Here I am, sitting in the broom closet at my hospital, mortified, while working a late night shift. Let me tell you how I got here. I, 29 M, was taking care of a patient on the fourth floor. She was an older lady who was suffering from stage four mesothelioma. Her husband had passed away in the late 60’s and she never got around to redoing the house, causing extreme asbestos exposure. She was only 70 pounds and made the worst sounds when she would breathe; seeing her become this way brought such pain and sorrow into my heart. She always made delicious donuts and brought coffee for our staff when she would come for her chemo and radiation appointments. She would also give homemade cards for our birthdays, never missing one ever since she started coming here. She was too kind for this world and she does not deserve this illness at all. I approached her room at about 02:30 to give her the pain meds she has to take every 8 hours, just to make her life a little easier.
“Mrs. Hough? It’s Wyatt, it’s time to take your medication.”
No response.
I looked at the monitor, which read all seemingly normal vitals.
“Mrs. Hough? It’s 02:30, I need you to take these medications, please. I promise you can go back to sleep right after. I even brought you some apple juice, I know it’s your favorite.”
No response.
Okay, this is not like her. Did she go into a coma? Is she unconscious somehow? She’s usually compliant, is she okay?
I lightly tapped her arm this time as I said, once again, “Mrs. Hou-”
I was cut off by her sharply turning her head towards me. And in a very rattling, yet deep voice she says, “do not touch me.”
I jumped when this happened. It felt like my heart was beating out of my chest. I swallowed and said, “I didn’t mean to startle you Mrs. Hough, I just need you to ta-”
“Leave it on the table, boy. I’ll take it myself. I do not need to be coddled. I am 98 years old, I am a grown man.”
“Okay, Mrs. Hough. Don’t forget.”
I set the medicine on the table and I left the room. I kept replaying the incident in my head. She has never acted like this, she was always so compliant and sweet whenever we needed her to take her meds. Why did she sound so.. Evil? Better yet, why did she say she was a grown man? I know terminal agitation is common when people are about to pass, but I just did not want to accept it. It was depressing to even think that the sweet, loving, caring Mrs. Marjorie Hough would turn this way before she passed. But the suffering can really take a toll on someone’s mental and physical well being.
After about an hour, I took the elevator back to her room to check on her and see if she took her meds.
Upon arrival, I could hear what sounded like scratches against the wall. I peeked into the window of the door before I entered. When I looked, I saw Mrs. Hough standing by the window, scratching the wall next to it. I can’t believe this. She hasn’t been able to get out of bed since we’ve put her in this room. How is this even possible? I opened the door. I could just barely see her, as the room was only lit up from the hallway light, but the stench.. Was almost unbearable.
“Mrs. Hough, what are you doing out of bed? It’s really late, you should be resting.”
No response.
I glanced over to see if she had taken her medication. Thankfully, she did. However, I noticed she had taken her oxygen tubes out and her clothes were ripped to shreds, laying in a pile next to her.
“Mrs. Hough, I need you to get back into bed now, okay?”
After standing there for what seemed like hours, staring at the sight before me, she turned around very slowly. Like I said before, the room had very little light, but I know what I saw. After watching her fully turn around, her face and right hand are covered in blood. Her eyes, more sunken in than before and her lips were a dark purple.
“Son, would you mind opening the window? It’s a little too warm in here and I can feel the bugs crawling all over me.”
She grinned her usual, sweet grin.
“Mrs. Hough, what happened? Are you alright?”
“ANSWER my question, Wyatt.”
This startled me. I had never heard her yell like this.
“I can’t open the window, but I can turn the air on. But before I do that, I need you to tell me what happened, Mrs. Hough.”
She looked at me with confusion. She felt her face and it seemed as if all of her soul had left her body and she turned into a different person. She started to laugh as she tore into her face more… and more.
“It’s the bugs, Wyatt. The bug bug bug. The BUGS.”
She started ripping pieces of her flesh off as she continued to whisper the words “the bugs” over and over again. She started creeping towards me.
I grabbed my pager, and tried to dial for a code gray. 5..5..
My pager stopped working. Why is my pager not working? This is silly, Mrs. Hough isn’t violent, is she?
“You don’t want to do that, Wyatt.”
Her voice.. It sounded so sinister. I don’t know what happened. How did she turn this way? She was perfectly fine earlier. All of a sudden she said something that made me snap right out of my thoughts.
“Brother.. Wy wy? Please, I’m so scared. Why are there so many spiders? You know I hate spiders, please brother help me!”
My sister.. It sounded exactly like her. My sister died by getting hit by a car while she was walking to school. That was enough. I needed to get out of this room. My feet, they feel glued to the ground. I can’t move. I look up and see Mrs. Hough standing in front of me, face all bloody, just laughing. She pushes me back so hard that I fall to the ground and hit my head on the door. How is she so strong? She has almost no muscle and 0% body fat.
“You should NOT have come here, Franklin.”
Franklin? That’s my grandpa’s name. How does Mrs. Hough know so much about me? I have never told her anything about my family. I quickly got up and ran out of the room, locking it behind me. All I can hear now is Mrs. Hough screaming.
“I’M COMING FRANKLIN, I’M COMING. DON’T YOU RUN. WHAT ABOUT THE BABY?”
Baby? What baby? Did my grandpa and Mrs. Hough have relations? Her screams, they sound so sinister. Standing there, out of breath, a doctor walks by.
“Dr. Blanche, I need your help.”
He looks at me, worried.
“What is it, Wyatt? And why are you so sweaty?”
Just as he stops speaking, we hear things being thrown around in Mrs. Hough’s room. He looks at me, frightened, then looks back at the room. He rushes in there, me behind him.
Mrs. Hough throws a picture frame at me and says, “If you don’t leave I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll kill you!”
Her voice is completely unrecognizable now.
“Wyatt?” Dr. Blanche says, “Hide somewhere far and call for help. Tell everyone it’s a code gray.”
“Help?” I start, “I can help, what do you me-”
“GO.”
So that’s exactly what I did. But before I left, I peaked back in and saw Mrs. Hough grab Dr. Blanches arm and rip it off. Hearing him scream in agony was enough to make me vomit on the spot. I looked back into the room and saw Mrs. Hough staring at me, only it didn’t look like her at all now. She had razor sharp teeth and claws that made it very easier for her to bite a portion of Dr. Blanche’s arm right off.
I ran and screamed for help after I saw that. Many people rushed over there as I rushed to this closet. I don’t know what’s happening, but the whole hospital has lost power and all I can hear are the loud shrieks of what I can assume is Mrs. Hough. I’ve been here for almost 2 hours now. My shift ends at 07:00, but I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon..