Charlie
She never finished what she was going to say as she froze mid-sentence. I waited for her to respond, and calling out to her repeatedly did nothing. I yelled louder, but she still didn't respond at all. There was also something off with her face now, it no longer looked as animated or fleshed out as it had before.
I reached over to tap her on the shoulder, though this just set her off balance and she nearly fell out of the chair. I caught her, and noticed that her skin now felt like plastic and not like flesh like it had earlier. She had also lost her pulse.
Had I just completely lost my mind? I looked over to the floor to see the remnants of her teardrops as spots on the floor, they were still there.
I propped her up in the chair and shone my phone's flashlight in both of her eyes - I got no pupillary response on either side. What had she been saying? What was coming soon? I had no way of knowing, was she really just some high-tech animatronic and her batteries had run out or something?
Her words echoed in my mind though- 'once you have removed all that is impossible'- had I really removed all that was impossible though? I hadn't checked her that closely for any wires or batteries. It would have been easy enough to do so given she wasn't reacting at all - and as a nurse I had seen my fair share of bodies, both male and female, of all ages. But that had been in a professional setting, and something just seemed wrong about undressing her given she was talking to me a few minutes ago and unable to consent to it.
I decided to place her on the table for now when it struck me that the sky was becoming much lighter outside. Wait - was that it? Was she some kind of weird vampire-like creature whose powers only worked at night? She could've been saying 'it's about to be dawn', though there was another possibility- one which was far more likely.
That I was just going crazy and had imagined the whole thing.
I sat in the ER an hour later after having spoken to the triage nurse. It took time to get someone to see me, but then again, I had nothing urgent so I couldn't blame them for making me wait. I knew how these things worked from experience.
Finally someone did wander over to ask me questions. "So, what brings you here today... ah, Mr. Padwick?"
"Well uh," I started to speak, but unsure how much I should share to accomplish my goal without getting involuntarily hospitalized. "Well, a few years ago I started uh, hearing voices, and I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I was on something called uh, Zyprexa ten milligrams a night. I got better so my psychiatrist stopped it two years back, and I just moved in from another state a month back so I can't go see him anymore, but I started, uh... hearing them again. It's going to take me time to get an appointment with another therapist, so I was wondering if I could get a few day's supply for now to tide me over until I could make one?"
"Ah... any other medical conditions that you have?"
"No."
"And these voices... can you describe them a bit more?"
"It's... only a single voice. A girl's voice. Almost like my sister's."
"And what does the voice tell you to do?"
"Nothing, just random, useless things - but it's annoying."
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"I see, and have you ever had thoughts about harming yourself?"
"Never."
"Or killing yourself?"
"No."
"Or hurting anyone else?"
"No."
I was seen by the ER physician about an hour after that, and after a brief conversation with him and EKG that showed my heart was 'alright', he agreed to give me a prescription for three days along with the number of their mental health clinic which I could call to make an appointment during business hours.
I walked over to my car. I didn't want to use the ER as a sort of emergency clinic given I knew firsthand how busy it could get and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time, not to mention I also didn't want to upfront lie to them (I had never had schizophrenia before) but I couldn't really tell them the truth.
I looked at the bottle of pills. I had no idea if this was even the right thing for me - just something I'd seen prescribed a lot when I was working for patients with psychiatric issues. I had often instructed patients on how bad it was to lie, or exaggerate, or take medications without asking a provider first, and here I was doing everything that went against my earlier advice.
I took a deep breath. Did I really think I was going crazy? No. That was exactly what a crazy person would think, however. I wouldn't know until night came again and I could speak to her again.
What else was there to do? Where could I turn?
First, I went to a real estate site and listed the house for sale, hoping that I might get an offer. It was a long shot, but as long as it didn't break the bank too badly, I would accept it. I might even decide to go back to nursing for a few months if that was what was required to get back in the black.
After that the name 'Evergreen' came to me again, and after a little searching on the Internet, I decided to dig further into that name. The issue was that I didn't have her name - and when I went online, the records only went so far in the past, beyond which I would have to try to find them in person.
There was one last place I could try though - a place that I could access without people asking questions. The cemetery. I tried my best not to look suspicious as I went towards the older headstones, starting with those that had passed away in the 1950s.
I did see one name, by the name of Edward Evergreen, who had passed away in the year 1917. Looking him up online didn't give me anything, so I went back further.
Charlotte
I was stopped mid-sentence, and was immobilized as I watched the man examine me like I was some kind of toy. He left me on the table and then walked away, and i heard the faint sound of his automobile starting before all went silent.
And so, I was forced to lie there for hours. I had no real need to go back to my case other than habit, but I still thought it was quite rude of him to leave me like this. Yes, my initial assessment of him was absolutely correct - he was a brute with no manners. Especially given how he had struck me so!
He did come back later in the evening, though it wasn't until a while later that I was able to get up and give him a piece of my mind.
"You!" I shouted out at him as he looked like he was ready to head out somewhere.
"Rude way to speak to someone," he said, while putting on a hideous orange vest that clashed with the rest of his clothes. "Isn't it, Emily Evergreen?"
"That was my aunt's name, not mine," I retorted.
"I see, so May Evergreen?"
"My cousin."
"Charlotte Evergreen?"
I was silent. "Ah, so I hit the jackpot there." He showed me a picture on a weird small television he carried around in his pocket, and it showed a gravestone with my name on it.
'Charlotte Evergreen
March 23rd, 1884- December 2nd, 1906
Beloved Daughter,
Taken From Us Too Soon'
A gravestone. My gravestone. I had assumed I had died, which is how I ended up in this situation in the first place, but to be given actual proof of my passing in this way was still unsettling.
"I also found your name in another set of records," he said. "In a registry of people who had died of Consumption."
Consumption. That word brought memories back, of the doctors saying there was no hope, of the reflection in the mirror becoming thinner and paler day by day, until one day I couldn't even stand, until... and all that I remembered after that was blackness. No memories of my actual death at all.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked him.
"I thought you'd like to know, since you didn't," he said. He then got up. "Anyway, I have to get to work."
"Is that it? You're just going to tell me how I died and then leave?"
"Hey, some of us have to work for a living, and can't live inside abandoned houses for free while paying no taxes like you," he said before heading out the door.