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It wasn't an easy job.

To be fair even if you didn't need to worry about flesh eating monsters invading the halls of the hospital it'd still be a rough job. Tending to the sick and injured was hardly for the weak, and why you were trusted with hands on care regarding the patients was beyond you— you were just an intern. The most you should have been tasked with was checking people in and making sure that they really were who they said they were. Maybe standing off to the side to observe how things worked around here, pass over something when it was needed. Not administering pills for headaches— that was the more mild of your forced upon tasks— and operating on the sick. The fact no one has died yet was a miracle in of itself. Truthfully there was no way any of this could— or should— be legal.

But it paid decent, it kept the lights on at home. So you would cope through the horrors for the time being, and hope that you wouldn't some day after seeing something you weren't meant to see.

You said that jokingly, but…

At least the insurance was good— great actually, and you were permitted to use some of the medical supplies to tend to any wounds you'd accumulate from whatever managed to slip past security— it rarely happened these days now that you had been working for a few months but sometimes… sometimes there was still something that seeped through the cracks.

This past Monday it was a snaggle toothed monster with pits for eyes that was smart enough to run in during the midst of an attack's aftermath. Waited just long enough to be sent to their room and treated, and quiet enough to sneak up on you as you tended to another patient. Sunk those crooked teeth into the still dully throbbing flesh of your forearm.

It wasn't so bad, now that it was Saturday. But it still ached when you knocked into something. You had taken advantage of the fact that it was a slow week asides from the attack.

The visitors could learn a thing or two about patience, though.

You hadn't been away from the desk long, but the bell had been going off for the past couple of minutes— and the high ring of the thing was steadily growing in frequency. In truth you were beginning to grow agitated. It took far too much to keep it from showing on your face— you liked to think that since the current patient— Ron, from accounting… you always thought it was a little odd that he felt the need to specify his occupation— didn't say anything about the tightness in your jaw or the scrunch in your brow that you did a halfway decent job to look unbothered and collected.

"I feel like I see you every couple of weeks… You really should keep a better eye on your sugar levels, Ron." Had the patient been a fresher face you don't think you would have thought to speak so casually. Had it been anyone else you would have feared the threat of being reported too much to say anything more than the diagnosis and what care had to be administered.

The rabbit hardly was one for conversation. You wondered if it was just because of the nature of his visits, or if he was just like that. Odds are you would never find out, and you'd just have to make peace with that.

"I try my best. I'm not skipping meals as often as I used to, if that's any consultation." He didn't offer a smile, his voice remained just as formal as it always did even as exhaustion laced through his words. His work was draining, that much you've managed to gather. That was something the both of you could relate over.

"That's good. Keep that up, maybe we can find something long term to keep you out of here— as much as I enjoy your company I'd rather… you not be a consistent patient. For your own health, of course."

And you meant it.

Ron was just one of the consistent faces you'd see turn up to the check in counter— it had been a few weeks since you had seen Ratthew poke his head over the edge.

You hoped he was alright.

At least with Barney he had left no room to debate if he'd come back; though you were still left unsure about if you'd welcome him back with open arms should he decide to leech off of your coffee maker. You guess the second machine he had left behind as a parting gift would make things a bit speedier. He bought the thing, anyway— you think so— he didn't strike you as the thief type. Polite enough. Being a serial killer aside obviously.

Then there was… the thing.

Whatever it was called— if it had a name— was unknown to you and it only seemed to blip out of the corner of your eye whenever you looked up too fast. The first couple of times you had thought the long nights were starting to take their toll on you. The kind of thing that tends to happen when you're cooped up in a creepy building all night, alone for the most part. Only the nurse who occasionally unlocked the store for you served as company; someone you could try to actually talk to about the anomalies.

Emphasis on try. She was already checked out and left unswayed by the happenings in the hospital. You've never seen someone look so done and over it in your entire life. It didn't take long for the attempted conversation to drop off into near nothingness— all that remained being an instinctual desire to thank her for providing supplies.

