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My misery began on what was supposed to be the best day of my life. Monday. April 27th. 

The morning sun woke me up. Shining gently upon my face through my dingy curtains. My bleary eyes blinking and squinting in the morning sun. It was warm, soothing. Like a spotlight from the angels. My eyes darted quickly down to my alarm clock in a moment of panic. But I calmed down as I saw the time. Only 7:20. 10 minutes before I had to get out of bed. 

With a sigh of relief I lowered my head back down onto the pillow. Though I kept my eyes open, just staring towards the sunlight that streamed in. It made my crappy apartment almost look nice. Though the window was cracked, and the walls stained with age old cigarette smoke, those few rays of sunshine did all the work. I always enjoyed the sunshine. It always made me feel better. 

I tried to rest a while longer, but found myself unable to relax. For once I wanted to get out of bed. I wanted to take on the day. 

For today was the first day of the rest of my life. 

I threw back the covers on my worn bed and sat up. My feet dangling down and touching the dirty wooden floor beneath me. I stretched my arms back, feeling the bones in my back pop and crack as I did so. 

A few months ago I had gotten laid off from my job. Not that it was that great of a job anyways. Just a crappy position at the local supermarket. But it had been what was keeping me afloat. Barely.

These last few months had been hell on earth as I scrambled to get a job. My meager savings depleted week after week, month after month as I struggled to pay rent, find food, and keep my car running. It had been a dark time, but like the sunshine through the window this morning, my light had eventually come.

I had been desperate. Applying to any and every job opening I could find. Even ones that sounded awful, even ones that paid like shit, even ones that I knew I wasn’t qualified for. I was throwing anything at the wall to see what would stick.

And to my surprise. One did.

When I woke up on a dreary morning one week ago, and saw a resume response in my email inbox, I had expected it to be one of the shitty positions. Something like the sketchy car wash downtown, or the roach infested gas station of Tiller street.

So imagine my surprise…. When it was a position at a hospital.

And it wasn’t something like a janitor or secretary position either (even though I would’ve readily taken those too). No, it was the position of a medical assistant.

At first I thought it was too good to be true. That it was a mistake. That they had meant to email someone else, or that they had read my resume wrong. I almost scrapped it entirely, but one little voice in the back of my head asked the question. What if?

And so I went with it. I replied, I set up an interview date. And that date was today.

I now stood in my bathroom, staring at myself through the cracked mirror that hung above my dirty sink. I checked my platinum blond hair at least 20 times, brushed my teeth twice, and chose the best outfit I could find…. Which wasn’t exactly much. Just a simple white blouse, with a black skirt and matching jacket. The blouse had a hole in the back, but as long as I kept it tucked in it wasn’t too visible. I didn't own any nice shoes. So I was stuck wearing my dirty old black high tops. They were frayed and the laces were far too long. Since I had stolen them from another pair of shoes long ago.

My confidence was sapping the longer I stared into the mirror. I didn’t look like someone who would work at a hospital. My dull hair with its split ends, my unpainted nails cut at odd angles. Blocky stained teeth with a gap down the middle. My simple, cheap outfit and ugly shoes…. I should be working at a gas station. Not a hospital. Nobody in their right mind would look at me and think “professional”.

“Come on Amanda.” I whispered to the mirror. Staring myself down with a determined appearance. I slapped my face and took a deep breath. “I have to at least try.” I decided with a sharp nod. It would be foolish to not at least show up. Downright stupid to spit in the face of this beautiful opportunity I had been granted.

I decided that was enough dwelling on my appearance. I grabbed my resume, my car keys, my purse and marched out the door. Stopping one last time at the threshold and looking over my shoulder. Looking back to the beautiful sunlight that streamed into my one room apartment.

Fortune had shone upon me today. And I was going to jump at that opportunity with everything I had. 

I sat in my car in the parking lot of Lake Herald General Hospital. Like most things in Lake Herald, the hospital wasn’t all too impressive. A three story building, with ugly beige paint upon its brick walls. And blue tinted windows staring into the cold halls beyond. The large double glass doors that sat at the front were sunken beneath a wide stone awning. One that seemed as imposing as the jaws of a wild beast in that moment.

My eyes darted to the clock on my battered old car. 5 minutes till my interview. 

I had already been there for about fifteen minutes. Waiting and agonizing over whether or not I should go through with this. But I kept my resolve. I owed it to myself to at least try.

As the clock ticked down to four minutes, then three, then two…. I pushed open the door and stepped out. A cold wind blew over me as I exited my car, tossing my already shabby hair into a wild mess.

“Ugh!” I growled, my hands quickly flying up to my head to try and hold my poor attempt at a hairdo in place. I quickly kicked the door of my car closed and ran for the entrance of the hospital. The glass doors, the maw of the beast, yawning open as I stepped inside.

I quickly began attempting to smooth out my hair, wishing I had brought a brush with me. As I was doing this, a shrill voice from behind the receptionist desk called out to me.

“Are you Ms. Amanda Cuttler?” The middle aged woman called out to me, wearing a semi-bored expression on her face. Her dull brown eyes glanced me up and down as I stood in the doorway, fighting with my hair.

“U-Um. Yes ma’am. I am.” I answered. I thought it a bit strange that she knew who I was immediately. But figured they must have looked up a picture of me or something. I mean. Obviously. They probably did a background check, right?

“You’re here for the interview?” She asked, to which I replied with a nod. I walked closer to the desk and cast a glance at the lobby. There were only three other people waiting around. But they looked more like patients than applicants.

“You’re just in time then.” The woman pressed a button beneath her desk, and the double doors to the right of her swung open automatically. “Robert will take you down to The Manager’s office.” The woman nodded to a burly looking security guard who stood on the other side of the doors. Large and muscular with a shaved head and a thick mustache that clung to his upper lip like moss. He looked more like a guard you’d see at a prison than a hospital.

“Thank you.” I nodded to the receptionist. I took a few steps towards the guard, before stopping and turning back. “Um. You’re sure this isn’t some kind of mistake?” I asked nervously. My anxiety got the better of me, convincing me once more that they surely meant to contact someone else.

“The doctor is very trustworthy, dear.” The lady gave a tired smile. “I can guarantee you're not making a mistake. It will all be worth it.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. I opened my mouth to not only clarify what I meant. But to ask what she meant. She didn’t think I was supposed to be a patient here or something, right? But before I could get the words out, Robert spoke up from beyond the doors. His deep voice practically echoing in my bones.

“Come on. You’re wasting time. We don’t have all day.” He turned and started to walk down the hall, my eyes briefly bounced between him and the receptionist. I buried my questions for now, and strode down the hall after Robert. Taking large strides to catch up with him.

I followed along with him, nervously clutching my purse as we passed by rooms upon rooms of patients and doctors. Robert took me all the way to the end of the hall, to the elevator that sat tucked away. I watched as Robert removed a keycard from his pocket and inserted it into a slot above the panel. Then pressed the call button to summon it.

The awkward silence as we waited for the elevator to arrive was palpable. I hated silence. It always bugged me. Rubbed me the wrong way. It felt unnatural, especially when I was with other people. It was a nervous habit of mine. I always had to fill dead air with something. Even if it was just with my own annoying chattering. 

“S-So. Um. How long have you worked here?” I asked, glancing up to meet Robert’s steely blue eyes.

“Ten years.” Came his response. Short and simple.

“Wow. A whole decade. I was still a kid when you started working here.” I gave a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before though. I’ve lived in this town my whole life, so I’ve obviously had to come here once or twice.”

“Must’ve just missed each other.”

Robert wasn’t giving me much in the way of conversation to work with. What in God’s name was taking this damn elevator so long?

“Y-Yeah. Must’ve. Um…. What’s it like working here? Is it exciting? Do you have to get physical with people a lot?” I was genuinely curious. Lake Herald wasn’t exactly an exciting place. It was mostly filled with old people getting away from the winter cold. Snow birds, we called them.

“Depends on the patient.” His flat words killed the conversation this time. It was clear he wasn’t the talkative type, but thankfully I didn’t have to endure the awkwardness much longer. The elevator finally dinged and the doors slid open, revealing an equally sterile interior to the rest of the building. I stepped in alongside Robert, and he pressed the “F4” button.

As the doors slid closed, I felt that sense of unease return to me. Four floors? I thought there were only three…. I tried to search my memories of the few times I had been here in the past, trying to remember if I’d ever been to, or even heard of a fourth floor. But I came up empty handed.

“I didn’t know there were four floors.” I said aloud, mainly to alleviate the pressing silence that had returned to haunt me once more. “From outside it only looks like there’s three.”

“It's easy to miss.”

“What’s on the fourth floor?” I tilted my head, my curiosity getting the better of me. It actually made me forget about my nervousness for just a moment.

“Its where the doctor is.”

“The… Doctor? Which one? Don’t you have multiple?”

“He’s our best. Dr. Afterthought.”

For just a split second, I thought I saw Robert’s hands clench against his arms. As though the very name of this doctor sent a spike of anxiety through him. But I dismissed it as just being in my head.

“I’ve never heard of him. Is he new?”

“No. He’s been here longer than me.” Before the conversation could continue any further, the elevator finally jolted to a halt. The electronic display over the doors finally read “F4”. I had been so preoccupied with keeping a conversation that I hadn’t noticed just how long that ride felt. Far longer than I had anticipated it would be for climbing only four floors. It must’ve been slow. Probably old. I shivered as I imagined it breaking and trapping me in there with scary Robert.

The doors slid open and brought into view the enigmatic fourth floor. It was…. Small. Much smaller than I had anticipated considering the size of the rest of the hospital. It was just a single L shaped hallway. Straight ahead from the elevator there were six doors on either side, with a final 13th door at the very end of the hall. And to the left of the elevator was a much smaller hallway. With two doors on one side, and two on the other.

The halls themselves looked far different than the ones down below. The floors were made from polished black tile. And there were absolutely no windows in the hall. Giving the place a very claustrophobic feel. Made even worse by the flickering of every other light on the ceiling.

I felt something in that moment…. Something I would later come to wish I had listened to. A tightness in my chest, and an outbreak of sweat on my palms. At that moment I chalked it up to nervousness…. But later I would come to realize what it truly was.

