It’s safe to assume that no single person within the atmosphere’s grip likes their job. There are so many different occupations in the world: hand on jobs, office jobs, and corporate jobs. The citizens that were lucky enough to obtain the title of ‘head of office’ can actually claim that they semi-enjoy their jobs, but they only show their faces around the offices to instill fear upon the unlucky participant of their choosing. Careers and jobs come with different titles and tasks that one must choose to pursue; even if they really do not want to be in the building, anyone with a functioning brain can tell you that you need an occupation to make it in this cold, crazy world.

The world just seemed too demanding now; it all just moved way too fast for some people. Bright neon lights swirled behind closed lids as they laid in the bed assigned to him. He clicked his heels lightly at the end of the bed, humming his favorite tune lightly to himself. The melodic rhythm escaped his mouth in fragments of sound; the noise made it frequently to his eardrums, making the smirk on his face thicken and grow with each passing second. This was the only way for him to pass the time, because they never let him outside. These cold, white walls were his own personal prison, and he was going to have to stay here until they deemed him ‘fit’ to approach the outside world with an open mind.

This building was going to drive him insane. Which was funny, because he had much of the staff here convinced that he was mentally unstable to begin with. Thoughts and temptation swirled around in his brain constantly, wanting him to create such heinous and criminal acts that he oh so craved. Freedom was one of these temptational risks that his mind played around with from time to time. However, freedom was unobtainable at this point, because that would mean escape. The thought of escape had crossed his mind plenty of times before, but he never had the means and control to actually act upon these hints and notions.  No, he never had the strength to contain himself.

The thought of escape excited him. He felt his mouth moisten out of sheer delight as the image of him running across the hospital’s large, green field. He licked his lips in a circular motion, trying to come up with a taste and flavor that described his passion. Was freedom sweet like his favorite treat?

If freedom was sweet, then how would he achieve it? He could easily walk out of these doors and across the yard, and then he would be basking in the sweet, warm sunlight that he missed. Sunlight would warm his skin, kissing his skin delicately, begging for him to come out and play. There, in his isolation chamber, he would peek out his window occasionally, running his hands down the glass of the window pane, begging to be released. Yes, sunlight would make freedom sweet.

But what if freedom was bitter? Bitter like the terrible taste of hot, black coffee that his father used to drink every single morning while he read the newspaper. Bitter like the expression that would cross his face every single time he looked at his father with sheer rage. Bitter like the metal that crossed his tongue as he planned his attack that day. Bitter, the emotion that he held as he plunged the knife deep into his father’s chest over and over again, just to finally end his life. Bitter like the blood that coated the inside of his mouth as he licked the gooey, warm, red blood off of the blade that he used to commit the act in the first place. Bitter as his heart felt after he committed such an awful crime…

He didn’t want freedom to taste bitter. Not at all, actually. He wanted freedom to be wonderful. He opened the door to his cell; they let him roam within reason within the hospital. He smiled sweetly at the nurse, who gave him a subtle nod. He clutched an item within his pocket, and then continued to roam down the hallway as if he owned the entire mental hospital. “Good evening, Janice.”

“Derek, nice to see you.” Dr. Janice Taylor was always one of his favorites within the ward. Dr. Taylor was never judgemental; she always listened to what you had to say and when and how you had to say it to her. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be out of your room? I thought everyone was put to bed over an hour ago,” She seemed a bit hesitant towards his act of kindness. “I would hate for you to be in isolation for another week.”

“I couldn’t sleep very well,” He shrugged, trying to keep his favorite little object concealed at all times. “Say, Dr. Taylor, do you want to go for a stroll? It’s been a while since I’ve been outside.” He glanced over at her, flashing her the largest smile that his system allowed him to produce. “If I’m with a doctor or nurse, I’m allowed outside.”

Dr. Taylor wasn’t the person he was after. No, he wasn’t going to share much affection with this woman. He had another target of love in mind: Dr. Cole. Dr. Cole with her beautiful, long, brown locks would make her rounds every single morning at seven am sharp; Dr. Cole was never late, she was always there at seven in the morning, every single day of the week. He had her routine down: She would arrive at the hospital at exactly six forty-five every single morning, grab coffee from the lobby and add only one teaspoon of sugar, and then by seven she was up in his hallway.

From there she would go to lunch between the hours of twelve and two, and finally leave the hospital around seven in the evening. However, today they had made her stay later; a new patient was not adjusting correctly to the lifestyle of being isolated. It was no nine thirty, and she was already out  the door. He needed to tell her how much he loved her. She needed to hear it from him, she needed--

“Derek? I thought I put you in your room an hour ago.” Dr. Cole came up to him angrily, both of her hands on her curvaceous hips that he would love to pin down. All he wanted to do was make love to her, if only once. He wanted to take his pale hands and run them all over her caramel colored skin, if only once. “You know you’re not supposed to leave the ward.”

“I-I…” He stammered, trying to find some excuse that she would buy at this point. “I guess I just wanted to see you before you headed home. I like you, Dr. Cole.” Oh, he was so close! All he needed to do was tell her the last part of that sentence, and she would have been his. “I-I mean, I love--”

“I like you too, Derek. But I think I’d like you better if you actually listened to me for once in your life.” She let out a quick sigh, and turned towards Dr. Taylor. “How much melatonin did you give him this evening?”

Dr. Taylor flipped through her organized clipboard, trying to find the correct dosage. She quickly grabbed her glasses from ontop of her head, and put them on the bridge of her nose. “15 milligrams, as we discussed earlier.”

