"If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up."

— Hunter S. Thompson

/ / e v e l y n / / 

"Annabelle?" Dr. Sanchez enters the room before me and I continue to stand in the doorway. I feel uncomfortable going back in there. From now on, though, I will have to be comfortable. Annabelle is my patient now and Louis is now Dr. Sanchez's patient. "Annabelle, I have wonderful news for you." There is not a reply. I remember Dr. Sanchez saying something about me getting Annabelle to talk. Am I the first person she has ever spoken to other than Dr. Sanchez? "Dr. Foster, please come in here." I step into the room to find Annabelle laying down on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. Just like everything else in the room, her bed is white as well. 

"Hello again, Annabelle." I say and she looks in our direction.

"You're back," she says, sitting up on her elbows. "I...I thought you were only visiting."

I shrug, "I really like it here." She smiles for the first time and I notice a white line going across all of her teeth. I lean towards Dr. Sanchez, "Did she have braces before?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," she replies as if it is a bad thing. "We ordered for her to have them taken off. She tried bringing harm to herself through the braces."

"How is that possible?" I ask.

"She tried to rip them off," she explains. "Oh, it was horrible. There was blood everywhere." I shudder at the thought of Annabelle attempting to rip her braces off. "She's gotten much better, though."

"She barely spoke to me."

"Ah, but at least she talked. It isn't much, but it's a start," she smiles. "With you being a new face around here, I have high hopes for her future. Please don't mess this up. Annabelle has come so far in so little time. If one thing messes her up, she'll have to start all over."

"What do I do?" I ask.

"Ask her questions. Here," she hands me a clipboard with questions on them. "You ask her these every day, okay?" I nod. "And if anything goes wrong, there is a panic button over there against the wall." I look and see a big, red button on the wall with the word 'PANIC' on it in bold, white letters.

"What about Annabelle?" I question. "Has she ever pressed the button?"

"Patients aren't allowed to press the panic button. But to answer your question, yes, Annabelle has pressed the panic button several times when she first arrived at the institute," she explains. "Fortunately, she has learned to not press the button unless being told to do so." I look back at my new patient and she's no longer looking at me. She's laying down on the bed again and looking up at the ceiling.

"Is this all she does?" I ask Dr. Sanchez.

She nods, "It is." I frown. I want a patient who is out there and who is different from everyone else. I want a patient like Louis. A patient that does something you will never expect. "I'd better get going before Louis wakes up. Be careful what you say to her. One wrong word will set off the trigger."

"Trigger?" I ask. "What trigger?"

"The trigger in her mind," she informs me. "If it goes off, she'll never be the same. It's extremely hard to bring her back to reality once the trigger as been set off."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Never," I repeat and look over at Annabelle. She now has one arm up in the air and she's talking to herself. I don't understand what she's saying but I see her lips moving. Dr. Sanchez pats me on the back and slowly leaves the room. I look down at the questions on the paper and walk across the room. "Annabelle, can I sit down on your bed?" Just as I'm about to sit down, she gasps and gets up from the bed. She leans against the wall and her breathing quickens.

"Please don't touch me," she begs.

My eyebrows rise, "I'm not going to touch you, Annabelle. I only have a few questions for—"

"They all do," she whispers. "None of them are good."

"What do you—"

"They are all bad!"

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" I ask with my voice full of concern. "It's all going to be all right."

"You're just like them! They all are! They're all the same!"

Her eyes are wide with fear and her blonde hair looks almost nonexistent against the whiteness in the background. I watch her carefully and I notice she's shaking. My hands tighten on the clipboard and I nibble on the inside of my cheek. What the hell? I'm not prepared for this. Dr. Sanchez didn't tell me much to prepare myself for her. I'm a lost puppy and Annabelle has all of the information I need in that brain of hers. 

"I'll be right back, Annabelle. I promise" I say and she does not nod or say anything. I quickly exit the room to see Dr. Sanchez standing in front of the elevator. The doors open and she is about to step inside. "Dr. Sanchez!" She looks in my direction and her eyes widen. I jog toward her.

"Dr. Foster, what on Earth are you doing? You're supposed to be in there with Annabelle."

"Is there something else you need to tell me?" I ask, catching my breath. 

"Something else? I told you everything you need to know about Annabelle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on my new patient before he gets out of control again," she tries to get into the elevator but I step in front of her.

"Has anyone ever touched her before?"

"Why would you ask me such a thing?"

I sigh, "She didn't want me to sit on her bed because she was afraid I would touch her. I asked her why I would do that and she told me they all do and that none of them are good." Dr. Sanchez looks down at the floor. "Did something happen in her past that I need to know about?"

"You've already seen and heard enough for one day, Dr. Foster. Please, go back in there and spend some time with Annabelle. I don't think it is wise for you to know everything about her past today. Later on, however, I will fill you in on everything. Once you ask her those questions and write down her answers, you are free to leave her room. But until then, you have to stay in there."

I blink. That isn't the response I'm looking for. I simply turn around and clutch the clipboard to my chest as I make my way back to Annabelle's bedroom. I knock on the door before entering and when I see her, she's covering her ears with her hands. My shoulders drop. I'd completely forgotten about her sensitive ears. I also notice she's still leaning against the wall. "Annabelle, can you please sit down?"

"No," she says.

"I'll have a seat on the floor if that makes you more comfortable." I say, looking around to see if there are any other chairs for me to sit in. There is only her bed and she does not want me anywhere near her. When I settle down on the floor, Annabelle watches me with careful eyes. I quickly look away. I don't know if she's like Andy at all. Does she care if people look at her? I remember Dr. Sanchez saying not to look at her and I assume she does care if people look at her.

"I want Dr. Sanchez," she demands. "I want Dr. Sanchez now."

"I'll find Dr. Sanchez once we're done, okay?" I lie and the words flow out of my mouth so easily.

Annabelle bites down on her bottom lip and scratches the top of her head. She's debating whether or not she should sit down on her bed. I sit the clipboard on my lap and clear my throat. "How are you today, Annabelle?" She makes up her mind and sits on her bed where the pillows are. I don't blame her for trying to be as far away from me as possible. She barely knows me.

She examines her pale hands and does not answer the question.

I ask again, "How are you today, Annabelle?"

Still, she doesn't answer.

"Annabelle, do you plan to ever leave this institute?" I ask and she nods her head. "Well, by the looks of your charts, you're making very good progress."

She blinks quickly over and over again, "I...I know that."

"I'd like to say I'm very proud of you," I tell her and the corner of her mouth twitches upward into a smile. 

"I'm tired," she says and lays down on her bed.

I bite my bottom lip, "Annabelle, our session isn't over. You don't want to wait until we're finished before you take a nap?"

"Please get out," she begs.

"Annabelle, our session isn't over. If you could just—"

"Get out!" she yells before sitting up. A sinister smile spreads across her cracked lips and she leans forward a bit. "Or else I'll press the panic button."

I rise to my feet and walk towards the door. I place my hand on the handle and exhale. I wait to see if Annabelle is going to say anything and when she does not, I turn the doorknob and open the door. When I turn around to shut the door behind me, Annabelle's laying down again but this time, her eyes are closed. I shut the door back and she automatically sits up.

"I told you to get out."

I shake my head, "Do you want me to tell Dr. Sanchez how you're behaving?"

"Tell her," she hisses before crossing her arms across her chest. Her blonde hair covers half of her face and makes her look truly mad.

I ignore what she just said and sit back down on the floor, "Let's begin, shall we?" Annabelle mutters something under her breath but I ignore her. For me being the only person that she talks to, I had no idea she would be so...displeasing. "How are you today, Annabelle?" She examines her nails as if I am not talking to her at all. "Do you really want me to tell Dr. Sanchez what you're doing and what you're not doing?" She does not acknowledge me at all. "She isn't going to be too pleased once I tell her. I thought you wanted help, Annabelle."

She frowns, "I do."

"Are you going to cooperate, then?" I ask, standing to my feet.

"Yes!" she shrieks, catching me by surprise. "I'll participate and answer the questions like you want me to."

Her red cheeks are the only source of color in the room. I'm wearing a white blouse and a black pencil skirt. My top blends in perfectly with everything else in this room.

Instead of sitting down on the floor, I stand and write down Annabelle's answer. I clear my throat, "It says here that you've only been here for about a year?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to explain to me why you're here?" I ask her as I write down her previous answer. We both know why she's here but the question has to be asked. 

Annabelle sighs and looks away from me, "I'd rather not."

"We just had a discussion and you said you would cooperate." I say, my grip tightening on my black pen. It's pressed against the paper. Annabelle shakes her head and I say again, "I thought you were going to cooperate with me."

"I don't want to answer that question. Ask me another one. They'll get mad at me if I mention them. We all deserve our privacy." 

"And who are they?"

"I said I don't want to answer that question!"

