My Smile | | 4 You

 

When the Raccoon Came

A raccoon moved quietly across a support beam in front of the hospital entrance. Its small paws stepped with precision, tail swaying for balance. It paused for a moment — its black eyes scanned the dimming surroundings as twilight settled over the grounds. Then, it resumed its journey slowly, deliberately.

From a window on the second floor of the mental ward, a patient watched with intense focus. The hallway behind him was dimly lit, and the air carried the quiet weight of evening. He didn’t blink. His gaze followed the raccoon as though they shared an unspoken understanding.

Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from the recreation room. One of the security guards had collapsed — his body crumpling in the middle of the floor. A piercing siren blared throughout the building, setting lights to flash in red pulses. Footsteps of rushing personnel followed.

But the patient didn’t move. His body remained still — his eyes fixed firmly on the raccoon outside.

The animal paused again, this time turning its small face toward the very window where the patient stood. Their eyes met. The raccoon’s black eyes reflected the dull hospital light. The patient’s expression shifted into a soft, rare smile. His lips curled gently, as if acknowledging a long-lost friend.

In that fragile moment of connection, a guard entered the room and grabbed the patient’s arm firmly. “Back to your bed,” the guard ordered. The patient didn’t resist. He allowed himself to be pulled away, but his head remained turned — eyes still locked on the raccoon.

The siren faded in the background. Medical staff swarmed the room below, tending to the fallen guard. Chaos reigned inside, but outside, the world remained quiet. Peaceful.

The raccoon blinked once, then gracefully stepped off the beam and disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

“He’s gone,” the patient whispered, as if the moment had just ended something sacred. Slowly, he lowered his head in quiet sorrow.

And the night grew darker.

My Smile || 4 You

A man lay in bed, eyes open yet lost in a world beyond the room. His hand reached into the air, fingers gently swaying, like touching invisible threads. His lips moved with soft murmurs  words meant for no one, or perhaps, for someone only he could see.

Guards stood on alert behind the reinforced glass of the observation room. Every movement of the patients was monitored closely. The side effects of a powerful medication had sent several of them into temporary hallucinations. But this was expected. This room held patients with vastly different psychiatric conditions,  each with a dark past and a shared silence about a crime that united them.

Near the door was a man diagnosed with schizophrenia,  a severe mental disorder marked by distortions in thinking, perception, emotions, and behaviour. He often whispered to people who weren’t there and sometimes screamed at the ceiling, convinced it was watching him.

At the far end near the window sat a patient with dissociative identity disorder, previously known as multiple personality disorder. Speech patterns shifted unpredictably, and handwriting changed with each new “self” that emerged. That patient had once signed a legal statement in three different names all.

In the centre of the room was a patient with mood disorder, possibly bipolar disorder. One moment, was euphoric, speaking rapidly about hope and dreams; the next, collapsed into tears, curling into the self, overcome by despair.

They had committed a crime together, or so the law claimed. The evidence was unclear, their memories fractured. Some experts believed they were victims of psychological manipulation, pawns in a larger scheme. But in the eyes of the court, they were guilty.

Family and close friends were forbidden from visiting. Their identities were protected yet buried under the weight of legal judgment and public opinion.

A guard stepped closer to the glowing monitor, eyes narrowed.
 “Is the dosage correct?” he asked.

The other guard, seated before the monitor, replied calmly, “Yes. He’s just lifting his hand and mumbling. The serum’s doing its job.”

Behind the screen, the hallucinating man continued his gentle motion, as though reaching for something long-lost or never real to begin with.

The lights flickered briefly. Outside the thick glass, nothing but silence and the rhythmic pulse of the security system.

My Smile | | 4 You

Nurses watched from a distance on the second floor of the hospital. He witnessed that the woman did not care and did not want to return the item. A man next to the nurse asked, "Why isn't he laughing?". The man was holding glasses, wearing a silver watch in his right hand and wearing a black shirt and pants made of the finest fabric in the world.

The shoes worn are made of leather and brown with shades of gray, black and white decorating the outward appearance of the shoes.

The nurse shook her head, "There's something she wants to do." as she turned around and headed towards the sofa chair located in the middle of the room. "Please sit down," said the nurse.

We must be able to ensure that patients are safe to communicate with. The patient's mental condition is unpredictable. The biggest chance should be from the woman.

The man sat across from him and put down his glass. "That's not a chance," the man replied. The man took the laptop and opened a file called "The Serum".

The file presents patient data in the sick room and the entire medical history. He chose a name from the existing one. "What about him?" The man asked by holding the screen of the electronic device to the nurse. "No, the patient is in isolation room." The nurse replied. He could not do activities with other patients. In some activities he avoids and just sits on the floor without speaking. After about three minutes he screamed for help. Several other patients also shouted for help and activated the siren.

At that time, all guards had to be on standby so that there would be no commotion.

Not an option that suits the current situation. 

Visiting hour Ends.

#mentalhealth

#psychology

#mystery

#hospital