least eight hours from today.’
‘I fear I have insomnia.’
‘If that is the case then some sleep inducers will help you catch some sleep.’
‘Anything you say doctor.’
She continues to study his face. It is beginning to disturb him. She looks at him like he is the object of some insane fascination- a childhood toy she always hoped for. Poor her. She will always be like this, not knowing that it is her who has the problem. Not him. But she doesn’t understand that and so she keeps staring. The doctor’s time is up. He retreats and The engineer comes forward. The engineer wants things fixed. If only The doctor and The teacher were cooperative.
Her face slowly swims to The Engineer’s gaze. She smiles at him. She likes him- he’s almost sure of that.
‘I hope the Doctor didn’t misbehave while I was away doctor.’
‘He didn’t. He tried to treat me as usual.’
‘Something needs to be fixed. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’
Patient 267 convulses yet again and The teacher comes forth. He looks at her face, and like the Engineer he understands he’s the one who is the patient.
‘Hello there. It’s The teacher, isn’t it?’ she asks.
‘Yes. You’re learning.’
She administers yet another doze for the man now going by the name The teacher- patient 267. On the way out she notices something she’s never seen for the five years she’s been working here. The frame of the door is going loose. She reminds herself to inform management. The door needs to be fixed. She shrugs.
‘Guess the Engineer was right.’
Unreliable Narrator 