Path of the Vampire forum

Doc returned to the Hospital just after sundown. He headed straight to the Hospital’s lock down unit. Checking in at the entrance to the Secure Unit, he checked the status of the patients being held. He saw that Minx had gotten out of surgery and was marked as stable. Passing through several metal detectors and a series of redundant locking doors, he found and then stood outside her unit. The door to her unit was a hefty metal door, with a small fifteen by fifteen centimeter window. He peered in through the small window. Her unit was a twelve by twelve room, bare walls painted in a soothing shade of pale yellow, with a toilet and chair as the only items to break the stark emptiness of the room apart from the patient herself.

Minx lay restrained on wheelable stainless steel gurney, with only a thin pad and crisp white sheet for comfort. Doc’s lips curved ever so slightly at the sight of her. He knew that once she regain full consciousness the reality of her situation would sink in. He didn’t want to miss that pivotal moment. However, for the moment, it suited his purposes to have her only semi lucid. Judging from her lethargic movements, he surmised that she was away, though highly drugged up.

Stepping back from the door, motioning to the orderly, Doc indicated he was ready to go in. The orderly noted and then confiscated a metal pen out of Doc’s lab coat breast pocket, “You can have this back, when you get out.” His voice was flat and no nonsense. Doctor or not, he was not going to be allowed in with any contraband items. The orderly unlocked the door, opened it, allowed Doc in, then shut it hard and locked it behind him. The orderly saluted Doc through window, then headed back to his station, he had paperwork to complete.

Doc collected the lone chair in the bare chilly room and moved it beside the bed. He took his time before he sat, he would need to note everything in the chart after he left. He wanted his notes as accurate as possible. He eventually sat beside her. He relaxed casually back in the chair as one would do at a garden party or some other casual social event. He sighed in satisfaction and savored the sight of her restrained against her will in this cold desolate room.

Yet time was ticking, the orderly would return in about fifteen minutes give or take, he needed to begin his examination. Doc leaned forward, and idly lifted one of her eyelids to check her pupil reactions. He looked at her eyes carefully. The miosis of her eyes told the story all on their own. The thorazine and haldol had made her compliant and unresisting. He smirked crookedly.

Dominique felt the dryness of the muscle in her mouth that lifted and nearly felt velcroed to the sticky roof within her lips and above its flicking mass. Her gums were crisp like paper and her teeth tingled when she inhaled to work some semblance and order back into her mouth. It was spirited, fiery and that was always getting her in trouble. Or was it?

Now she heard various tones of chiming bells and then the shrill static of white noise. As he got closer silence was so loud it shattered everything else and her eyes strained to focus on him. She was a mess for his obvious pleasure or ego...perhaps he was finally going to do it. Pop that proverbial balloon of anticipation and blow her brains out? The next ***** in a uniform to come in with a needle was going to be her target. She needed to gain possession of a needle then she just needed him to come a little closer. She needed to feel the satisfaction of popping him first. Like a cerebral rush of an addict with an itch that couldn’t quite be reached she needed to feel it. Just once or maybe twice. Who was she kidding?

“As your, attending physician, it is my duty to check on the status of your wounds. And note the progress in your chart.” His voice devoid of any emotion. He stood, moved the chair back against the wall, then returned to stand by her side, he leaned over her, to stare directly into her eyes. “You understand, don’t you Minx?” This time his voice was a taunting whisper. Her dilated pupils showed little reaction to his words. “I thought you would, good girl.” His tone was patronizing and cold, punctuated by the brief sound of metal on metal.

**** him. That’s right. Her mind purred. ****. Him. So few times she had really listened to his voice like she had no choice but this time she did. Right there at that moment she listened. Minx. Oh yes, Minx. Such a way that came out. She was about to ask ‘What’s up Doc?’ when an itch set in across her nose. She bargained in her mind that if she tried hard enough she could itch it with the air around her. So sterile and cold it was. Just like him. It felt like it had fingers. Thousands of them. They were all over her dancing a silken insomniatic tango across her bare flesh beneath the hospital gown. All those fingers and they stayed lower. Her nose was up so much higher than that. Too woozy to make the fingers move upward she indulged in the path they took instead.