Instinctual fear.

Robert led me to the left, taking me down the hall until we stood outside one of the four doors. This one bore a black metal plaque upon its wooden, lacquered surface. In red text it read simply “MANAGER”.

“Go on in.” Robert ordered, standing off to the side with his hands clasped in front of himself.

“Thanks.” I whispered automatically, not even really listening to the words that were coming out of my mouth. My brief reprise from anxiety had long since expired and I was back to dreading every moment of this interview. And the horrid vibe this floor was giving off didn’t help. It felt almost…. Wrong. Like I was doing something illegal.

It's just a hospital. I told myself. Hospitals are trustworthy. It's just because it has no windows. But I mean, how can it? There’s rooms on all sides. I reasoned. Choosing to believe it rather than accept the fact that something was strange about this place.

I could feel Robert’s eyes drilling into the back of my head as I placed my hand on the cold knob of the door. It was as if it were made of solid ice. I gave it a twist and entered the room.

The manager’s office made the hallway feel like a warm meadow by comparison.

It was even more oppressive. Something I had thought impossible mere moments before. The floors, walls, and even the ceiling were all painted a dark black. And the only window in the room, which sat behind the manager’s messy desk, was covered by a bright red curtain.

Sitting in front of said curtain, was a man. I presume the one I was looking for. The Manager. He was a small, almost mouse-like man. The chair he sat in looked too big for him, like it was trying to swallow him up. His stubby arms reached out over the desk, his fingers tapping away viciously at the keyboard in front of him.

He wore a black suit, with a bright red tie. And matching red gloves. His hair was slicked back in a greasy mess, his face no better. His nose stuck out from his face like the beak of some kind of creepy bird. And his eyes squinted behind glasses that looked too small for him. A pencil thin mustache glistened with sweat above his twitching upper lip.

“Are you…. The Mana-” I began to ask, but was cut off by the small man holding up a pudgy finger. Silencing me.

“I will be with you in a moment.” He spoke in an accent that was unfamiliar to me. Without looking up from his computer, he pointed at the chair opposite his desk. “Sit. And wait.” He commanded.

Being in no position to decline, I took my seat on the red chair and crossed my legs. Awkwardly waiting as The Manager typed away at his computer furiously. He was working so intently that I thought the keyboard beneath him might catch fire. The poor thing was so abused and old, that every single symbol upon its key caps had long since worn off. Leaving them as nothing more than shiny black nodules.

The manager suddenly slammed his index finger into the enter button with a sigh of finality. He leaned back in his over-sized chair and laced his fingers together over his stomach. For a few minutes more we sat in silence. Something I was beginning to realize was commonplace among this hospital staff.

Finally, The Manager sat forward in his chair and locked eyes with me.

“Welcome to Lake Herald Hospital, Miss…?”

“Cuttler.” I finished for him, holding out my hand. “A-Amanda Cuttler.” I added nervously as he took my hand in his. Even with the gloves he wore, I could still feel just how cold his hands were beneath the soft fabric. It soaked through it and sent a shiver down my own spine in return. How could someone so cold, be so sweaty?

“Yes. I remember now…. You’re the one the doctor picked out.” The Manager turned back to his computer and clicked a few things with his mouse. Due to the angle of the monitor I couldn’t see what though.

This at least assuaged my fears that I had been chosen by mistake. Though it only opened the door to about a thousand more questions in return.

“The doctor chose me specifically?”

“Yes.” The Manager nodded, turning his squinted eyes back to me. Peering over the rims of his glasses. “He instructed me to reach out to you regarding your application.”

“Any…. Idea why?” I asked with a nervous chuckle. “I-I mean. Not that I’m ungrateful or anything. I just feel like…. There are probably other people that would be more qualified than me? People that have actually…. You know. Gone to medical school?”

The Manager gave a low chuckle. He reached a sweaty hand to his face and slipped his glasses off, folding them and placing them into his breast pocket. “Have no worries, Miss Cuttler. The position we’re hiring for isn’t one that requires intensive medical experience…. All that is required is, at most, basic high school knowledge. And as per your resume…. You have that.”

“I-I do.” I nodded. My high school diploma was about the only thing I had accomplished in my entire 24 years of living. And with how long ago it felt, I doubted I even remembered much more than the basics. “So…. What exactly would I be doing here then?”

“Simply put. You’ll be aiding Dr. Afterthought in his day to day tasks. He’ll be handling the patients, so all you have to do is follow along and do anything else that he hasn’t the time for…. Fetching his charts, filing paperwork, making phone calls…. The like.” The Manager gestured with his hands and struck a sly grin.

I felt my heart sink a little. So the work I’d be doing wasn’t quite as glamorous as I had thought. I don’t know what I expected with my low prospects. But to hear I would basically be doing busy work…. It was a little disheartening.

My disappointment must’ve shown on my face. Because The Manager’s own smile slipped from his. Replaced by a frown of concern.

“Of course…. You don’t have to take the job if you don’t want to.” He gave a shrug and reached slowly for a telephone on his desk. “I’ll just call the doctor and inform him of your decision….”

“NO!” I yelled, a little too suddenly. I quickly retracted and placed my hand over my mouth, embarrassed by my outburst. “I-I mean. No sir. I’ll take it. I’m more than happy to work as the doctor’s assistant. I promise. I’ll do anything he needs me to do.”

The Manager’s hand crept away from his phone as he flashed his gross smile once more.

“Very good. Miss Cuttler.” He gave a slow and deliberate nod. “Very good indeed…. Then in that case, I’m more than happy to oblige the doctor’s wishes and hire you.” He held out his hand. Though I was reluctant to feel that bite of cold once again, I reciprocated his handshake.

“Are you willing to start today, Miss Cuttler?” The Manager asked as he withdrew his hand from mine.

“T-Today?” I was shocked. I didn’t think I’d be starting immediately. Was the doctor that desperate for an assistant?

“Yes. Today.” The Manager repeated with a nod. “Though today will be more of an… Initiation than anything. Introducing you to the doctor and his staff, showing you your duties, and of course, updating your vaccinations.”

I raised an eyebrow at that last part. “My vaccinations? What’s wrong with my vaccinations?”

“Oh, it's nothing, Miss Cuttler. It's just that it's been sometime since you had some of them renewed…. You’re working in a hospital, Miss Cuttler. A state of the art one at that. We encounter many, many different diseases and conditions here. These vaccines are not only for your sake, but the patients too.”

I supposed that made sense. I didn’t have any health insurance, so I hadn’t exactly been to a doctor’s in ages. I had been lucky enough to be naturally healthy most of my adult life.

As if reading my mind, the manager spoke up again. “And of course, these vaccinations will be paid for by the hospital…. Free of charge. Consider them to be part of your employee benefits.” He smiled, before standing up from behind his desk.

“Come now, Miss Cuttler…. I think its time you met our dear Dr. Afterthought.”

The Manager led me from his office and back down the hall I had just come from. Robert was gone by now, so I was left in the oppressive atmosphere with this man alone. While Robert had been silent and stony like a statue, The Manager made too much noise as he walked. He huffed and wheezed as he waddled along. It sounded like he would keel over and stop breathing at any moment. It certainly didn’t help my uneasiness. I couldn’t believe I was actually missing that living statue Robert.

The walk to the doctor’s office took ages. Due entirely to how slow the manager walked. But eventually, we came to another wooden door. This time at the end of the hall opposite from the manager’s office. This one bore an identical plaque. But the name upon it read simply

Dr. Afterthought

No first name or field of medicine. Just his name. And what a strange name it was. I’d never met anyone with a last name like that. But who was I to judge? Cuttler wasn’t exactly common either.

“He’s right in here.” The Manager wheezed out, removing a red handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his greasy brow.

“You’re not coming in?”

“Heavens no. I’m much too busy. Besides, the doctor will handle everything from here. Just do as he says and you’ll do just fine.” The Manager tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket and started to slowly amble away, but not before stopping and turning around.

“For you, Miss Cuttler.” He grinned and held out his hand. There, cupped in his sweaty palm, was a small name tag. Amanda Cuttler.

I took it, though was unable to keep the sheer confusion off my face. “When did you have time to print this?” 

“We had a feeling you’d agree to the job.” The Manager chuckled. “Who would turn down such an offer anyways? Wear the badge. And welcome to the Lake Herald Hospital staff, Miss Cuttler…. We look forward to working with you.” The Manager gave one last nod, before waddling back the way he came.

I stood and watched him for a few moments. Till my eyes were drawn back down to the badge in my hands. It felt odd that they would make the badge in advance. What if I had said no? It would’ve been such a waste. It wasn’t some cheap thing either. Sturdy red metal, with my name engraved in black letters. Like an invert of the door plates. It looked far too fancy for something to be wasted on what was basically an errand girl…. But I guess that’s the perk of working at such a fancy hospital.

I turned my attention back to the door behind me. I wondered just who exactly I would meet on the other side of this door. Dr. Afterthought. My new boss, basically. What would he be like? I sincerely hoped he wasn’t as creepy and gross as The Manager was.

The doorknob was just as icy as the one that led to The Manager’s office. But I twisted it nonetheless. Coming face to face on the other side of the door-

With bones.

Lots. And lots. Of bones.

The room was dominated by skeleton models. They sat upon every table, stood against the walls, and hung from the ceiling. There were animals and humans alike. I saw more animals than I could count, and about four humans lined up against the back walls. Even though I was in a hospital, where one might expect these sorts of things, it still caught me off guard…. I was at least relieved to see that there was at least a window in this room. Though the glass seemed tinted to let in less light, it was at least a glimpse of the outside world.

I was so preoccupied by the sheer magnitude of skeletons in the room that I almost missed him at first. That lanky, gaunt figure that poured over a microscope on a table in the far corner of the room. It wasn’t until he stood up that I properly registered his existence.

The man, whom I presumed to be the doctor, was tall. Easily 6 foot. With a thin, wiry build beneath his clothes. As he turned away from his microscope, I caught my first look at his face. His cheeks sunken in, and eyes with bags so deep that it almost looked like makeup. His hair was a pinkish color, with graying edges and his eyes sat hidden behind a pair of round, red lens glasses. They matched nicely with his black scrubs and red lab coat.