When you asked about the thing in the hallway she just dismissed you. The most you got was to not look the thing in the eyes.

Not that you ever got the chance to actually do so before it darted around the corner. It didn't even show up on the camera, and it seemed to vanish over your shoulder when you had enough reflex to snap your stare to the floor. It's black legs would stand still in the edge of your vision as you stepped by, a respectful distance away in case it decided to make a grab for you, and… when you walked back down the hall to return to the check in counter, it would be gone.

Just for it to be back in the edge of your vision right where it had been before. Like it was waiting for you to follow the patients to their rooms.

The entire thing was creepy.

But you've seen it every now and then over the past couple of months. If it wanted to hurt you, it would have. Everything else that simply existed in the hallway wasn't afraid to give chase.

Except that thing.

You swear it was showing up more frequently. Not that you could prove it, the thing didn't show up in security recordings.

"I take it you hurt yourself?" Ron's sudden words brought you back to the moment. Even if his tired eyes remained lidded, the frown tugging at the corner of his mouth revealed his concern; no matter how vague. "At least it doesn't look too bad."

Instinctively your hand flew up to the exposed bandages on your arm— your typical coat abandoned for the moment to make access easier for when you had to tend to the bite. Funny how when someone brought up the presence of a wound, the injured's first reaction was to touch it. Or maybe you were just wired weird— "it's nothing too major, at the rate it's healing I should be able to ditch the bandages by next week. If not sooner…" slowly your fingers dragged from the wrapping.

They could be changed. Should be.

The silence settled back between you and Ron— there was only so much that the two of you talked about. Somehow it was more awkward with what little small talk the two of you engaged in, than the near total silence that came with every other patient. Pure professionalism offered different expectations.

Whether you'd call Ron a friend or not though…

"I'll leave you here for a little while, gather your things. I'll be back at the counter… on account of…" You trailed off. Ron was understanding enough, he never said anything bad about how long it took you to get back to him. Unlike nearly everyone else who tried to check in.

"By all means, don't let me keep you. I know you're busy." Ron's ears dangled as he sat up in bed, unopened bottle of maple syrup clutched in his blue hand and ready to be taken. You trusted him enough to leave him to actually take it. Anyone else you would have lingered around for a little while longer.

It was a good way to catch a monster that had managed to sneak under your radar.

The bell at the counter continued to ring through the air as your feet quickly closed the distance between Ron's room and the end of the hall. You could only hope that you were fast enough to keep whatever scolding that'd be slung your way too a minimum—

"I'm sorry! Sorry for the wait! It's just me tonight—" As it was every night for the past couple of weeks. There had been instances where there was a second intern. They never lasted long, one day they'd simply… leave. Maybe they were assigned a different shift— it wasn't like you were around for every hour of the day. Or maybe they found somewhere else to work—

There was no one at the counter when you finally rounded the corner at the end of the hall. Not a soul sat in the lobby either, the double doored entrance completely still. Even then, the chime would have ratted out anyone who thought it'd be funny to pull a prank at a hospital of all places.

The lobby was completely still and empty. Even the bell at the counter was completely still, it's shiny metal dome frozen under the buzzing florescent lights spaced through the ceiling. Despite that the remnants of it's ring rattled in your skull— you refused to believe you had imagined it all.

The tip of your tongue dampened your lips to no avail— one would think something as simple as chap stick was readily available in the hospital. There was sure to be some somewhere. If not you could just start bringing your own—

"Hello?" The tip of your shoe broke past the hallways threshold. It wasn't like you were expecting anyone to say anything in response. Ron was the only conscious patient currently checked in, anyone else under your care were currently resting in their beds.

Had you let in an anomaly?

No… what purpose would it have to spam the bell? They never did that before— or maybe they were adapting and changing their tactics. Luring unsuspecting victims sounded like something those creeps would do.

"Hello?" You tried again.

No response.

