i.
There was something unreservedly frightening about a hospital at night.
Maybe it was the white, flickering fluorescent lighting lining the ceiling; like every scary movie's insane asylum's illumination of choice, that shuts off down a corridor as a jump scare bubbles to the surface. Or it might be the eerie silence that falls over the wing of the hospital with the long stay residents, where things have lulled to a sense of stillness and placidity, the nurse's buzzer only going off any once in a while because someone wants their water jug refilled. It could be the gentle thrum of silence that rings throughout the halls as well, the only noise other than a nearly muted TV being the scratch of a pen to paper or the clicking of a keyboard – maybe the roll of a wheeled chair in the distance.
All of it was enough to give Y/N the creeps at least, who had seen far to many horror films to be comfortable with this. If not for the hours she had to put in for her university's program, Y/N wouldn't be caught dead in a hospital at night – even if it was the only shift available at the hospitals that were near her, she would rather drive the state over. Perhaps it'd be different if the woman she was shadowing was kind, but she'd been running her like a pack mule for a majority of the night, had barely had a steady conversation with her that didn't end or begin with an order, and even called her the wrong name each time she spoke to her.
But alas, those were the cards she'd been dealt, and for some reason she's being sent to part of the hospital that's been shut down for reconstruction apart from the break room and the blood bank, just because the break room had Snickers in the vending machine. Which she wouldn't mind if it wasn't fucking night time, and anything could be sneaking around the premises...more specifically ghosts who might hate the light pink scrubs she's wearing, or have a particular distaste for the strawberry scented lotion she'd just rubbed onto her arms. Feels like something is staring at the back of her neck when she turns down the hall and as she ventures deeper, there's no occupied rooms, and she's feeling by herself without feeling by herself.
One would think Y/N would've thought this through when she decided she wanted to work in the medical field, but if she's honest she'd been thinking more cute office nurse who is lowkey having an affair with the head physician. Not the trekking through a vacant segment of a hospital for a fucking candy bar because her superior is a bit of a prick and too lazy to get up herself kind. Nor did she want to be the one who hears a noise arise from the blood bank room and pause mid-step like an idiot, to crane her neck just a bit so that she can see the door is cracked open. Which is...suspicious, to say the least. Nobody should be over in this wing, considering the only way to get to it is to pass by the nurse's station Y/N's been sat at the entire night and not a soul had dared skipped over in this direction since her shift had started.
And every horror film that she's seen should have conditioned her to fucking ignore that, go to the vending machine, get the Snickers and return to the safety of charting and periodically checking Mrs. Lumen's IV drip. For some reason though, she decides to pivot on her heel, surpass the breakroom, ignore every signal her body is giving her to run the hell away (she sees her goosebumps in times like these to be anxiety ridden cells imploring with her to make good decisions that she ultimately disregards), and goes to the door. Places her palm flat against it, just above the knob, slowly pushing it open with brows furrowed expecting to see another student who'd gotten turned around or maybe even a patient still getting used to their pain killer high.
Instead she sees a man, placing blood pouches into a black duffel bag like it was the most casual thing in the world.
At first she thinks she might be being tricked – even goes as far to peek her head back out at the hall, looking up and down but when nobody is seen she ticks that off the list. Should she be worried? Or scared even? She's both but something doesn't let her move. No...no moving would be smart, and instead of utilizing her quality GPA and commonsense, she decides to not be smart. No, for some reason, she clears her throat loudly and watches as he pauses with his hand over the A+ rack, a tense clear in his shoulders, "Uh...excuse me?" Y/N begins, trying to push forth an assertive tone but it comes out awkward and unsure, "You aren't supposed to be in here. Or taking the blood. Like at all."