As he spotted me, a small smile spread across his face. He gestured me in and stepped away from his microscope. I did as I was told and entered the room, the door softly clicking shut behind me. 

“You must be Amanda Cuttler.” The doctor spoke to me as he approached. His voice was warm and smooth. It soothed some of the discomfort I had felt since arriving on this floor. It was a good voice for a doctor. A voice that exuded confidence.

“That’s me, yep. You’re Dr. Afterthought?” I asked, holding out my hand to shake his. Though he merely stared at it. Before bringing his eyes back up to mine. I awkwardly let it lower back to my side.

“I am. It's good to meet you. My apologies for not shaking your hand…. I merely don’t like to touch people unless it's necessary for the practice.” He tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, its no problem. I understand.”

“Well, I certainly am glad to have you here Miss Cuttler.” Dr. Afterthought smiled as he slowly turned around, and began walking to a desk in the corner. One that I hadn’t even seen at first since it was covered from end to end in books, papers, and bones.

I followed him, carefully stepping around the model skeletons that littered the room. The doctor noticed and gave a low laugh.

“I apologize again. I’m not used to having other people in here. You must excuse my models…. They are a favorite hobby of mine.” Dr. Afterthought took a seat behind the desk, folding his hands and leaning forward as I took mine across from him. 

“It's certainly…. Unique.” I gave a polite smile as I stared into the eyes of a skeleton squirrel a few feet away. “Are they…?”

“Real? Yes. Very. Even the humans.” He added with a sly glint in his eyes. When I failed to contain my horrified expression, he broke into another laugh and waved me off. “Relax, Miss Cuttler. They’re very legal. I assure you. Many doctors keep real skeletons around…. They’re good for cross reference.”

“I-I see.” Even though I still thought they were creepy as hell. “S-So…. The Manager said I would basically be your assistant?” I questioned, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the legally creepy skeletons.

“Yes, indeed. I need someone that I can trust to aid me in my examinations, studies, and any other tasks that I encounter throughout the day.” Dr. Afterthought tapped his fingers together. Due to the glasses hiding his eyes, it was difficult for me to tell where he was looking.

“It is a very demanding job, Miss Cuttler.” He added after a brief pause. “Most do not last in this line of work. You will be working many late nights here with me. And be taking on tedious, and sometimes grueling work. I need to know you are up to the task before officially signing you on.”

For just a moment, my shoulders sagged. I didn’t exactly like the idea of working late nights handling whatever menial tasks this guy didn’t want to handle himself…. But the briefest thought of sleeping on a park bench or begging for food from strangers snapped me back into place.

I sat up straight in my chair and looked the doctor in the eyes. “I’m up to the task sir. Anything you need I will provide. I promise you, I won’t disappoint. I’ll work as late as needed and handle whatever is necessary.” I gave a sharp nod.

“Good! Now of course, I assume you want to hear about your pay?” The doctor’s warm smile returned. And I responded with one of bashful embarrassment. 

“It…. Would be nice.” I giggled. “I didn’t want to ask and sound rude…. B-But I would like to ensure I’m getting paid an appropriate amount. I need at least a livable wage.”

“Of course. Don’t we all? I would never underpay an employee. Especially not someone as important as you, my assistant.” The doctor rifled through his stacks of papers until he finally found a scrap he could use. He withdrew a pen from his pocket and quickly scribbled a few numbers onto the page.

“Do you feel this is an appropriate pay?” He asked, sliding the paper across the desk in my direction.

As my eyes skimmed the paper, I felt my voice catch in my throat. I read it again, and then twice more. Even counting the number of zeroes that were written. Just to ensure myself that I wasn’t misunderstanding the amount of money I’d be making.

I looked up to the doctor with sheer and utter shock upon my face. Trying to find words to even structure my next sentence.

“A-Are you serious?” I finally managed to get out.

The doctor’s face crumpled. His brow furrowing and deep lines of concern etching themselves onto his face. “Is it too low?” He asked simply.

“N-No! No! Not at all!” I shook my head emphatically. “I-Its actually much bigger than I was expecting! I-I wanted to make sure you were really certain about paying me so much!”

“Yes, of course. Like I said, this job is demanding. And I want to ensure that my employees get paid fairly for the work they do.”

“I-I don’t know what to say. Yes. Yes, thank you. Thank you so much. This would be more than a fine salary. I promise you won’t be disappointed with my work!” I clutched the scrap paper to my chest as though it were my own child. Struggling to keep the tears from flowing out of my eyes. I didn’t want to cry like a baby in front of my new boss. But it was hard to control myself! I could never even have imagined making so much money. I wasn’t even sure what I’d do with all that cash.

Dr. Afterthought’s face returned to its happy expression as he reciprocated my excited nod.

“Splendid.” He said with a grin. “Then I’ll just need you to sign this contract here.” The doctor reached into his upper right hand drawer and withdrew a piece of paper. Planting it down in front of me, alongside the pen he used moments prior.

I’d never signed a contract before. It might as well have been written in gibberish. The large, confusing words, coupled with the nearly microscopic font size, made it impossible for me to tell exactly what I was agreeing to.

“Um….” I bit my lip as I looked up at the doctor.

“Problem?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean. No. But uh…. What exactly am I agreeing to here?” I asked at the risk of sounding like a moron.

“Nothing too extreme. Simply that you’ll be my assistant and preserve confidentiality. Nothing you see within these walls is to be repeated elsewhere…. This is a hospital after all. We have privacy to uphold.”

“I understand.” I nodded as my eyes scanned the contract. I wished I had a lawyer to read this. But even if I had the money, I didn’t want to waste any time out of fear they might find someone else to take this job.

“That’s it?” I asked him.

“That’s it. You’re not selling your soul or anything.” He chuckled.

I looked back at him nervously, before picking up the pen before me. But right as I was about to lower the tip to the page, he spoke up once again.

“Oh. And that you’ll keep your vaccinations and medications up to date. Of course.” He added suddenly.

“Right. The Manager mentioned that.” I paused before signing my name. “He said the hospital will cover it. Is that true?”

“Yes. We’ll handle your medication and vaccines. There is nothing to fear in that regard.”

Enough stalling, I figured. With that much money, any tasks they had me do would be worth it. Even if I had to file papers all day for the rest of my life. I scribbled my name onto the page in bright red ink. Before I could even put the pen down, Dr. Afterthought reached out and snatched the contract up in his hand.

“Thank you very much, Miss Cuttler.” He slipped the paper back into the desk drawer from whence it came. And smiled in my direction once again. “Are you willing to start today, Miss Cuttler?”

I took a steady breath. Now that I had signed it, now that all this pre-work was through. I was feeling a lot better. A lot more confident in my decision. This was going to change my life for the better. I would never need to worry about money ever again.

I returned the doctor’s warm smile and nodded.

“I can begin right away sir.”

Dr. Afterthought stood up from his desk and I stood along with him.

“Very well…. First things first.” He started to walk towards the door, gesturing for me to follow him.

“Let us begin with your vaccination.”

A few moments later I was sitting on an exam table in the next hallway over. Room #12 to be exact. The one at the very end of the hallway. I’m not sure why we had to go down here, and couldn’t use the others, but maybe they were booked or dirty or something. At least the room was a lot more normal looking than The Manager’s or Dr. Afterthought’s office. It looked like any standard medical examination room. Though the black wallpaper was a bit odd. I made a mental note to ask why everything seemed to be black and red up here. Maybe it was just the theme. Though nothing downstairs looked even remotely like this.

“This won’t take long. There’s only one thing we need to give you.” The doctor explained as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and slipped a mask over his face. He held in his hand a massive needle. And I mean massive. It wasn’t the ordinary kind you would see in any old doctor’s office. It looked more old fashioned than that. Its handle fashioned from steel, with two large finger holes at the end. The needle was long, but thankfully not thick.

“Um…. A-And what exactly is it I need?” My voice shook with nerves as I watched the doctor insert the syringe into a tube of yellowish fluid. A paper label was stretched across the tube. With the words typed upon it “INFLUENZA VACCINE A.T.”

The doctor cast me a glance, and gave a small laugh behind his face mask. Between the glasses and the mask, it made him look alien. Inhuman.

“It's just a flu vaccine, nothing to be concerned about. Have you ever had one before?” He extracted the plunger and drew the liquid up into the glass body of the syringe. Then stepped closer and swabbed at my arm with alcohol.

“N-No. I never felt the need to…. Is that what they all look like?”

“The liquid? Yes. If you mean the syringe, then no.” He came closer and readied his hand on the grip of the needle. “This is just my personal equipment. Its sturdier and more reliable than the ones you can get mass produced.” He stuck the needle into my arm, making me flinch as the sharp pain bit into me. My arm tingled and buzzed as the doctor slowly injected me with the fluid.

“I see…. It just looks a little scary is all.” I chuckled quietly, keeping my eyes averted from my arm. I never did like shots. The idea of being stabbed and injected always filled my head with thoughts of giant bugs or creepy crawlies. And Dr. Afterthought’s…. Unique….. Choice in tools certainly didn’t help.

“There!” He pulled back and quickly popped a Bugs Bunny bandage over my arm. “All ready to go. You might feel some fatigue, or increased appetite for a while. While your body adjusts to the serum. Feel free to take a break if you need it.”

The doctor popped the needle off of his syringe and dropped it into a biohazard bag, while placing the metal handle of the device to the side to be sterilized later.

“Now then.” He turned back to me, lowering his mask and giving me a toothy smile. “Let’s get to work.”

******

I stumbled back into my apartment at around 8PM. Exhausted. Tired. Famished. Today was brutal. Not only did the doctor keep me busy and on my feet every second of the day, but the vaccine I had been given was really wearing me down. I took a few breaks every now and then, as Dr. Afterthought suggested. But never for too long. I didn’t want him to think I was slacking off.

I continued my way into my kitchenette, fishing a bowl of leftover mashed potatoes from my fridge and hastily shoving it into the microwave. I punched in the timer, and leaned back against the counter as I waited for my food to cook.