Doc ran his fingertips slowly down the wounds on her arms, almost caressing the healing slashes. He whispered in her ear, “Healing so quickly.. impressive… but are they... ‘all’... healing so well?” Doc’s hand slowly slid the cotton gown up to expose the wound on her belly. Again his fingers danced across the wound that had been so recently stapled shut. “How is the sensation there? Do you feel it?”

All of it was not real. This was just a deluded reality within some dream but none of this could truly be taking place. Or could it? Perhaps it was because she could swear she felt it and she held her breath to make sure. It burned so badly that, yes, she felt it. It was there. Was it real?

His eyes stared unflinchingly into hers, “And this... do you feel this? And this?” He paused, “Do you remember,.. when we first met,.. so many months ago?” A pause, “I warned you then,.. to leave this city. You didn’t listen.” A pause, then his mouth was by her ear, soft puffs of air tickling her as he whispered, “You said you could handle it.” A pause. His eyes moved back to hers, “You challenged me. Who is winning?” Another pause. “Because I.., could do this,.. all.., night.., long.”

"Are you mad that I didn't leave or are you really glad that I didn’t take the doctors advice and stayed?" She could hear the sounds of skin on skin and clinking of cold steel. Now where was he taking her? Would it hurt even more than this? Or feel even better? “I never do as I am told. Ask me to stop moving. I bet you don’t want to.”

Dominique inhaled deep and was increasingly numb to the fact she should be embarrassed at the groan that suddenly escaped her. Her fingers writhed beneath the restraints at her wrists and legs. Her dark eyes play against her by giving her brief blips of clarifying vision. There he was. So close. Much too close. Or was he?

The coolness of his skin moved smooth and sadistic with the rhythm of his words against her ear. It was cruel and it was wrong. She could see him so close from the corner of her eye then gone he was as was the ability to see what was there. Damned if she didn’t feel it. Once more to the weakening cloudy pools of effects of the narcotic cocktails he was generously pushing into her via Nurse ***** and Orderly Dick washed over her. A roll of her eyes back into those euphoric induced lids was all it took and they pinned her in their foggy hold once again.

The woman’s body was strapped down flat to the exam table she had been transferred to. The air was cool and left her covered by goosebumps vivid to the naked eyes. It could have been the numerous meds she knew were being pushed into her veins like some lab rat in the sick mans cage of mind **** he had created. However as she swam on the unpredictable surface of fragile lucidity she was not going to break. She vowed to hold on but there was something happening at that moment that had her questioning her resolve. Was that what she thought it was? He was enjoying this and if her body didn’t betray her, as it was likely quite evident, the truth would only be hers to know.

"Something tells me its the latter. I can feel it." A catch of her breath left the last word hitched as if it was dangling on something unseen, known only to the walls within the room she was kept in as something broke free and cruelly rained down over all that was not supposed to be.

“So glad you can,.. because, I wouldn’t want,.. to be the only one,.. that felt it.” The words whispered huskily in her ear. “Though I may be the only one,.. to remember it..” He drew in her scent, and “So warm…”

"How could I not?" She should turn away but to where? His eyes could burn right through her if she let them. Her breath was ragged, her lips so dry as she tried to lick them to relief. “I still feel it everywhere.”

“And you will again.. bank on it.”

Dominique couldn’t change what was the truth. It was now seeping into every layer of her skin. He warned her, she defied it. He did again, she refused to acknowledge it. He tried to stop her but she put up walls. She said never and he said yes. Now there she was confined, stilled to one spot at the point of reckoning and he was tearing those walls she kept hidden and impenetrable all to hell. Over and over and over he didn’t hold back and came at her and...she was liking it. It empowered her and strengthened her resolve to push back even more, to not give in and to show him he just opened a pandora box unlike anything he ever imagined. He wanted a challenge. He just put himself hook line and sinker eyeballs deep into one.

He pulled back to look at her abdomen, “Oh dear…” He looked at her passively, “You’ve torn a suture. I’ll have to stitch that up.” He winked, “Have you back to original, in no time..”

