Sally’s Bedside Manner

— by Alan Wake

When I stepped out of the car I felt like I’d gone into a time warp. That is to say, the building was old and not abandoned like I’d been led to believe. It was well cared for, and still functioning based on a couple of patients and medical staff that I saw wandering around by the green house. The actual facility looked like I’d wandered into a film production of the Bell Jar, as if it hadn’t seen any administration or observational staff in decades, The sign even still said “Croatia Prenn Asylum” and it looked so foreboding I couldn’t stop myself from doing a cross across my chest as I walked up the stone steps. The wind was loud and heavy, the trees and plants looking as if they’d be uprooted any minute now. When I went to open the door, it swung open before I could touch it revealing a thin, tall woman with red hair in a bun with wisps falling forward. Her eyelids were wrinkled with dark bruises beneath them, but my focus was on her clothes. She wore an immaculate clean nurses uniform that hadn’t been used since the Allies marched on Normandy.

“Can I help you?” She asked, her voice was reedy with there was an odd echo to it. As if she was hollow on the inside, a completely empty shell of her former self.

“Defective Casey,” I pulled out my badge and held it up, sometimes it was a good way to assert dominance but the nurse didn’t so much as blink. “We’ve had some disappearances and they were last seen here.” A place which should be closed down, I thought.

“I don’t know anything about that but you’re welcome to look around.” She stepped back in one smooth movement, too smooth in hindsight. “I’m Nurse Sally Smithson,” she added as I entered the building.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Smithson,” I responded instinctively, I looked up and down at the oddly circular building. The tiles on the floor and ceiling were a sort of grey that often came with old age but otherwise seemed well kept, no cracks or anything else. The doors, walls and notice boards were the same - as if they hadn’t been touched even by dust in almost a century. This image was helped by the information about typhoid and a poster encouraging people to eat the whole of the rhubarb plant. That campaign was at least eighty years old, off the top of my head anyway. “I have some questions to ask if that’s okay.” Sally stared at me, she tilted her head and a wide smile spread across her face - a sight which felt like a hand and grabbed my throat and squeezed until I choked.

“Of course, would you like to take a seat in reception? We can speak there. In fact…” She paused as if she was trying to remember how to appear more human. “Why don’t I bring you a coffee?” She offered, her voice wavering slightly as her eyes seemed to shift to the left, staring intently before looming back at me and her smile increasing to show the tips of her teeth.

“That’d be great. Black, no sugar,” I asked as I looked around me to see a slight ajar door next to the entrance. The black letters were peeling from it and more resembled “ECEPT ON”, but I entered all the same, sitting down on a metal chair that screeched against the floor. Before I’d gotten settled I heard the door slam suddenly which threw me, I looked up to see Sally approaching me with a tray in her hands. There were two coffees and a plate of cookies, that was… far too quick.

“Thanks,” I muttered as Sally put the tray down in front of me, I looked at it with raised eyebrows. I’d asked for black but it looked like it had a whole udder’s worth of milk in there. She sat down opposite me at the desk, a false smile on her face and tilted her head to the right.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what brings you here, Detective Casey,” Sally said a little too sweetly, I suppressed a grimace as I sipped at the coffee. Sugar as well, how could she fuck it up that badly? I hated the sweetness and the creaminess of milk, but what caught my attention was an odd metallic taste that poked through. “Coffee not to your liking, Detective?” Sally didn’t lie very well, her smile wasn’t convincing either… but not in the usual way. I’d seen plenty of suspects lie their asses off but I knew instinctively that this was different.

“It’s fine,” I lied, I got to my feet. “Sorry before we start the interview, could I use the restroom? Think my breakfast is disagreeing with me.”

“I- Yes, let me-” Sally began standing up, I raised a hand in dismissal.

“No need, I saw it on my way in.” I walked out, starting to already feel a little off, quickly found the bathroom as the vertigo hit. I got on my knees in the booth and stuck two fingers down my throat. It took a moment of jabbing at my uvula before the bile started to come out, thankfully it wasn’t too much noise, the wind against the old windows definitely drowned it out. When I looked into the toilet bowl I saw streaks of blood and white powder, my tongue tasted as if I’d been sucking on iron. I stood up and went to the sink, running the water and bending over to put my mouth at the tap to swirl it around my mouth and spit out.

“Are you alright, detective?” A voice asked, Sally’s voice to be specific. I tensed and stood up, turning slowly and stepping away from the sink. To be blunt, in that moment I felt like I was about to shit the entire contents of my stomach. It was as if my intestines were ice cold water and they needed to escape through my asshole. I never heard the door, I’ve got keen senses after years on the force and I swore to Jesus, Mary, God, and all the saints in heaven I didn’t hear the fucking door. I turned around and swallowed, I saw her - standing directly in front of me was Sally Smithson. She still had the sickly smile, except now her uniform had become tattered and grey. She’d grown paler and thinner, her cheekbones pressing against her skin angrily as in her hand she held a blood stained bone saw.

“Your first mistake was using arsenic,” I said suddenly, backing away. “Poisoning is most effective in small amounts over time, one big dose and the body will get sick but that’s it.” My hand slipped behind my coat and into my holster. “Your second was not cutting me up when my back was turned.” In one quick movement I unsheathed my gun and shot her arm. It hit her. It had to have hit her... But she didn’t move. In fact since she spoke she hadn’t moved even a step, she hadn’t shifted, maybe she didn’t even blink. The bullet hit her directly in her arm, I saw the hole but there was no blood, she didn’t scream or stumble. She stood there and stared at me. The next thing I knew, she rushed forward letting out a high pitched scream that I only just avoided. I dove to the right, smacking my head against the stall door. I crawled to the exit, and tried not to think about the bullet that had been lodged in the wall.