I could see my tired face in the reflection of the microwave’s glass door. I really did look tired. Bags forming under my eyes already. And my hair, which was tied back in a loose ponytail, was sticking out in odd, messy angles.

As soon as the microwave beeped, I yanked the bowl out and took it to my small one person table a few feet away. Plopping down in my chair, I hastily began to eat. Not even bothering to add salt or pepper, just digging right in. I was absolutely famished. As Dr. Afterthought had warned me.

Within moments I had finished the potatoes and sat back. Downing a glass of water rapidly. I slammed the empty cup down on the table with a sigh.

“Guess I understand why this job doesn’t keep people for very long….” I mumbled, letting my eyes drift up to the cracked ceiling above, where my fan lazily circled. A sly grin formed over my face as I thought about the money. The sweet cash I was doing all this for. It would make these long days and tireless work worth it.

My stomach grumbled again. I was still hungry it seemed, but I didn’t really have anything here to eat. Not anything that would satisfy anyways…. But soon, soon I’d be able to eat anything I wanted!

Partly to avoid my desperate stomach, and partly because I was just plain tired, I decided to turn into bed early. Crawling beneath my sheets and letting my heavy eyes close as I listened to the sounds beyond my window. Wind howling and the occasional passing by of cars on the street below. The mundane, but homey, noises slowly lulled me into a deep and dreamless slumber.

I awoke the next morning to my blaring alarm. 6AM. I rolled over and slapped its off button. My face pressed into the pillow as I gave a deep sigh. My body was still exhausted from the day before. Arms and legs aching, especially where the vaccine was injected. But I had heard from people before that it was normal to experience cramps after a flu shot…. Not to mention how hard I had worked yesterday.

I eventually forced myself out of bed, going about my morning routine. Showering, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed in my new uniform. Red scrubs that matched everyone else at the hospital floor I worked on. I pinned my nametag on and looked myself over in the mirror. Smiling and brushing my hair back over my shoulders. My eyes still had deep bags beneath them…. I worried it would make me look unprofessional.

Unprofessional. Unprofessional this, unprofessional that. It seemed like it was all my mind was able to think about since getting that job. I was desperate not to lose it. Not yet. Not when I had such good things on the horizon.

I reached for my makeup bag, digging around in it until I pulled out a tub of concealer. A little of this and, presto! Eye bags be gone.

I swiped some of the foundation onto my index finger, but as I lifted it to my eye…. I paused. I hadn’t noticed it till now. It was my finger nail. The one on my right index finger.

Or more specifically, the two of them on my right index finger.

I pulled my hand away and looked at it more intently. Thinking at first it must’ve just been a trick of perspective. But as I held it up to the light, it became apparent it was no mere illusion. I had two fingernails on my index finger.

There was the normal one, the one that lay flush against my finger. But then there was this new one. This second one. It jutted out from an odd angle on my nail bed. Hanging over my original nail like some sort of ramp.

I’d never, ever seen something like that before. I’d had ingrown nails or broken nails, but that wasn’t what this was. This was a fully formed, second finger nail.

I checked my left hand. No second nail there. Only on my right.

I pinched the second nail between my left index finger and thumb and gave it a tug. It didn’t hurt like I might have expected, but it didn’t come loose either. Just a dull ache. Similar to an ingrown nail.

There was no time for me to deal with this right now. After chalking it up to a strange enigma of the human body, I chopped it off with my nail clippers. The edge of it was still visible right above my normal nail, but there wasn’t much I could do about it now. It’d have to stay there until I could afford a trip to a nail salon.

“Which will be in no time thanks to this job.” I giggled happily.

Speaking of which, I needed to get moving. I quickly threw on my make up, grabbed my purse, and rushed out the door.

******

“Oh, there you are Miss Cuttler.” The receptionist commented as I rushed into the hospital. “I was starting to wonder if you’d be showing up today. I’ll clock you in. Just head on up.”

“Thank you so much.” I spoke through short breaths. I had run from the parking lot in an attempt to not be late. I was going to have to start getting up earlier if I wanted to be here with time to spare….

I headed through the side door just like yesterday, passing by the stoic security guard who attended me to The Manager’s office. But today all I received was a curt nod, before I went on my way. Which was fine by me…. I didn’t feel like trying to wring conversation from a stone.

As I arrived at the elevator I fished my ID badge from my purse. I had been given it yesterday before leaving the office and was told I would need this to get back to the top floor.

Just like Robert had done the day prior, I inserted it into the slot above the panel. And then pressed the call button. The oddity of the situation wasn’t lost on me. The fourth floor was treated with such high security around here that I obviously had to wonder why. Were the patients of Dr. Afterthought really that high of a priority?

The ding of the elevator broke me from my thoughts. I stepped into the carriage that took me up, up, and up. To the place of my new work. The doors opened and I stepped out onto the red and black themed floor. Immediately walking down the hall and into Dr. Afterthought’s office.

“Good morning, doctor. I’m-” I began to speak up, but halted in my tracks when I found that the doctor wasn’t the only person in the room.

A woman stood next to him. She was lanky and gaunt. Looking more like a skeleton than a woman. Her eyes were sunken and her cheeks were shallow. Lips drawn tight into a thin line. Her wispy white hair tied back in a high ponytail. She wore scrubs that hung upon her thin form as if they were 10 sizes too big. In her bony hands she held a clipboard. And tagged to the breast of her clothes was a shiny nametag. “Nurse Typha”.

The nurse glared at me as I barged in, but Dr. Afterthought gave me a warm smile and gestured for me to enter.

“Amanda! Glad you’re here. You made it past the 24 hour mark! Congratulations, really.” Dr. Afterthought clapped me on the shoulder as I approached him, pulling me in close and waving to the gaunt, intimidating looking woman.

“Amanda, this is Nurse Typha. She’s my primary nurse I use for my patients.” The doctor explained. “She’s been working with me for….” He paused and scratched his head, eyes narrowing behind his circular shades. “Been so long I can’t really remember, I suppose.”

“Because it does not matter.” The nurse’s voice was cold and as sharp as she looked. “I doubt you’ll make it a full week.” The nurse scoffed.

I felt myself bristle. Was I really going to have to work for this shrewd old woman? She probably thought everyone else was beneath her due to her seniority. She looked like the type, anyway.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to surprise you.” Was what came from my mouth. Even though I wanted to bite back and make some snide comment, I knew better. I was still new here. And in a position that could probably see me easily replaced.

The nurse looked past me and back to the doctor. “Has she had her medication?” She asked him as though I were some kind of animal at the vet. Incapable of answering for myself.

“Yes. The doctor gave me my flu vaccination yesterday. If that’s what you’re referring to.” I proudly responded before the doctor could. Feeling the need to assert myself before her. If I let her walk all over me, she would. I knew her type.

Typha’s lips curled into a nasty facsimile of a smile. Showing off her rows of crooked and stained teeth. “Good to know, Ms. Cuttler.” Typha turned and hoisted something off the doctor’s desk. She shoved a massive stack of paperwork into my arms. Around the size of a phonebook. I heaved as I struggled to keep the stack balanced in my cradled embrace.

“Since you’re so eager to work, you can do this for me. They’re just simple medical forms that need to be sorted by date, name, and provider. You can do that, can’t you?”

“O-Of course I can.” I stood back up straight and tall, giving a defiant and confident nod to the nurse.

“That’s the spirit.” Dr. Afterthought slapped me on the back again, nearly making me drop my paperwork mountain. “Anywhoways, Typha and I have some patients to attend to.”

“Indeed. Good luck, Miss Cuttler.” Typha sneered as the two of them began to walk away. Talking in hushed tones. The only words I was able to make out were “Room #3”. Must be the patient’s room, I decided.

I sat down at the only empty desk, surrounded on all sides by those creepy skeletons. The paperwork caused the whole thing to rock and shake as I let it slam down. My eyes wandered over it, my shoulders slumping as I realized just how much work this was going to be.

“Might as well get started….” I muttered bitterly to myself. Stupid old hag.

Working on the paperwork was as slow as I expected. Made even worse by the fact that my index finger hurt when I applied pressure to it. I wondered if it was caused by the fingernail incident earlier. I hoped desperately that it wasn’t going to get ingrown or infected or something.

The paperwork was dull and dry. Each paper melding into the next in my mind. Time crept past, slowly slipping away like a syrup through my fingers. Sifting, shifting, sorting. On and on. The stack seemingly never ending.

I glanced at the clock. Only 9AM.

I sighed and returned to the papers. Observing, organizing, ordering.

More time passed. It felt like hours. But the clock read 9:15.

Back to the stack. Reading, reaching, recognizing.

Recognizing.

A pattern.

The more I sorted, the more I read, the more I realized that 98% of this stack was about one singular patient. A man named Albert Daphne, a former nurse, turned janitor, it looked like. The oldest paper here was from a few months ago when he got a cortisone shot to help his knee pain. A few days later he was admitted to the hospital. Most of what was written and typed across the hundreds of pages was completely lost on me. The medical jargon might as well have been another language. I could only pick out a few things from what I read.

Mr. Daphne was admitted to Dr. Afterthought’s care due to some kind of problem with his blood. “Elite Polycythemia A.T.”. I only knew about polycythemia because my aunt had it before she died. Though I’d never heard of elite polycythemia “A.T.” before. It must’ve been an advanced version of it.

******

It felt like lunch would never arrive. I was finished with the stack of paperwork by noon. I’d turned it into Nurse Typha. And what had I received for my work? A sour glare and you only just now finished? I’d known that woman for less than a day and I already couldn’t stand her.

I tried to push it from my mind. I didn’t want to spend my lunch break stewing over a workplace rival. I was utterly starving beyond belief. I’d brought my own lunch, and had been daydreaming of it ever since I’d arrived. Even though it was just a ham sandwich and a small bag of chips.

I had arrived at the employee break room and was about to enter, but who should I see through the glass window? None other than Nurse Typha herself. Sitting near one of the windows, eating her own lunch.