“Some things are never the same again.” Her lips were slow moving and heavy while her forehead was misting with perspiration.

“I did try to warn you.. “ His voice almost seductive as his hand carefully worked on fixing the tear. “However, there are some aspects, such as these type moments with you,... “ the words soft, “..that I have enjoyed.”

Who turned up the furnace? The heat of what took over her body sent it into the smallest spasms that made everything feel so much better. It was him. He gave her a shot of something on the inside. Did he or didn’t he? Goddamn opiates were ******* with her.

Dominique’s cheeks were hot with pain, the torment of the unthinkable and the confirmation that she was not going anywhere. The point of no return was lost somewhere within her and that was a whole other storm brewing to be something unlike either of them could have planned. The wound he tormented at her belly was nothing compared to the fire deep within. It fueled her as she looked at him winking so satisfied and smug about the state she was in. She would hold his eyes...literally. Time is all she needed to make that happen. Was there enough left?

The room that Dominique was confined to was proof that one space could be too much with so little within it. Too sterile. Too quiet. Too cold. Too restrained. All of it was slowly enveloping the woman and was far more proof that this was all too real. No movement of air, no voices, no stimulus and no windows. There was no way to tell if it was night or day. The room was literally void of any traces of anything significant or revealing that an outside world even existed. It was cruel in its neutral design. No pictures of scenery to beckon someone when their mind tried to curl up and fold in on itself in surrender. There were no signs with letters to rearrange into other words besides the original message they were meant to form. It was a place that left one alone with their mind in the most unforgiving way.

It was cold. So cold that she couldn’t remember what it was like to be warm. Only one thing influenced that kind of chill that wormed its way sadistically through a body. Fear. Her body shivered in various spots beneath the sheet. She blamed it on the meds because acknowledging it was her own fear working on her would be admitting defeat even if it was in her only in her own mind. Again, that was the sobering reality coming into play. Her mind was what she was left with. Nothing more than that.

The room was soundproof. The silence was nearly deafening. Unless the door was unlocking she could hear nothing except the sound of her own heartbeat and the slow repetitions of her respirations. Those were her only companions now. Even the voices in her head seemed to have abandoned her yet again. The place and the situation was that bad. Even her past was fading from her grasp. This was all so far from where she should be physically, mentally and emotionally. Was that part of his plan?

What was in physical contact with her was of no use. No warmed blankets or attentive staff. The hospital linen beneath her was too crisp and didn’t fall around the shape of her body. There was no comfort to be found in the material that should be the one thing she could connect to and drawn some sort of relief from. Even if it was something so important yet simple and natural as her own body heat. It reminded her how little she had on beneath the numerous gauze bandages and dry paper tape that held each square in place. It was so far from how she should feel. Everything about the place and the situation screamed for her to get out as soon as she possibly could.

That was what Doc told her when he first crossed her path. Was this his way of saying it again? The woman hated him more with every minute that passed while she was confined to a four point hold on her back. If he went this far to repeat his warning that she should leave what else was he willing to do? She was nearly killed and yet survived. How come? He was capable of finding her behind locked doors. He didn’t require a key or an invite. That thought alone was creepy as hell and cost her the luxury of being able to sleep undisturbed. It also ruined half of her favorite movies. She knew the truth now. The blood suckers didn’t need an invite to come in and use you as a chew toy. Just like a mosquito they found their way in. Locks were of no use.

The fact she survived this long said something more was at play. Was he unable to kill her? Did being a paladin give her some sort of invincibility when it came to those attacking her? Was there some force or power that interceded and kept watch over her and collected her at the brink of death? The burn of guilt set in and twisted in her gut. Her grandmother would be rolling over in her grave at what was being debated in her own mind.

If her gut being twisted by guilt was not enough her then it was no help that her *** hurt like hell from lack of movement. Her joints were feeling the fatigue. Each ache and pain was miniscule compared to the twinge of hopelessness trying to make its presence known in her mind. If it got in and seated itself in her thoughts its message would eat at her until all was lost and nothing was left. Part of her couldn’t stop wondering if she already had and just didn’t accept it yet.

