Forgetting the Apocalypse

49. Change of Scenery

Unnamed Pov*

I've been a doctor for many years. At first, I was a medical practitioner. It made me happy and feel like I have done something good in this awful world whenever I would be able to perform the impossible on the operating table. However all that disappeared when I heard about a young man's death whom I had successfully operated on. His name was Adrian.

I was told by the paramedics that he had been stabbed, had multiple bruising and lacerations on his back as well as numerous bite marks all over his body. Some new and some very old. Yet, despite his wounds, he kept on fighting with everyone. The paramedics who brought him, the staff and nurses. He even tried to take a bite out of the poor janitor who was passing by.

He only settled down was he was sedated but he kept shouting the same thing over and over. "I failed you Mama".

Even during the operation we were all on edge. When I say that this young man had bite marks all over his body I really mean all over his body. Some were jagged like he was having chunks of flesh torn from him. Others were just teeth marks that clearly did not come from person. The ones on his wrists and forearms however really made me shake.

They looked self inflicted.

I ignored it. Well as best as I could. I had a job to do. Patch this kid up and then police can deal with whatever he was into. So that's what I did. Though it was a little more complicated than that.

Afterwards, I did what I always do. I filled out the documents of the procedure, wrote down my findings and informed the officers that the kid was going to make it. Normally, that's when I would get that rush of happiness that I usually get from helping someone but I felt the opposite. When my patients would wake up, I would get notified by the nurses and I would have to tell them what happened. The extent of their injuries, what I did and what the road to recover would look like. Instead, the second this kid woke up he was in a frenzy.

Nurses again had to restrain him and put him under mild sedation. He was still muttering the same thing. I failed you Mama. Over and over. Luckily for us, the restraints helped but we quickly found ourselves into another dilemma. He wasn't eating at all. Nothing we would bring him would get his attention. One nurse even went out of his way to bring him a home cooked meal.

He wouldn't eat it. It wasn't until one nurse screamed, calling for help. Because he was my patient, I went running as well. What I saw is what made me change my profession.

The reason he wouldn't eat any food that we brought him was more than it not appealing to him. It's because it wasn't the right kind of meat. Adrian had been starving, so he chewed off his top and bottom lip. He was chewing his lips like they were caviar. The grunts and moans were just as disturbing as the blood running down to his chest.

It got worst when one of the nurses tried getting him to spit his lips out and ended up getting his own fingers bitten clean off.

Things felt like they were happening so slowly after that. We sedated Adrian again. The nurse couldn't get his fingers reattached because they were chewed beyond repair. When the police came back, I demanded that they take him. He was a danger not only to my staff but to other patients as well if he were to get free.

My demands were met quicker than I thought they would be because other doctors from a psychiatric hospital came for him.

About two weeks later that Adrian starved himself to death. While he was more than happy to talk, he wouldn't eat anything that the doctors gave. Even if they forced it, he's throw it up or tried to take a bite out of them. And since it was obviously illegal to feed him human flesh, eventually he starved.

What he talked about, well found out who Mama was.

Adrian was brought to the hospital because he had attacked an older man in his home. The older man was also being detained because he was found in nearly the same condition as Adrian. The same kind of bite wounds. He had been the one to call the cops and it had been one of the most disturbing phone calls that I have ever heard.

By the time the police got there, the older man was nearly inconsolable. He thought he had killed his friend, which even if he did, it would have been in self defense. But that didn't make things any easier for the man. His name I later came to know was Alfredo but he went by Fredi.

Right after I had walked into Adrian's room, I had made my choice to change profession, so after some years I earned my degree in counseling psychology. Fredi, became my first patient.

It was awkward at first. I did everything I could not to let the bias of what happened at my former job affect the way I would interact with him but I guess my poker face wasn't as good as I thought. Luckily for me, Fredi was a lot nicer than he looked. He didn't have that brutish or rugged look that screams danger as most have that let you know instantly not for fuck with them, but his eyes were a different story.

He could be smiling and joking with you the entire time but if you look into his eyes, you'd see pain and a sort of darkness that you could only pray would never be directed at you.

I'd never thought I'd see that look in other but I was wrong. While they weren't biologically related, but they were a family nonetheless. There were six of them. Three boys and two girls. The youngest of them had only been seventeen but even he had the same look when he was still.... They all did, but the one that had it the worst was the oldest of the girls.

Everyone called her Mara even though that wasn't her legal name.

Now normally, doctors would determine the conditions of a patient. Whether or not they are a danger to themselves or society, whether they can join it again or remained hospitalized. And normally, any doctor would agree that these were dangerous individuals who were capable of great violence. Only if provoked however.

In my expert opinion, they reminded me of dogs who were rescued from those fighting pits. They can be calm and serene and almost normal looking, but any sudden movements or threats and in a blink of an eye they could be killers. My staff and I learned that the hard way. No one was killed, thank God, but a couple of meadow voles had managed to infest one of our older buildings.

When I tell you they had a fit, I mean they went absolutely crazy on the little rodents. It was downright barbaric. Things got worst when a nurse rounded the corner and startled Mara. The man easily had a foot and two hundred pounds on her but she was surprisingly strong. Because Mara was attacking, that prompted more to come in order to restrain her, which meant that the younger woman jumped in.

Then shit really hit the fan when one of the guys saw the nurses and security trying to subdue the women.

I'm almost certain we used up nearly all our supply of sedatives getting them settled down. Every time there was an incident, I was worried that all their progress would disappear, especially Mara's. Group therapy and even therapy dogs seemed to be well but I think the best thing for them would be a new home. One that doesn't remind them of the hell they've been through.

That's why I can't wait for them to see their new home facility in Alaska. Thing is, will that be enough when they come to and I have to tell them the young boy's heart finally gave out.