My stomach curled at the sight. I didn’t want to eat in the same room as her. Maybe it was petty or juvenile, but I didn’t care. She was the last person I even wanted to think about right now.

I turned on my heel and walked away, lunchbox still in hand. If I couldn’t eat in the breakroom up here, I figured I may be able to eat downstairs. Surely this wasn’t the only break room in the building.

Sure enough, I’d found another one on the first floor after a few minutes of searching. I figured this one must be for regular hospital employees. Since to even get to the fourth floor you needed one of those special key cards.

The break room was almost a shock to my system. After being upstairs in the predominantly black and red halls, the mostly white hospital break room was a much needed change. The other nurses and assistants that milled about here all wore standard blue and teal hospital scrubs. My red and black made me feel like I was out of place. Like I was a piece of the fourth floor that had been peeled up and stuck down here.

As I approached one of the tables I noticed that the chatter in the room died to a hush. Eyes followed me as I sat down. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It felt as though every pair of eyes in the room was upon me. Was it because I was new?

I stole a look at my red and black scrubs.

Or because I stood out?

I felt even less comfortable down here than I had been with Nurse Typha. I almost wish I had just sucked it up and ate in the break room. Tomorrow I certainly would.

I ate as fast as I could. Of course because I wanted to get out of that room, but also because I really was just that hungry. It felt like I hadn’t eaten in days. Within moments my entire sandwich and bag of chips was devoured. But I was still left unsatisfied. My stomach growled again, demanding I feed it more. The snack vending machine in the corner of the room was looking particularly enticing.

A glance at my watch revealed I still had 10 minutes before my lunch break was over. It was enough time for a snack, I decided. The chair squeaked against the tile floor as I pushed it back. My stomach gave another growl, as if egging me on towards my goal.

There was a woman already at the vending machine. So I stood behind her, my money ready in my hand. I watched on as she selected her snack and waited. I saw it happen in real time. Her eyes met mine in the glass reflection.

I could’ve sworn I saw a shiver go down her spine.

She grabbed her bag of chips and hurried out of the way. Her eyes staring down at the floor as she brushed past me. I just stood for a moment. Registering what happened. The heat rose to my face in embarrassment and frustration. What was this? High school? I didn’t expect medical professionals to be so judgemental and clique-y.

My bad mood that I’d had before lunch returned. Today was just not going my way. First that bitchy nurse, now all these jerks down here acting like a bunch of teenagers. I was fucking starving and my finger was STILL hurting.

I jammed my two dollars into the machine and angrily pressed the B3 button. Causing a Snickers bar to cascade down and drop into the box below. I thanked my lucky stars that it didn’t get stuck somewhere along the way. Otherwise I think I might’ve had an actual meltdown. As I knelt to pick up my candybar I heard someone speak up behind me.

“Sorry for how everyone is acting.”

I jumped a little, quickly shooting back up and whipping around. I found a familiar face behind me. The receptionist. Her hands crossed behind her back, and a polite smile upon her face.

“Sorry for scaring you.” She chuckled, walking past me and operating the snack machine herself. “I just figured you’d probably have realized how everyone was acting towards you.”

“I have.” I took a glimpse behind me at the rest of the room. Although no one was staring at me anymore, I could still feel their judgemental attitudes. “I didn’t think everyone here would be so rude.”

“Usually they aren’t. It's just because of…. Well, you know.” She gestured up and down at my body. “Who you work for and all.”

So I’d been right. My clothes really did make me stand out down here.

“Why does that matter? What’s wrong with Dr. Afterthought?”

The snack machine rattled as a bag of chips clattered down and landed in the tray below. “Just rumors. People around here like to gossip.” The receptionist snatched the bag from the machine before turning around to face me. “And since Dr. Afterthought likes to keep to himself he’s ripe for that kind of thing.”

“Well what does that have to do with me? I just work for the guy.” I crossed my arms. This explanation wasn’t really helping much. Just painting the other employees in a different kind of negative light.

“There’s lots of rumors around about the doctor and the people he employs. They’re all just that, rumors. But people have it in their heads that you folks do messed up things on that fourth floor. It doesn’t help that you can’t go up without clearance from Dr. Afterthought himself.”

“That’s because it's got high priority and high risk patients.” I was growing exasperated by the situation fast. “I had to get shots before I could even work up there.”

“I know, I know.” The receptionist put up her hands defensively. “I’m not the one spreading the rumors. But everyone else seems to think he’s up to nefarious deeds up there. And since you work for him-”

“They think I’m some kind of accomplice.” I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. I’d only been here for a day and a half but even so I couldn’t imagine Dr. Afterthought doing anything of the sorts. He seemed like a nice guy. Helpful, kind. Much nicer than that shrewd Nurse Typha anyways.

“Yep. Exactly that. They’re the same way towards anyone who wears those red and black scrubs.” The receptionist passed by me, patting me on the shoulder. “But don’t you worry about that dear. Dr. Afterthought is the best doctor around.”

I watched the receptionist leave the room. The whole interaction left a bad taste in my mouth. I was suddenly glad that I worked in a more secluded area of the hospital. I couldn’t imagine working with such judgmental people. I’d take one bad co-worker over a whole building of them any day.

As I returned to the fourth floor though, I just couldn’t help but linger on what had happened. It was all so odd. As my frustration with everyone began to diminish, I started to reflect more upon the situation.

I mean really, how much did I know about Dr. Afterthought? Not much, that's for sure. He didn’t seem like he was nefarious, but how true was that? Maybe he was just a good actor…. After all, how could rumors spread so fast if there weren’t at least some truth to them?

I shook my head rapidly and slapped my cheeks. Snapping myself out of my negative spiral. I couldn’t think like that. That’s exactly the kind of mentality that led the people downstairs into being the way they are. Rude and cruel people.

I tried to tell myself to ignore it and move on. Tried to return to my mundane work. But try as I might, my mind kept returning to those rumors and gossip. What exactly were they? I wanted to know. I wanted to know what was being said about the guy I was now working for.

I wanted to know if I was in any danger.

But I refused. For one, I doubted that anyone downstairs would even feel comfortable talking to me for long enough to tell me. But more importantly it was because it felt like giving in. To go crawling back and asking about the rumors, to go down to that receptionist or whoever I could find and try to wring gossip from them…. It felt like giving into my fear. The fear that I had been trying so very hard to repress since I arrived in this strange hospital.

But there was a compromise. An easy one. I may not be able to ask about the rumors, but there was someone I could talk to. Someone who could curb my curiosity about Dr. Afterthought and his background.

The good doctor himself.

It wasn’t until late that night that I found the chance to talk to the doctor.

The entire day had been busy. From the second I came back from lunch I had not a moment’s rest. I had paperwork to do, calls to make, supplies to refill. You wouldn’t think that such a small office would have so much to do.

If I was this busy, I could only imagine how busy Dr. Afterthought was. And indeed, I rarely saw him throughout the day. Only catching glimpses of him as he darted from room to room in the patients hall. Though, I never saw a patient leave any of the rooms. I assumed they must all be staying at the hospital for extended periods of time.

I didn’t see The Manager much either. He seemed to remain closed up in his tiny office all hours of the day. I hadn’t even seen him arrive this morning. Were it not for the lights on in his office, I would’ve assumed he wasn’t even here.

But of course, just my luck. I saw plenty of Nurse Typha. With Dr. Afterthought so busy, she was usually the one that gave me my orders and told me what tasks to do.

It wasn’t until 8PM that things had finally slowed down. Most of the patients had been taken care of and we were mostly just finishing up our work for the evening. Nurse Typha had already departed. Which gave me a perfect opportunity to be alone with the doctor.

We were seated in his office. The room illuminated by the soft glow of the lights overhead. Dr. Afterthought sat at his cramped desk, signing some papers that I had laid out for him earlier. While I sat at a table nearby, sorting and stapling faxes together. And arranging them by patient.

The room was quiet and the atmosphere was calm. I figured this may as well be the perfect chance to talk to him.

“I went down to the break room today.” I started off. “The one on the first floor.”

“Oh?” The doctor looked up from his paperwork. Peering at me over his red spectacles. “And…. How was it?” The way he asked made me think he was aware of the rumors spread about him. I mean. How would he not be?

“Not the best. Everyone was pretty rude to me down there. The receptionist-”

“Caprice?” Dr. Afterthought asked with a tilt of his head. He made me realize that I never really asked her name. But I only ever saw one receptionist down there. So I had to assume it was her.

“Yes, her. Anyways, she mentioned that the other employees at the hospital don’t think very…. Highly of you.”

The doctor gave a light chuckle. Removing his red spectacles and rubbing his tired eyes, before slipping them back on. “Yes, that is the truth of it. Honestly maybe even an understatement. I am not popular here at all. And I am sorry if that stigma rubbed off on you any.”

“Yeah, they gave me a pretty cold shoulder. Those rumors must be pretty vicious if it makes them not only dislike you, but anyone that works for you.” I carefully watched the doctor’s face as I pushed further and further towards the questions I wanted to ask. It felt a little silly. Like I was pretending to be a detective or something. In truth, I really didn’t know what I was looking for. Some sort of sign that I was broaching a forbidden topic. A twitch of the eye or curl of the lips. Something to tell me I was barking up the wrong tree. But the doctor remained as friendly looking as ever.

“Yes. I suppose they are.” Dr. Afterthought gave a laugh and shook his head. He leaned back in his chair, the old thing creaking on its hinges like a dying animal. The doctor reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a box of cigarettes and a lighter. I knew for a fact the hospital was a no smoking zone, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I got the feeling the doctor was allowed to do as he pleased around here.

“Have you heard the one about me being immortal?” Dr. Afterthought asked casually as he lit his cigarette and popped it into his mouth. “They think I bring patients up here, dissect them, and then eat them. Or the one about me being some kind of government agent.” The doctor tilts the box of cigarettes towards me. I graciously accept a smoke.

“I didn’t hear any of them. But those all sound so outlandish.” I took a drag of the cigarette and held back a cough. I wasn’t a smoker. It just felt like the thing to do at the moment. “Do-” I cleared my throat as my eyes water. “Do people really believe that?”

