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

My Smile | | 4You

 

Departure After the Second Exit

After passing through the second exit, the woman met someone. A man in a charcoal suit, standing beside a black vehicle, leaned slightly toward her.
 “Have you met him?” he asked while opening the car door, his eyes avoiding hers.

“I did.” Her voice was flat, emotionless, but her clenched jaw betrayed the turmoil beneath.
 “Let him stay there a while longer,” she added while stepping into the car. “Let him be an example.”

The man only nodded in silence, closing the car door softly behind her as if not to disturb the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Just as the engine started, a guard sprinted toward the vehicle, his face pale and eyes wide. He knocked on the tinted window, breathless.
 “Madam! You need to return the item,” he said, gasping.

The woman lowered the window halfway. “I’m not returning it,” she replied firmly.

“But, madam — without returning the serum vial, you may not be granted visiting rights again.” The guard’s voice cracked. “This was part of the agreement.”

She looked at him for a moment   long enough to make him uncomfortable. “Then I will not visit again,” she said coldly, her voice cutting like glass.

As the window rolled up, her eyes disappeared behind dark sunglasses. The car began to move. The guard stood frozen, watching the vehicle retreat through the hospital gates. His hands trembled. He pulled out a small notepad, writing furiously.

Inside the car, silence stretched between the woman and the driver. The buildings blurred outside, yet her thoughts remained fixed on the man lying in his hallucinations inside the facility. Her final memory of him   laughing on her shoulder, disconnected from reality  kept replaying in her mind.

Back at the hospital, the nurse who had handed her the second serum entered a restricted hallway, locking the door behind her. She stared at a set of patient folders  one was missing.

In a private surveillance room, a frame was frozen. The woman could be seen putting something into her coat pocket. The item was unmarked. A red alert light began flashing silently in the corner of the screen.

As the car disappeared into the city, the voice over the hospital speaker echoed once more:

“Visiting hour ends.”

#mentalhealth

#psychology

#mystery

#hospital

My Smile not For You

The siren sounded loudly. The nurse approached the two.

"They're dead." she said to herself. While checking the pulse.

A guard approached. He immediately lifted the woman first. Then another guard followed and held her hand. An additional guard helped by holding the woman's body. They moved the woman onto the bed.

The nurse then began to examine the patient. "The patient was still breathing some time ago." while writing a death certificate. "2:12 pm time of patient's death." after making sure according to procedure the nurse turned to the woman.

In a low voice, "She took the serum." Then the old man approached the nurse slowly and fearfully while asking. "Why did the woman take the serum?"

The nurse did not respond with a sound, she waved her hand towards the old man. The old man moved away but looked back several times.

From a distance a girl ran over and then beside the two bodies she danced.

The guard and nurse ignored the girl.

Visiting hours ended.

________________

#mentalhealth

#psychology

#mystery

#hospital 

My Smile for You : The Girl Who Read a Book and Mind

"Why aren't you laughing?" a girl approached the woman before she reached the exit. The girl was holding a book and wearing glasses. Not even half the height of the woman.

The woman slightly moved away. Looking nervous and anxious, her clenched hands moved to collide. The rhythm of the clashing hands changed after she decided to respond.

"Why aren't you laughing?" the girl asked for the second time. She took off and cleaned her glasses, while the book that was previously held in her right hand was held between her left armpit.

Shaking her head, once again the woman only responded with silence and shook her head.

Then she stepped away from the girl towards the exit.

A siren sounded. An officer entered through the exit. The officer stopped the girl who tried to follow.

The last step through the exit, the woman turned around.

"Please remove your belongings and visiting robes." a voice came from the speaker in the small isolation room before the second exit. Place them on the next table.

The second exit opened.

#mentalhealth

#psychology

#mystery

#hospital

My Smile for You : The Veteran

Not far from the patient, a hunched 73-year-old man moved slowly toward the woman. Despite his age, he stood tall—178 centimeters—but his stooped posture and trembling hands revealed a lifetime of burdens.

“Why don’t you laugh?” the old man asked, his voice thick with confusion and a hint of frustration. “You always come every morning, wearing white clothes.”

