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Misery Hall
1
She stood in the old waiting area realizing that she was now a felon. If caught, she would lose most of her professional credentials, the ability to vote, and there was no promise she would ever recover her career. But she knew she was meant to be here. It was an instinctive urge that had to be satiated.
The empty building was everything she guessed it would be. It was stark, filthy, antiquated, and wonderful. It was abandoned and left to rot in the filth of forgotten years. The musty, stagnant air reeked when she first entered; it took a moment to catch her breath. The atmosphere lay heavy across her shoulders.
It was King’s Mountain Memorial Hospital. The old establishment was in the downtown area of Bristol. It closed its doors during the 1950s. People said something hid there, something that didn’t want to be found. Her interest was piqued as a child and she never overcame the curiosity. Buildings were like that. Some of those childhood curiosities bled into adulthood no matter how she tried to push them back.
She could feel something there. The sensation gnawed at her as she walked the main area. It was the old waiting room. She had done many things in her life and all revolved around logic. For once, she was at the extreme opposite of that typical disposition. Logic wasn’t enough.
She had found a loose board covering the window and crawled inside. Breaking and entering was a felony, but it didn’t matter. It was time to satiate that lust. It was far too late to turn back; she was in the building. Should she have let someone in on her plans? If she had let anyone know, they would’ve tried to stop her. They would’ve tried to pull her back into that answerless reality. She wanted answers. She had reached the theoretical pinnacle where logic was nothing more than another person’s ideal. It had no substance or tangibility and no one could prove logic any more than they could the supernatural. There was probably a more scientific term for such an epiphany, but there was no time for science.
She woke up earlier that day following her routine. She showered, ate breakfast, and went to work. She passed by King’s Mountain as usual and didn’t really pay abnormal attention to it. She arrived at the clinic clear-headed and ready to pore over more books and attempt to solve mysteries of the mind that were impossible for human machinations. Then she interviewed Mrs. Dingle. Dingle was a perplexing case that baffled all of her senior psychologists. As the newest doctor at the clinic, she was passed into her caseload. It was the bureaucratic passing of the buck. Helen Dingle was an impressive physicist in her day. She was respected and renowned throughout all the surrounding states. She had taught physics at college for years. Until she ventured into quantum physics and further into worlds science ignored. Rumors traveled and she became forced into retirement after publishing her findings. She was shunned by the rest of the world.
Helen had been completely silent the first visits. However, only hours earlier she spoke up and she couldn’t rationalize it. “Who dictates your thoughts?” was the phrase that ultimately landed her inside the broken structure. It made perfect sense. For years her thoughts were directed towards what other people classified as normal and typical. Why? What did it earn her? A job she was stuck with. She had a position with an office where she would be at the bottom of the totem pole of prestige until her senior doctors died or retired. She was little better than the janitor or the receptionist in their eyes.
Helen had been a genius. Who was to say what she was doing was wrong? Why was it wrong? She hadn’t stolen. She hadn’t touched anything aside from what she needed to when she entered the old hospital. She hadn’t even left footprints as far as she could see. The flashlight lit up the rooms and halls for the first time in decades.
The windows had been boarded over to prevent vandalism years earlier. No one would see the light. Why had she come? She felt it urgent that she get inside the building, but now that she stood at her destination, why? What did she hope to learn from her experience?
Was it simply an act of rebellion? Was the act a thoughtless behavior stemming from years of obsessing over a pathetic reputation that was clearly insignificant? Could it be a cry for attention? What would Kyle Vanderbilt say about her behavior? The senior doctor barely nodded at her lowly presence in the clinic.
A large stairway went up to the second floor behind the dusty desk. She sat atop the first step and waited. Why had she come here? It wasn’t for the social gain. She didn’t want anyone to know where she was. She picked up her pager and examined it. She hadn’t been paged in days. Most of her work revolved around patients the doctors had grown tired of. While they moved on to new and interesting individuals, they left her with the patients who’d grown to trust them. It was difficult to fill their shoes in their eyes. Several had already told her they were going elsewhere.
She sighed; her breath pushed the particles of dust in the light beam in all directions. Why didn’t someone take care of the building? It was gorgeous. The architecture was unbelievable and it had stood for nearly a century. Life came and went outside its doors while the building remained steady and solid. Now, she was living inside. How long had it been since someone had come in and actually sat down for a while?
She could imagine how the hospital was during its operation. It would’ve been busy with patients and staff. The wards and wings would’ve been buzzing with activity and observation. If she were working, she would’ve been in the midst of it. She wanted to be a psychologist because that seemed like the cruelest fate for a person to suffer. Something only they were aware of. It was something that couldn’t be measured or proven. It was akin to a cancer that the rest of the world could scoff at and mock, while the victim helplessly tried to state their case. In most instances, that often resulted in making them appear even more unbalanced.
But now she was here. Now she was waiting for something. She closed her eyes and she was there. Nurses wore the starched white uniforms while doctors ran to and fro in the halls. Orderlies pushed gurneys and assisted the staff with the patients. There were no pagers and no computers in there. It was all paperwork and hard documentation.
She opened her eyes and held her breath. She blinked a few times to try and clear the image. She couldn’t wake up. She was there, she was in the panic and rushing atmosphere.
“Dr. Emily Bale?” A doctor walked up. He had a headband with a shiny mirror on top. She looked down and she wore a uniform much like the nurses’. Her white overcoat matched that of the other doctor and she had a clipboard in her lap.
“I’m so sorry for the delay, Dr. Bale,” the physician apologized. “We are a little disorganized with the tornado victims and all. It is so exciting to have the area’s first female doctor working with us.” He shook her hand firmly and enthusiastically.
“The first female physician?” She spoke in a whisper.
The doctor gave a light chuckle. “Yes, didn’t you know? Regardless, Dr. Bale. Welcome to King’s Mountain. I’m sure you can offer a great amount of help with our female patients.”
She stood and followed the doctor. He darted in and out of the crowded halls.
“The train brought the victims from Dungannon. They’re still bringing them in. Terrible tornado, just terrible. I know you’re more familiar with illnesses of the mind and psychology, but do you think you could help us?”
Isn’t that what she had wanted? To help people without the bureaucratic politics and popularity contests in the contemporary workforce? She had a chance. An opportunity to prove herself and stretch her wings with new and exciting patients.
Would she get home? Could she? She looked back and half-expected to see the derelict building behind her. It wasn’t there. King’s Mountain was again beautiful and new. Was there any way home?
She considered what it meant to leave her time. She looked back to the people there, the affection and concern they had for one another. She decided to stay.
“Yes, Dr.—”
“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Dr. Timothy McGraw.”
“Dr. McGraw, I’d be delighted. We have so many here that need help.”
Perhaps Helen had been there before. Perhaps she knew how to get back. Emily didn’t feel compelled to frantically worry about returning. What was there to go back to?
2
Excerpt from the Bristol Reader, September 8, 2005
Psychologist Missing Under Mysterious Circumstances
Authorities were called to the King’s Mountain Hospital structure on State’s Street last night. Neighbors noticed a new car parked outside the building and were concerned. The police found the vehicle belonged to Dr. Emily Bale, a psychologist with the Tri-Cities Psychology Clinic. Authorities traced a vague path that led inside the hospital. They found trace footprints from a woman’s shoe; however, they end at the main staircase. After a thorough search, no further evidence was found. If you have any information on this missing person, please report to the Bristol authorities.