“Yep. Everyone down there believes something of the sorts like that. Some are more extreme than others. Some think I’m a demon, some just think I’m an antisocial quack. I don’t bother to correct them. It's not worth my time.” He takes another long inhale from his cigarette. The orange embers burned faintly as he let the gray smoke flow from his mouth.

“I was actually wondering if you could set some of them straight for me, doctor.” I finally asked the question I’d been building to.

The doctor raised an eyebrow and sat forward in his chair. Leaning onto the desk, elbows raised. His red glasses hid his eyes from me. In that moment, in the dark office, with his red clothes and the smoke curling around his head…. I could see why some would think him otherworldly.

“Taking stock in the rumors, are you? Miss Cuttler?” While his tone hadn’t changed outwardly, still carrying that cool and calm demeanor, something seemed different about it. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or offended. Had I finally crossed the line?

“N-No sir.” I quickly stammered. It was like I could feel the pressure rising around me as he stared me down. “I was just-” I swallowed, my throat dry. Was it from the cigarette, or from fear? “I was just curious is all. They got me wondering about you…. Made me realize I didn’t really know anything about my boss.”

The doctor stared at me for a moment more, the cigarette pinched between his lips dripping ash upon the desk before him. The silence began to stretch on, making me even more unnerved. I had the urge to fill it. To say something. I was about to apologize, when the doctor spoke up first.

“I see.” Dr. Afterthought’s voice still carried that strange tone. “I suppose that is only natural.” He pushed himself up from his chair and stepped around the desk. His lab coat trailing behind him like red fog. “Well, what do you want to know?” He stood next to the nearest bookshelf now, leaning upon it and facing me.

“Um.” I froze. I hadn’t exactly expected to get this far.

“If you mean to ask if I really am a demon, the answer is no.” The doctor cracks a sly smile.

“N-No. Of course not. I’m not superstitious like that. I just…. Can I ask where you came from? Where did you live before moving here? And what did you do before becoming a doctor?”

“I lived in England for most of my childhood actually. But eventually, my parents passed and I was left alone.” Dr. Afterthought removes his cigarette, holding it in his hands. He blows the smoke upward, his eyes following it as it floats to the ceiling. “Had nothing left over there, so I decided to come here. Fresh start. Lots of people were doing it then…. One thing led to another and eventually I found my interest in medicine when I was in the military.”

“You were in the military?” I try to keep the shock and, frankly, amusement out of my voice. But failed horribly as I couldn’t help but give a small laugh.

“What’s so funny?” The doctor raised his eyebrow. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter.

“Nothing. It's just…. You don’t seem like the type.” It was quite hard for me to imagine lanky, scrawny, weird Dr. Afterthought in the military of any kind.

“Well, it was the best thing for me to do back then. I discovered my love of medicine, and the rest is history. Shall we leave it at that? I don’t quite feel like diving into my full biography at such a late hour.”

Dr. Afterthought held up his wrist and glanced at his watch. Inspiring me to do the same with my phone. 8:30PM. It really was getting late. I was picking up on his signals, but I wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet. I didn’t know when next I’d find an opportunity like this. To speak with him alone, one on one.

“What’s with the colors? And the whole fourth floor in general. It's so…. Different. From literally any hospital I’ve ever been in.” Another question that had been bugging me for so long.

“Ah. I was wondering when that one would come.” The doctor laughs and crosses the room to a refrigerator nearby, throwing it open and digging around inside. My curiosity is piqued as I watch him pull from the fridge…. A vial of blood marked with the initials “A.D.”.

“Tell me, Miss Cuttler.” He approaches and holds out the vial to me. “What is this?”

“It's…. Blood….?” I answer, completely puzzled by what this was supposed to mean. It felt so random.

“Indeed. And what color is it?”

“.... Red?” I was starting to see where this conversation was going.

“Correct.” Dr. Afterthought stores the vial back into the refrigerator. “Colors are powerful things. They can invoke emotions in someone by just glancing at them. Colors are a language all their own. A way to communicate without words. Something anyone, even children, can understand.”

“Colors have meaning. The color red, for example. It symbolizes life and love. The color of blood, the very substance that breathes life to everything on this planet. And as for black. That represents death. The end. The unknown. Mourning…. So you put the two together and you get….?” Dr. Afterthought waved his hand, beckoning me to answer as though he were my school teacher.

“Life and death?”

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, giving a snap of his fingers for emphasis. “I would give you an A+ in color theory if I were a professor. Hospitals, naturally, are a place that bridges the gap between life and death. People are born here, saved here, and die here. And the colors of the fourth floor, and our uniforms, reflect that.”

I nodded along with the doctor politely. Although I could understand where he was coming from on paper, in practice it…. Left more to be desired. Although the colors were symbolically sound, I felt like they didn’t really work in such a scary environment. The harsh red and deep blacks, coupled with the lack of windows, really just gave the place a menacing feel.

At least he had good intentions with it. But still…. You’d think the hospital director would’ve stepped in and prevented such…. Drastic changes to the hospital and its uniform. The whole thing only raised more questions in my mind. Like why did it seem like Dr. Afterthought was able to just run wild up here? It felt like a violation of so many codes, on so many levels.

But before I could ask any more questions, the doctor extinguished his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. With a long exhale he blew the last dregs of smoke from his mouth before picking up his briefcase.

“I think that is enough for tonight, Miss Cuttler.” He said as he closed his desk drawers and began to flick off the lights.

“For work, or for asking questions?” I asked in return. I joined him in gathering my things and getting ready to leave. I grabbed my purse and lunch box. Favoring my left hand due to the pain in my index finger.

Dr. Afterthought looked back at me and smiled his toothy grin. “Perhaps a bit of both.”

I dreamt strange dreams that night. Of being lost in a crimson maze. Wandering from hallway to hallway, door to door. Never ending. Never escaping. I dreamt there were eyes on the walls, peering at me. Blinking and judging. They glared at me like I was a monster. A disgusting creature. Something to be shunned.

They made me feel gross. They made me feel exposed. I was naked in the dream. And my skin crawled. Literally. I could feel my skin shifting and moving. Like it was alive. I could feel the cells in my body squirming and moving. Crawling. Growing. It hurt. Ached. They reminded me of growing pains from my adolescence. The dull ache that throbbed through your muscles. Faint, but present. Growing and growing with my cells, my body expanding. My mass fluctuating. It hurt. It hurts!

I awoke with a slow start that morning. Not the kind of rush you get from a bad dream. I didn’t jump up in my bed, I experienced no rush of relief to realize I had only been dreaming. No, I awoke slowly. As if being fished out from my dream by a slow moving crane. Dredged through the murky waters of sleep and back to the surface of consciousness.

I pried my eyes open. My head ached and my eyes felt thick. I felt like I hadn’t slept a wink. I could still feel the aching pain from my dream. At first it covered my body, but as I slowly woke up, it receded more and more. Before finally condensing down to my fingertips. Where the dull throbbing remained.

I gave a tired groan and pulled my hands from beneath my blankets. Inspecting them with all the speed and grace of a lethargic sloth.

But what I saw quickly sent a jolt through my body. And delivered quite the wake up call.

It was my fingernail again. Just like the day before, my right finger had two nails. The normal one, and a new one. That jutted upwards at an awkward, 45 degree angle. It was the source of some of the aching pain. A throbbing that radiated from the tip of my finger, up into my hand.

But that wasn’t what shocked my system.

The problem had spread. To every single finger on my hand. All of them had additional nails that sprouted from the bed. Some had only two, some had three, my thumb had a total of five. One of them, the one on my middle finger, stood straight up to form a 90 degree corner with my regular nail. And although their positions and numbers varied, all of them ached with that same, dull pain.

“What the fuck?” Was all I could manage to say as I gazed upon my mutated nails. I mean, what else was I supposed to say? It was utterly enigmatic to me. Never in my life had I experienced, or even heard, of something like this. Not only nails growing so fast overnight, but growing new nails on top of your old ones so rapidly. My immediate thought was to clip them. Get rid of them. Maybe see if I was getting ingrown nails, and that was causing the pain.

But as I rolled over to get out of bed, I received the second shock of my brief morning.

My alarm clock read 7:47AM.

All I could do was gasp as I threw myself into a sitting position. How had I managed to sleep through my alarm so soundly? Was work really exhausting me that badly? Though my dream had already faded from my mind, I could tell I hadn’t slept the best anyways.

I glanced at my nails, and knew I wouldn’t have time to deal with that mess. I was going to have to bite the bullet, and deal with them till I got home that night. If I waited around for too long, I’d be extremely late to work. I was probably already going to be late, but no need to make it worse.

I jumped from my bed and as I landed on my feet, a new pain radiated up to my ankles. I gave a quiet yelp, bouncing from my right foot onto my left, assuming I had stepped on something. Only to feel the same pain there as well.

It took only a moment of investigation to find out why. The issue apparently wasn’t restricted to only my fingernails….

I got dressed as quickly as I could. Handling anything was a pain. Literally. As gripping with my fingers caused the pain from my nails to worsen. Same for putting any pressure on my feet.

Putting on my socks and shoes was the biggest hassle of the morning by far. Trying to get the socks on over my messed up toenails was a lesson in futility. I had no choice but to take the time and clip some of them. Otherwise the oddly jutting out angles simply would make it impossible to wear anything over them.

Despite that, I still got ready in record time. I skipped breakfast, and didn’t pack lunch. No time. I was out the door by 7:55, and speeding down the road to the office moments later.

******

I burst through the door of Dr. Afterthought’s office. Out of breath and feeling horrible. The doctor had already started on his work this morning. He was pouring over a chart so intently that as I burst in, he didn’t even take notice of me at first.

“G-Good morning doctor.” I stammered, rushing in and attaching my nametag to my scrubs. “I-I’m so, so sorry about being late. I overslept my alarm a-and then-”

“I am not interested in excuses, Miss Cuttler.” The doctor cut me off with a tone I’d never heard from him. It was cold and stern. Like a parent that’s upset with their unruly child. “When I ask you to be here at a certain time, I expect you to be here at that time. Am I clear?”