The woman remained seated, her eyes fixed on the floor. When he asked again, louder this time, “Why don’t you laugh?” she stood abruptly, careful not to disturb the chair she had been sitting in. Her movements were deliberate but hesitant. The nurse, observing from a distance in her light purple uniform, signaled silently to the nearby guards dressed in black.

“Why aren’t you laughing?” the old man demanded for the third time, extending his trembling hand and pointing with his index finger toward the patient, who lay still, lost in hallucinations.

The tension in the room thickened as a guard stepped forward, gently guiding the old man to calm him down. The man’s questions echoed the silent confusion felt by everyone trapped within these hospital walls—a question without an easy answer.

The woman, her shoulders heavy with unseen weight, quietly left the room, her head bowed low. The nurse’s watchful eyes followed her, as the guards stood alert nearby, ready to intervene if necessary.

In this place where smiles are rare and laughter is fragile, the old man’s persistent questions lingered in the air like a haunting echo—“Why don’t you laugh?” A question that exposed the fragile line between hope and despair inside the mental hospital.

Visiting hours ended.

#MentalHealth 

#Psychology 

#Mystery 

#Hospital 

#Caregiver 

#MentalDisorders 

#EmotionalStruggle

My Smile not For You

“Why, are you crying?” the patient asked softly.

“Nothing,” she answered, though deep inside, she knew there was a problem.

In a quiet corner of the mental hospital, a man with a troubled mind was being treated. Diagnosed with a severe mental disorder and connected to a past murder case, his life was marked by pain and isolation. Every day during visiting hours, a woman came to care for him, offering silent support amid the cold walls and clinical routines.

“You should be able to laugh,” he said suddenly, a faint grin breaking through his troubled gaze. Leaning heavily on her right shoulder, the patient burst into loud, almost manic laughter, filling the room with an unsettling noise.

Almost immediately, a nurse appeared, her face calm but businesslike. She injected the patient with a serum designed to calm his erratic behavior. The man’s eyes closed as the medication took effect.

The woman looked at the nurse, concern etched on her face. “Why?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling.

The nurse took the woman’s hand gently and placed an additional vial in her palm. “Here’s the serum,” she said, pointing to the vial on the table. “It’s for you.”

Without a word, the woman nodded silently. She took the serum and, with a steady breath, lay down beside the patient on the narrow hospital bed.

The sterile clock ticked relentlessly. 

Visiting hours ended.

Outside, the hospital walls held secrets no one dared to speak aloud. The woman’s choice — to share in the patient’s suffering — was a silent act of solidarity, a smile not meant for the world, but for him alone.

#MentalHealth
#Psychology
#Mystery
#Hospital
#Caregiving
#MentalDisorder
#EmotionalJourney

My Smile for You

“Why, are you crying?” the patient asked softly.

“Nothing,” she replied quietly, forcing a smile. “There is no problem.”

Inside a dimly lit room of a mental hospital, a man with a troubled mind sat silently. Diagnosed with a severe mental disorder and involved in a tragic murder case, his presence was both unsettling and heartbreaking. Despite his condition, there was a fragile humanity in his eyes, especially when the woman arrived every day during visiting hours.

She was his sole visitor, a quiet guardian who stayed by his side. “You should be able to laugh,” he said suddenly, a strained smile breaking through his troubled expression. Leaning gently on her right shoulder, he laughed—a loud, unrestrained sound that echoed off the sterile walls.

Almost immediately, a nurse appeared. Calm but firm, she approached with a small vial containing a serum meant to soothe the patient’s agitation. The nurse injected the serum carefully, and within moments, the man’s body relaxed. His eyes fluttered shut, and he slipped into a deep sleep filled with vivid hallucinations.

The woman looked to the nurse with worried eyes. “When will he recover?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The nurse took the woman’s hand gently and presented another vial. “This serum will help him recover,” she assured.

But the woman’s heart tightened. Silently, she shook her head, refusing the vial, and carefully laid the patient down on the bed. Visiting hours ended.

Outside the sterile walls, the patient remained trapped—lost somewhere between reality and his restless mind.