The things that hide in the dark... » Places

         Hans stopped dead in his tracks at the appearance of two orderlies before the door, blocking his way out. He backed away as they advanced, hearing the nurse– or the doctor– move behind him. He saw the shadows, reminiscent of the shadows in Christopher's room, pulling back up into the roof of the room. It pulsed, almost sickeningly, like some sort of transparent, boiling tar-pit.

"Hold him down."

Hans threw himself to the side as the orderlies advanced, running for one of the windows in the room. He tried to wrenched it open, but found it locked– as though he wasn't the first one to have that idea since the asylum opened. The orderlies were quick to act and took each their iron grip on his upper arms, dragging him backwards and leaning him over the desk so as to make it harder for him to hurt himself, or anyone else in the room. He looked up to find the nurse advancing with the syringe, and tried to pull himself free of the two men who were, unfortunately, much stronger than him.

"No, no, no," he shook his head, trying to pull away as the needle came closer. "Please, I'll be calm, please."

"Hush," said the nurse. "This will make you feel better."

"You don't understand," he said. "They're so much stronger when you're dreaming–" but it was too late.

As Hans slipped into unconsciousness, the doctor turned to the nurse with a puzzled look. "I'd like to have know what he meant by that," he said.

The nurse shook her head. "He wouldn't have explained it to you. I doubt it meant anything– Hans is generally very quiet, he's just upset about what happened to Christopher."

Seeing she had not convinced the doctor entirely, she added, "Give him some time to grieve and you'll see I'm right. Don't push him."

***
Clarotta's day passed on to early afternoon as she introduced herself to new teachers and was given a thorough introduction into Clarkson's medical department. The third year, someone had said, was always the best year as far as students went. People were just going into training so their spirits weren't broken yet– and they had already managed to rid themselves of anyone who thought they could stomach the profession, but couldn't.

"Here's my suggestion," her new personal tutor leant back behind her desk with a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's going to take years before you're even allowed to try your hand as a brain surgeon. I know that's what you've got your heart set on, and I'm definitely encouraging that but you know– I think you should keep an open mind. No pun intended."

Clarotta snorted.

"The fact of the matter is, this is a small town. Internships fill up quickly, and since you signed up so late..." she hesitated.

"You haven't been able to find me a spot," Clarotta said.

"Not quite. I haven't been able to find you a spot with the surgery department at the local hospital. That leaves me with two choices; I can send you to A&E which means you will never be awake for my class again, or I can send you to the district hospital two hours away, which means you'll likely never even show up to my classes in the first place."

The choices both sounded riveting, which she was sure her face revealed.

"That's why," the tutor paused, "I have elected to take a third option. Now, this is not a permanent solution by any means. I expect a few spots to open up at the surgery department over Christmas and you'll be able to follow your dreams to your heart's content. Either way I think this will be a valuable learning experience for you. I'm sending you to the town morgue."

"You don't think I've been cutting up enough dead people?"

"I know it feels like a downgrade, but I have high hopes. And again, it's not permanent."

Clarotta nodded. "I'll try it."

"I appreciate that," the tutor said. "Don't worry, I think you'll like it there."