My face flushed red as I was scolded for my tardiness. I was normally much better about being on time to things. But somehow I doubted he wanted to hear my excuses.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

Dr. Afterthought stared me down, his eyes glaring at me over the rims of his red glasses. He wore a black face mask as well. Leaving most of his face obscured. I could only hold his gaze for a few moments before I was forced to drop mine. Staring into his eyes was about as comfortable as staring into the sun.

“Good. Now hurry up and get ready. We’re behind.” He thrust a chart into my hands. “Prepare this patient’s medications. Now. Hurry.” The doctor rushed out the room, his hurried footsteps retreating down the hall.

Whatever was going on must be serious. That would explain the doctor’s tense attitude, and also why he was so furious at me for being late. I took a look at the chart he’d given me. It was for a woman named Mrs. Barbara Crowley.

I flipped open the chart as I carried it to my desk, setting down and plopping down into my seat. I breathed a sigh of relief as I did so, as my toes hurt anytime I was standing. Today was going to be hell. My feet hurt plenty on a normal day around here, let alone with whatever was going on with my nails.

I tried to push it from my mind as I scanned through the chart. The woman, Mrs. Crowley, was a 65 year old woman. A widow, as her husband died a few years ago.

My eyes bulged when I saw that her admittance date to the hospital was four years ago. This poor woman had been in the hospital for nearly half a decade. It sent a shiver up my spine. Imagining spending every waking hour in this gloomy, dim hospital.

It wasn’t a problem to figure out what medication would be needed. It was the only thing she ever really received. Her chart listed an injection of “teriparatide A.T.” about every week or so. Along with several intensive and long surgeries.

“Poor woman….” I mumbled, glancing over her chart. It was thick, I guess that was to be expected for a four year hospital stay. It was pretty monotonous. Just the injections and the surgeries. Every week. For four years.

I quickly closed the chart. No longer wanting to dwell on the hell that woman’s life must be. Not to mention, I had a job to do. I crossed over to Dr. Afterthought’s freezer and pulled it open. This was where he stored all of his vaccines. Nurse Typha showed it to me yesterday. When I voiced my concerns over vaccines being stored in the doctor’s office, rather than a sterile lab, she simply glared at me and told me to shut up.

I leaned forward and scanned the shelves. Searching for the vaccine listed in the woman’s chart. It was near the back. Teriparatide. I reached for it, but noticed a second bottle nearby. It was almost identical. Except for the addition of two letters right at the end of the label. A.T. Though I had no idea what it stood for, I was almost certain that was the true medication needed.

I double checked the chart and confirmed my suspicions. Teriparatide A.T. Not the basic version. I chided myself mentally for almost making a mistake like that. Sure, it was simple and easy to mix up. But something like that could kill someone.

I set the bottle down on the counter nearby, and opened the cabinet overhead. Reaching for a pair of latex medical gloves. The entire routine had been drilled into my head yesterday by Nurse Typha. Stressing the importance of wearing gloves, using clean needles, etc. All things that I felt, truthfully, were common sense.

I pulled the rubber glove on, but the second my fingers entered-

“Ow!” I hissed, dropping the glove to the floor. I glared at my hand as though it had just betrayed me. The nails on my fingers had gotten caught on the glove as I tried to pull it on. The same thing that had happened with my socks this morning.

I grabbed a fresh glove from the box and tried again, slower this time. But just like before, my creepy additional nails caught on the rubber latex. Bending back and making the dull ache sharpen. I tried to reach in with my other hand and push the nails down, but that did nothing but make the pain worse.

As I tried one last time to pull the damn things on, a tearing sound filled the air. My jagged nails had torn straight through the latex. I threw the torn glove onto the desk in rage and reached for a third one. I was starting to try again when the door behind me flew open.

“Cuttler!” Dr. Afterthought shouted as he stormed in. I jumped and spun around, the rubber glove still dangling half way onto my hand. “What on earth are you doing in here? Did you forget how to prepare the injection or something?” He demanded.

“N-No sir!” I quickly shook my head, gesturing to the bottle of medication behind me. “I-I was just in the middle of it. But-”

“But what?”

“W-Well.” My eyes looked anywhere but the doctor’s burning gaze.

“What’s with all the gloves?” Dr. Afterthought reached past me and picked up the one with holes torn in it. “Did you do this?” His tone turned from frustration, to curiosity as he looked to me for an answer.

“I did.” I felt my face turning red. “Sorry, doctor…. Its just- I was just having problems with my nails is all. I couldn’t get them under the gloves.” Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to tell him after all. He was a doctor. And according to everyone around here, a great one.

“You should keep your nails trimmed while working in a hospital, Miss Cuttler.” Dr. Afterthought shook his head disapprovingly. “You need to keep a professional appearance around here.”

“I know that sir, but that’s…. Not the problem.” I sheepishly held out my hands for the doctor to see. “I cut them yesterday. But when I woke up this morning they were…. Like this.”

Dr. Afterthought glanced at my hands quickly, as if ready to dismiss the problem. But did a double take almost as fast. He leaned closer and lifted one of my hands up to his face. His glasses shielded his eyes from me, but I could still feel his studious gaze. Like he was scanning every last detail and molecule of my nails.

“I see.” He commented after a moment, before standing back up straight. He stared at me for a few awkward seconds. Thanks to his eyes and mask it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“Don’t worry about the shot, Miss Cuttler. I’ll handle it.” The doctor stepped past me.

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Dr. Afterthought slid his needle into the bottle of medication and began to slowly draw back on the plunger, causing the needle to fill with a yellowish liquid. It looked rather similar to the one I had received. But that was probably just a coincidence. “There should be some nail clippers on my desk. You can use those to handle your nails. I want you to take a good lunch break today too. Eat lots. Keep your energy up.”

The way he was talking did a lot more to unnerve me than reassure me. “I-Is there something wrong with me? Why would my nails be doing this? They’ve never done this before.”

“It’s hard to say.” The doctor turned towards me, his large shiny metal syringe held firmly in one hand. “It's probably nothing. But we’ll keep an eye on it, okay? If the issue progresses in any way, we’ll examine it further.”

“A-Are you sure it's not an issue I should be concerned about?”

“Of course not, Miss Cuttler. There’s nothing to be worried about at all.” The doctor turned and took the needle with him. Heading back out into the hallway.

It was hard to tell, but it almost looked like he was smiling behind his face mask.

True fear is something hard to come by. At least it was for me. I had never been particularly scared of horror movies, or ghost stories. Or anything like that. I had a few scares here or there throughout my life, sure. But never had I felt true, unadulterated, unfiltered, terror.

Or maybe terror isn’t quite the right word for what I felt on the morning of April 30th, 2024. Maybe more like dread. Dread at what was happening, dread at what would happen. Dread at not having answers, dread at getting answers.

Regardless of what someone might call it. I woke up that morning with the loudest scream of my life. I’m sure you would too if you woke up with a sixth finger suddenly appearing on your hand.

When I’d awoken that morning the first thing I did was check my fingernails. Dismayed to find that they had just grown right back, even after I clipped them yesterday. But I’d barely even registered that. Because right there, growing between my ring and pinky finger, was a sixth finger.

As if that alone wasn’t bad enough, it didn’t look…. Normal. Not that a sixth finger would ever look normal. But besides that, it was limp and gray. It was cold to the touch and flopped around whenever I moved. Like a cold, dead fish.

I stumbled from my bed, barely preventing myself from screaming again. I couldn’t take my eyes away from it. I shifted my hand and watched with morbid fascination as it flopped from side to side. Almost like it didn’t have any bones. I noticed that it had the same dull, throbbing ache to it. The same way my fingernails did.

Hospital. Was my only thought. Not to work, but to the actual hospital. This was something strange and serious. People don’t just grow new digits, obviously. Something was wrong with me and I needed to get it taken care of.

I remembered the doctor’s words the day prior. He’d told me to call him if anything progressed with the condition of my nails. This certainly qualified, but…. Part of me didn’t want to. Part of me didn’t want to see Dr. Afterthought. I knew I was being childish though. Dr. Afterthought was the best doctor around, after all.

I threw on my clothes and raced to my car. It felt like I’d been doing that a lot lately. Racing from my house and jumping in my car. Only this time, it wasn’t because I was late.

The sky was overcast as I pulled up to the Lake Herald General Hospital. I stuffed my malformed hand into my jacket pocket and quickly jumped out of the vehicle. Immediately finding my way back to the front desk, where that same receptionist sat and waited for me.

“Good morning Miss Cuttler. Is there a-”

“I need an appointment. Now. Please.” I cut her off, not willing to wait any longer. “It's an emergency.”

The receptionist was obviously well trained in these matters. Not so much as flinching as I immediately began to declare I was having a medical emergency. She gave a slow nod. Though tilted her head to the side in interest.

“Of course. Right away, Miss Cuttler…. Can I ask what’s the matter? Are you okay?”

I didn’t want to tell her the whole story. Or show her what was wrong. I chewed the inside of my lip in worry. “I-I’m okay. Right now. Just…. Concerned is all? I woke up with…. A strange growth. On my hand. One that looks very…. Concerning.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. It was a concerning growth. Just a…. Finger shaped one.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Okay…. Please, have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly.”

I did as I was told. I nervously waited in the lobby. My foot was bouncing as I watched the seconds tick away. My hand was clenched in my pocket. I could still feel it. The finger. Cold and limp. Like a dead worm grasped in my hand. It was sickening.

I was about to get up and go to the bathroom, when I suddenly heard someone call out my name.

It was…. Nurse Typha. Standing in the doorway, hand on her hip. Tapping her foot impatiently.

“Let’s go, Miss Cuttler.” She scowled. “We don’t have all day. Dr. Afterthought is waiting for you upstairs.”

I remained seated for a few seconds before I stood and slowly walked over. I was kicking myself for not mentioning to the receptionist that I didn’t want to see Dr. Afterthought. She must’ve just assumed it or something. Or maybe now that I worked with him he was listed as my primary provider? I didn’t know. And it didn’t really matter now.

I followed Nurse Typha up to the fourth floor. Where my appointment with Dr. Afterthought awaited me….