Dr. Cole pursed her plump lips. “We’ll have to discuss a higher dosage in the morning. It doesn’t seem to be working like it used to.”

It wasn’t working because he tongued his meds at night and traded them with the other people in his ward. He traded all of those sleeping pills for this nice little object that he had tucked away in his pocket. “Dr. Taylor, do you want someone to walk you to your car?”

Dr. Taylor glanced over to Dr. Cole, who shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll have an attendant standing by the doors to make sure that he comes back.” The pale doctor walked over to him and smiled sweetly. “You’re lucky that we’re even letting you do this, you know?”

The three of them made their way out of the doors and into the main hall of the building. The main hall was where all of the doctors and nurses hung out in the morning and complained about patients. (He knew that’s what they were doing, he could hear them through all of the vents through the walls.) As Dr. Cole fished out a set of keys from her purse, Dr. Taylor motioned for two armed guards to stand watch at the door for a moment.

The moonlight spread across the lawn, illuminating all of the creatures of the night. He stopped for a moment, taking it all in: he was never going to get this type of treatment ever again. “What a beautiful night it is.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Dr. Cole opened the door to her blue Prius, and slid in. She turned the key in the ignition, turning the car completely on. She rolled down the window. “Dr. Taylor, make sure that he gets back safely. I have a fiance and a dog to get home to.” Dr. Cole didn’t even bother to roll up her window as she sped out of the parking lot, leaving Derek and Dr. Taylor in the darkness alone.

“She seemed to be in a hurry…” Dr. Taylor motioned for the guards to keep a watch out. “Okay, Derek, it’s time for you to--”

“Get in the car.” He retrieved the item from his pocket. It wasn’t his favorite item, but it did get the job done when he needed it. Admittedly, he would have preferred a blade, but he had to take what he could get. “Didn’t you hear me? I said get in the d*** car.” He pressed the gun to her back, urging her on. “Go on, get in!”

“Derek! What are you doing?” She turned around and extended her arm, trying to get the gun out of his hand. “Where did you get that gun? Derek!” The bullet tore through her chest, splattering blood all over the driver’s door of her car. Her body crumpled towards the ground, lifeless. Her eyes were now hollowed, not containing an ounce of fighting life.

“Didn’t I tell you to get in the car?” He turned his body towards the two guards, and pointed the gun towards them as well. “I love Dr. Cole, and nothing will get in my way.” Bringing the gun to a more reasonable angle, he pulled the trigger twice. Two bodies fell to the ground, bleeding from one single bullet hole. He always knew that he was a good shot. Bending down towards the ground, he extracted the keys from the dead doctor’s purse, and got into the car. “Now, all I have to do is find her.”

-------------

Dr. Cole even had to admit to herself that she was speeding at this point. All she wanted to do was go home to her fiance Simon and their dog and enjoy a wonderful evening. Perhaps they could sit on the balcony and eat leftover chinese food tonight. The moon was especially beautiful this evening; its full, rich color lit up the night sky, complimenting the stars near it. Her brown eyes glanced down at her speedometer for a moment, trying to see how hard she was pressing on the gas. 60 in a 45? She needed to calm down for a minute.

There was nothing wrong with being a little bit spooked, she supposed. However, there had been nothing wrong with the evening. She had gone to work, she had completed all of her rounds, and now she was going home. There was nothing wrong with this evening. She eased on the brakes, coming up to a red light. She could wait a couple more seconds before heading completely home, she guessed. Her knuckles gripped on the steering wheel as she watched Dr. Taylor’s car pull up behind her. She smiled nervously, and waved at her fellow co worker.

However, her co worker’s white smile didn’t flashback at her. Instead, she was greeted by a man covered in what seemed like a large amount of blood who was holding a gun. He slowly brought the gun up to a good angle, and smiled sweetly. He mouthed the words, ‘I love you’ quickly.

Dr. Cole quickly grabbed her cell phone, and dialed 9-1-1 frantically. “Come on, come on, come on!” She screamed, hearing the dial tone on the other line. “F****** pick up!”

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“This is Dr. Cole, I work at a mental hospital .There’s a man behind me with a gun. He has it aimed towards me.”

“Is he in the vehicle with you, ma'am?”

“No! He’s in the car behind me. We’re stopped at a red light.”

“Can you see what he looks like? I need you to stay calm for me.”

Staying calm wasn’t going to keep her alive for much longer. She quinted in the rearview mirror for a moment, trying to get a good look at his face. He had such pale skin, and demented green eyes. His hair was shaggy and dark brown, the bags under his eyes seemed to stretch for miles… “It’s Derek Fischer, patient number 00240 at McKlellan’s State Hospital.”

“So it’s a mental patient escapee?” The line went silent for a moment, but Dr. Cole could still hear the operator typing information into a computer. “Where are you located, Dr. Cole? And where are you headed?”

She looked out the window, trying to find a street sign. She also glanced up to see that the light was still painfully red. “I’m at the corner of Breezewood and Sycamore. I’m heading home after a long shift.”

“We just got a call about three dead bodies at McKlellan. A state trooper will be in the area soon.”

“I don’t have much--” A piercing pain ripped through the back of her skull, blurring her vision. She dropped the phone that was clenched so tightly within her grasp; it fell to the floor. Blood coated the windshield and steering wheel, making the inside of her car seem like a crime scene in the making.

“Dr. Cole? Are you still there? Hello?”

“I told you, nobody could have her but me…” He picked up the cell phone and put it into his pocket. “No one but me…”