Your legs carried you closer to the counter—

"Hell— OH!" It was a good thing you decided against stopping to grab some painkillers from the hallway cabinets (that was another odd thing about the hospital now that you thought about it… what would stop a visitor from ravaging the stores?), because you were sure to instinctively chuck the bottle of pills at the spindly figure clinging to the corner— who only seemed to exist for a brief flash before it was gone.

It didn't matter how many times you encountered the figure. The shot of pure animalistic terror would always stab through your chest like a bullet.

You were a dignified animal with a job and responsibilities. You were better than sinking into the feral instincts that kept your kind alive long enough to evolve opposable thumbs.

The breath between your teeth regained itself before it could fully warp into a hiss, instead opting to unravel into a loose huff. It wasn't the worst thing to happen but it wasn't at all desirable, in fact you'd much rather prefer not getting a heart attack in the middle of your shift.

A part of you wondered if Ron would drag you to one of the rooms when he came to check out, if you were to collapse from sudden heart failure. Not that he would know how to treat that. Maybe he could get the nurse to come out of wherever she held herself up at—

"My fault, really—" You muttered to no one in particular as your hand— which you just realized had come to clutch the front of your work top— released itself from your shirt. With everything going on, you really should have been more mindful of the things going on. Besides that shadow wasn't the only thing you had to avoid looking at. That could have been avoidable had you just kept your eyes to the floor.

At least there weren't any patients coming in at the moment. A moment to recover was greatly appreciated, and you could go for a cup of coffee.

That was something to consider in the future, bringing in your own mix ins. Black coffee got the job done but the bitterness got a bit grating after a while…

The train of thought slowed to a halt as your eyes fixed on the two coffee makers on the counter. Both empty— you hadn't set the older one to make a new pot while you worked, because the newer one Barney had left behind for you still had part of a fresh pot. The pot should have still had some left inside it; Ron had checked in before you could polish the remainder of it off.

The coffee pot was empty.

It wasn't that you had forgotten, the glass side of the pot was still warm— emptied recently.

"If the anomalies are stealing the coffee now…" You muttered under your breath as the distance between you and the desk closed. It was fine. Another pot could be made, it was no big deal. You'd be able to cope for a few minutes while the pot refilled itself. You'd have to make more anyway.

But as you went to grab your usual mug, you found that it wasn't where you had left it on the desk.

"And they're stealing mugs?"

You spun on your heel— there were spares; in a box under one of the check in desks. You had been intending to unpack them anyway from the box they'd come in. You could spruce up the makeshift coffee bar, maybe install a rack if you'd be permitted to hang the mugs.

Your body paused mid swivel.

At the check in counter was your mug, near the bell— pushed closer to the wall. Of course you didn't, not with the angle you were walking from. Steam curled from the top, the bitter smell of still fresh coffee hitting your nose like a brick— a welcome one, given that it was the main thing keeping you from wanting to bang your head against the wall out of frustration.

But you hadn't poured it. You knew that for a fact.

The bottom of the mug dragged across the counter as you pulled it towards you. It smelled like plain black coffee, and it looked completely normal. An experimental sip— after lightly blowing of course— proved that it tasted just like the dozens of other cups you've drank over the past week. With a clink the glass settled back onto the counter, pushed out of the way as you dipped your head out of the check in window. For a brief moment the thought of the shutters slamming down on your neck passed, before it shoved itself to the back of your mind.

The only previous sign of life in the lobby was the shadow.

But what purpose would it have to refill your mug?

What else could have done it? You didn't recall the door dinging, and you explicitly remember mentioning the coffee to Ron when he had checked in earlier— he had asked about the second coffee maker.

"I'm saving the last cup for later," until after you made a second pot. An old habit to reserve at least a cup to pass off to Barney should he decide to return.

It was a little silly— even if the thing peeking around the corners wasn't the one responsible— but your lips were already working themselves into the motion. Something instinctive, something polite enough even if there was no one around to respond;

"Thank you—" You guess. It felt just as silly as it looked, and you bit your tongue as your head drew back into the office; safe from any possible deathtrap if the shutter decided it wanted to be a guillotine.