She led me down the patient's hall. All the way to the end and into the 12th door. She opened it and led me inside the small room. It looked like a standard hospital room, just with that oppressive red and black color scheme. Even the bedsheets were black with a red trim. The only window in the room was covered by a curtain.

“Take a seat.” Nurse Typha gestured me to the hospital bed. She began to pull out various equipment and things to get me worked up. I did as I was told, trying to keep my discomfort from showing. But I doubt I was very good at it.

“What seems to be the problem today?” She asked, turning to me with a clipboard in hand. The mean tone she usually kept was gone now. At least she was being professional.

“I…. Um….” I stammered, still extremely wary to explain what was happening to anyone. I mean, could you blame me? It was such a shocking and strange thing to have happened. I was almost worried about receiving answers about it. Out of fear of what it might be.

“Please spit it out, Miss Cuttler.” Nurse Typha put her hands on her hips. “The doctor is going to be very upset if this is just some ruse to get out of work.”

“It isn’t! I swear it's an emergency!” I blurted out.

Nurse Typha looked at me expectantly, still awaiting my answer.

I chewed my lip. I knew I had no other choice, so I slowly brought out my right hand. And held it out for Nurse Typha to see. All at once her eyes widened and that condescending look of disbelief vanished from her eyes. She stared at my hand, before reaching out and carefully examining it. Strange fucked up fingernails, sixth finger, and all.

“Has…. Has this been happening for a long time?” She released my hand and quickly began to scribble on her clipboard.

“Um. Well the finger just happened today…. But the nails started growing weird about two days ago.” I withdrew my hand and clutched it close to my chest, as though I were afraid it would wander off.

“Have you already told the doctor about this?” She glanced up from her board at me.

“I showed him my nails yesterday. But the finger just happened this morning…. H-He told me to call him if the condition progressed, but I guess I was so freaked out I didn’t even think about calling.” I conveniently left out the part about being afraid to see Dr. Afterthought.

“Very well.” Nurse Typha clicked her pen shut and stood up from her chair. The brief lapse in her chilly demeanor now gone. Replaced by a fresh layer of stern frost. “I’ll get the doctor immediately. I’ll tell him it really is an emergency.”

Nurse Typha left the room, and not even 5 minutes later Dr. Afterthought came bustling in. With Typha in toe. He looked frantic and it only served to unnerve me further.

“Good morning Miss Cuttler.” Dr. Afterthought stepped closer and took his stethoscope off his neck, plugging it into his ears and holding the diaphragm of the device up to my chest. “Just doing some quick checks before we get to the real issue here.” The doctor explained.

“Are you feeling alright? Aside from the growth.” He took off his stethoscope and gestured for Nurse Typha to move in. She approached and wrapped a blood pressure device around my arm. Squeezing it and tightening it.

“Yes. I feel fine…. I'm a little tired, but I think that’s just because I haven’t been sleeping the best.” I winced as the blood pressure cuff hit its maximum, then after a few moments, deflated.

“Blood pressure seems fine.” Nurse Typha called out to the doctor.

“That’s good. That’s good.” Dr. Afterthought scribbled a few things on his paper. “About your sleeping issue. Can you explain why exactly?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Stress maybe? I’ve just been not waking feeling rested. I think I’ve been having strange dreams, but I can never remember them. And I’ve been feeling extremely fatigued.” I wished we could get on to my hand already. I felt like these questions were just wasting our time. “I don’t see what sleep has to do with my hand.” I added, my annoyance leaking out a little.

“Just covering our ground, Miss Cuttler. No need to get fussy.” The doctor held up his hands. Before approaching and reaching out for mine. “Let’s go ahead and take a look at this now.”

I set my hand in his and he immediately began to look over it. Spreading my fingers and prodding at the new one. I still couldn’t feel anything from it. Aside from the dull ache.

“It just showed up this morning? You didn’t have anything there yesterday?” Dr. Afterthought removed his red glasses and leaned closer, peering at the cold, gray finger.

“No, I didn’t. You even saw my hands yesterday. They were fine…. Aside from my nails.”

“Does it hurt any?”

“Only slight achiness at the very base of it. Where it connects to my hand. Otherwise I can’t feel anything. It just feels weird when my hand closes around it.”

Without another word, Dr. Afterthought pinched it between his thumb and index finger. And bent it backwards. All the way backwards. Until it was flat against the back of my hand. It made me sick, but didn’t hurt.

He gave it a few squeezes Bent it in more directions…. Then released it with a click of his tongue.

“It doesn’t have any bones in it, it feels like. Just flesh and skin.” He held out his hand towards Typha. “Hand me a scalpel please.” She pressed a fresh blade into his hand. And before I could say anything to defend myself, Dr. Afterthought made a quick incision along the top of my sixth finger.

I yelped, more instinctively than anything, and expected blood to come gushing out…. But none came. All that oozed from my finger was a light trail of clear liquid. I blinked, mouth agape in astonishment. Before looking up to the doctor in utter confusion.

“No blood either.” He said aloud. As Nurse Typha made notes on the clipboard.

“S-So it doesn’t have blood or bones?” The examination was only giving me more questions than answers.

“Yes. And considering you can’t feel anything, I would wager it has no nerves either....” Dr. Afterthought puts a hand to his chin in thought. “The strange growth patterns in your nails must’ve just been the early stages of this affliction. Interesting. Very interesting.” He nodded to himself.

“Well.” He suddenly let go of my hand and stepped back. He pulled off his rubber gloves and dumped them into the trash. His hands went to his hips as he turned back to face me. “All we can do now is keep a close eye on it. Typha will take some tissue samples for us to look at. So that we can study it a bit more closely.”

“C-Can I get it amputated?” I stuffed my mutated hand into my pocket, hiding it from view. I didn’t want to look at the ugly thing. But unfortunately, the rest of my poor fingers could still feel it. Like an alien invader among them.

“Not yet I’m afraid, Miss Cuttler.” The doctor put his red glasses back on. “We don’t know enough about it yet. I’ll have to ask you to just leave it be for now. And we’ll regroup once we either know more about it, or the condition worsens.”

Or the condition worsens. I repeated in my head. I didn’t like the sound of that.

“So what should I do until then?”

“Well, the finger doesn’t seem to be affecting you any other way. Is it? So it seems to me like you can get back to work. You’ll be needing the money anyways.” The doctor answered with a nod, then turned to leave.

“Wait. What do you mean I’ll be needing the money?” I called out. The doctor stopped with his hand frozen on the doorknob.

“To pay for medical treatment, of course. You don’t have insurance.” Dr. Afterthought didn’t even turn to look at me. Just exited right out the door.

“What?” I asked in a quickly panicking voice. When the doctor didn’t return, I instead focused my question towards Nurse Typha. Who was preparing to take a sample from my finger.

“What?” She repeated back to me.

“What do you mean I have to pay for the medical treatment? I thought the hospital covered that?”

“We cover standard medical needs, dear.” Her tone was taunting and condescending. “Like vaccinations and checkups. But this-” She pointed down to my hand. “Well there’s nothing standard about any of that.”

My heart sank as I realized the implications of that. I’d need to pay for this testing and any further tests…. Not to mention when I did eventually get it amputated. Plus whatever other treatment I was going to need for this.

“Now get that hand out here.” Nurse Typha stood over me with a wicked smile on her face. “Let’s get this over with so you can get back to work.”

******

I returned home at 8:30PM after a long, and terrible day at work. Obviously I hadn’t slept well, and the work as usual was gruelling and tedious, but the added problem of my…. New finger…. Was causing me strife all day. Writing was extremely difficult. As it turns out, adding a whole new finger to your hand kind of messes up the way you learned to hold a pen. It was a pain to deal with all day, turning my usually decent handwriting into absolute slop. I swear to god it felt like Nurse Typha was giving me every piece of written work she could think of just so she could watch me squirm.

And then there was the pain. The unending, throbbing, aching pain that plagued my hands every moment of the day. The pain was low, but always noticeable. And always annoying. Even after taking painkillers I could still feel it. Throbbing and aching. My right hand was the worst. I imagine because of the additional finger, but also because of having to write with it. The constant pressure worsening the pain with every letter I wrote.

Add those two issues, with the fact that I felt endlessly lethargic and starving, no matter how much I ate for lunch, and you have a recipe for an absolute nightmare of a day.

But it was finally over. I was finally home. I threw my purse on the table, sagging against the wall with a groan. I was so tired. I just wanted nothing more than to sleep. But I was starving. My hunger felt endless. My stomach panged and clamored for something, anything to eat. I raided my fridge and pantry for what I had. I could cook, but I didn’t want to. I was so damn sleepy.

I abandoned the cooking idea and grabbed my cell phone. I dialed the nearest restaurant that I knew did take out and ordered big. I got paid in just a few days. So I wasn’t worried about overcharging my card. I just wanted food.

While I waited for the delivery man to arrive I simply sat in the dark of my kitchen. Wallowing in my pain and agony. I had a box of crackers in front of me, idly munching on them and trying to satiate my starvation. At the same time I found myself nodding off. Sleep threatened to overtake me.

It was the worst I’d ever felt in my life up till that point. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized just how miserable I truly was. Before the waterworks could begin though, there was a knock at my apartment door. And a voice calling out:

“Delivery!”

I jumped up from my kitchen table and quickly rushed over. I’d paid online, so I had to do nothing more than grab the food and retreat into my home. In my haste, I used my right hand to take the bag from the young delivery boy.

My hand brushed against his, the cold limp flesh of the new finger brushing against him. I pulled back as fast as I could, but I still saw that flash of disgust bloom across his face. He tried to hide it, but I could still see it. Deep in his eyes.

I buried my mutated hand deep into my pocket and thanked the boy. Unable to meet his gaze. I shut the door quickly and took my feast to the table.

My dinner was largely a blur. I know I devoured it. Fast. I just ate and ate and didn't really stop until I had cleaned my plates. And even then I didn’t feel fully satisfied. But I didn’t feel like ordering anything else, and I knew that nothing I had here would satisfy me either.

So I dragged myself to bed. I collapsed face first onto the pillow, and within moments I was out like a light.