The pen runs across the paper, creating a thick, black line. I groan with defeat as I stare down at the messed up sheet of paper. There isn't a way for me to write down the answers now. Annabelle sits back on her bed, resting her back against the headboard. "I think our session is going to have to be cut short for the day."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I murmur. I'm highly disappointed in how this turned out. "I'll see you again tomorrow, okay?"

"We'll see."

"All right," I whisper to mostly myself and hurry out of the room.

As I rush down the hallway, the pen drops from my hand. I don't bother to pick it up. My mind is racing. Stopping in front of the elevator, I press button for me to go down. I check my watch and it is almost noon. How can such small things happen in a huge amount of time?

The elevator doors open and I step inside. I look up at the roof and listen to the faint elevator music. I am surprised they even have music on these elevators. Just as the doors are about to close, a hand slips between the doors and they open back up. A tall, male with blonde hair steps into the elevator with me. He hums silently to himself as he presses the button leading to the floor he wishes to go to. Before he can catch me watching his every move, I look downward.

"Wonderful weather we're having, yeah?" he asks me and my eyes widen as he acknowledges my presence. 

I slowly look at him, "I don't see how it's wonderful. It's supposed to rain today and tomorrow evening."

His eyes are a nice shade of blue and I feel as if I'm drowning into an icy blue ocean. His hair's combed upward and he's wearing a pair of black slacks with a red shirt. It isn't tucked in and his tie matches his slacks. He looks a bit unorganized but it's never good to judge a person just by how they look. I'm sure this man's very organized. If he was not, he wouldn't be here. I'm certain they only hire the best or those who strive to become the best. Either way, this man's trying to have a conversation with me and he's slowly making me forget about my complete disaster with Annabelle.

He laughs, "Rainy weather at a mental institute is kind of ironic, don't you think?"

"I guess."

"It makes everything a bit more haunting. I kind of like the vibe. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I can't exactly say that I would."

"Never mind," he sighs. "I've never seen you around before. Nice face, by the way."

"I'm new." I say. "Today is my first day."

He leans back against the elevator wall, "Ah, I love the smell of newbies in the morning." I raise my eyebrows but make sure he cannot see me. It's no longer morning. It's noon...or five minutes after noon. "Do you know when you'll get your patient?"

"I already have my patient." I say. Why is he asking me all of this?

"Really? Who? I know all of the patients here. I sometimes sneak them a cookie during my lunch hour."

"Even the patients on the fourth floor?"

"Hell no," he says, roughly shaking his head to make his hair shake. "I'll get attacked by the guards up there." He points to the ceiling. "So, tell me. Who is your patient?"

"Annabelle."

"Annabelle? As in Dr. Sanchez's patient?"

My eyes meet his blue eyes, "She's my patient now. Louis is Dr. Sanchez's patient."

"That idiot is back?"

"Idiot?"

"Every time he goes back home, he's back a few weeks later," the man explains while shaking his head slowly.

"Do you know what he's suffering from?"

He shakes a finger at me, "Oh, no, newbie. You're not getting anything out of me. I don't give personal information about patients away to new peers. I have trust issues." 

"Can you at least tell me how you know what he's suffering from?"

"He's an open book. If you spend five minutes with him, you'll know what I'm talking about," he says and begins biting his thumb nail. The elevator comes to a stop and the man allows me to step off first. He turns left and I turn to my right. When he begins to whistle, I turn on my heels to follow him down the narrow hallway.

"What do you mean?" I ask, practically running to catch up to him.

He shakes his finger at me again, "I don't share these type of things with newbies."

"Please?" I beg. "I saw him come in this morning and he was covered in blood. I just want to know what could've possibly caused it. It was interesting and sad all at the same time."

"You're insane," he laughs. "Louis being interesting is an understatement. He is, by far, the craziest."

"How?" I nearly shout.

He smiles and stops to face me, "Come have a cup of coffee with me and I'll answer all of your questions."

It is my turn to shake my finger at him, "I'm a newbie, remember?"

"Not if you tell me your name."

"Evelyn Foster," I say as we step into a room. It is completely empty and I look right at the coffee maker. Now, my mouth is watering for it. I get off of work in five hours and I do not think I will make it without some caffeine.

"Evelyn?" he asks and I nod. "Huh. What an interesting name."

"What's yours?" I ask.

"That's a story for another day," he starts making the coffee.

"That's not fair. I told you my name."

"I suppose fair is fair," he mutters and extends his hand out to me. "I'm Niall."

I shake his hand and smile, "Well, Niall, I'm very pleased to meet you."

"No, darling, the pleasure is all mine."

And in that moment, I know the two of us are going to get along just fine.