Outside the obvious Dominique felt like a patchwork project forgotten as the hours dragged painfully slow for her. The staff was useless to her. Anything she said was met with a flat effect. That left her with the message that they would rather be *** puppets to the pricks and cunts in suits with complimentary lab coats than to think and act as the care advocates they were supposed to be for any patient presented to them.

That was the thing that boggled her mind more and more outside everything else as she lay there. How the hell was he able to pull this off? Everyone that came in the room looked at her as if she belonged where she was. She had no medically documented history in Harper Rock. Her previous wounds taken care of by the nuns. What if the whole hospital was one big fang run operation? The formal complaint she brought in and personally handed to the hospital administrator likely was never taken any more serious than she currently was. The time that had passed was not without her groggily voicing her objections to refuse treatment and care fell on deaf ears. The ******** probably made sure it was in her chart now.

Obviously the attempt at caging the man like a rat in her apartment failed miserably. Her body was confirming it as she twitched to get any amount of movement from her limbs. One thing was a sure bet. She was more sane than the one responsible for her being there. Doc. He was as sick and twisted as they could come breathing or cold as a week old corpse. He was seriously beyond that. A dead man was running the show and calling the shots while the rest breathed and nodded in complacency.

“You can get through this.” Her own words of reassurance flowed through her thoughts. She wanted to make sure she was still listening to herself. If she didn’t then she knew she was totally fucked.

Dominique believed she was of sound mind and body. Granted things were a little fuzzy but that was because her veins were currently serving as a non-stop highway for whatever was in those syringes that kept biting the inside of her right arm every six hours. Who wouldn’t be a little off with all that swimming through their system?

The click of the inner workings of a lock snapped for her attention. Her dark eyes darted to the location of the door and she waited. She hoped that it would be someone who would finally be receptive to what she had to say. She squirmed again beneath the sheet. Each muscle slowly stretched as much as it could. Her mind was set on survival. She would not break. If she had not by now then something besides time was on her side.

A nightmare on two feet wearing a lab coat appeared before her. There was so many ways she wanted to get her hands on him and break him down slowly until he shattered into miniscule particles of fucked for eternity dust. Dominique swallowed slowly and tried to stay calm focusing on her pattern of breathing and heart rate. His kind were predators, scavengers and hunters. Any sign of fear or defense was a confirmation he was in control.

The not-so-nuts patient was prepared for this inevitable meeting. Dominique forced her eyes to remain wide and soft. If she appeared receptive perhaps she could lead him to believe his message he gave her in the very beginning was finally received as her cloudy mind cleared. Narrowing them would say what she really felt and it would not serve her immediate goal of getting free. His voice saying her name was as pleasant as needles digging under her fingernails. He had no right to address her like he cared about how she felt. Who was he kidding? The master of mindfuckery would get a taste of his own medicine.

“I am alive. I guess I owe that to all the exceptional care I have received. I would not have survived had it not been for your intervention and fast response. Thank you for all you have done.”

Each and every word that rolled off her tongue and out of her lips was so sour that she was sure she could vomit from how it made her feel hearing her own voice say it out loud. It was true perhaps, she was alive because of his interceding. She was sure if he was it certainly wasn’t because he cared. That was so far from it. He had plans and none of them were in her favor. She would appear out of character even in her compromised condition if she didn’t demonstrate a small show of her trademark tenacity. Now for the million dollar question.

“So, Doctor Nilson, what do I owe you for this pleasure of the fine accommodations?”

Dominique finally peeled her eyes from his and casually took a visual tour down the center of his business-like covered chest. The lab coat fit him as if he deserved the privilege to wear one. Her eyes traveled across his waist to glance at the pockets to see what if any outline was visible to offer clues to the contents within. A crucifix dangled at the top likely anchored by the string of beads still inside. What the **** was he doing with a rosary? Her heart nearly stopped as she saw one small familiar bead as he moved. Her eyes darted back to his and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. The son of a ***** had totally crossed the line.

“You have certainly out done yourself.” She forced out the truth in the softest genuine tone she could muster given what she just discovered in his possession.