"Good Evening, Dr. Hollande. I didn't think that you would be back tonight."  said Rosa, the hospital receptionist from behind her desk. Isla only gave a small wave.

    "I have to check up on Mr. Fricks," she replied. "He's on the top of our priority list now, you know." she mumbled, wishing that Rosa could read her mind as she  walked briskly to the elevators.

   When the doors closed shut , she pressed the 3rd floor button. Isla looked at the emergency phone under the button panel and considered calling the police for help. It was possible that she could get away with it, waiting in the elevator until the police came to her rescue.

   Her hand yanked open the door to the little compartment, only to find that the phone cord had been severed.

 Of course it wasn't going to be that easy.

   Biting the inside of her lip, she quietly shut the door and waited for the elevator to stop moving. On the third floor, everything was quiet. The hallways were mostly dark and empty, except for the guards who stood lazily at Damiens door, chatting quietly.

     She took a deep breath and gathered her composure, trying to look as confident and organized as she could. Using her badge, she bypassed three electronically locked doors and finally reached Damiens room.

     The guards stopped her at his door, but she flashed her badge and they let her through.

     Inside, everything was deathly quiet. Only the beeping of the monitors and Damiens respirator disturbed the silence, his ragged breathing giving the room a sort of dark ambiance.

    She walked cautiously to his bedside, her hands shaking. Although his chest and face was bandaged, and tubes protruded from his nose, mouth and arms, he looked peaceful. It was eerie, being alone with him. During the operation, she had nurses with her and it was just another routine job, but being alone with him, now that was a whole other story.

    Isla gasped as his eyes fluttered open. She took a small step back, surprised.

      His eyes moved around the room, dazed and glossy. Then his gaze rested on her. He smacked his lips and swallowed what spit he could, trying to speak.

     "I suppose you've met the family?" he rasped, a smirk twisting on his face.

   At that moment, she wanted to choke him. He was mocking her like she was playing into his hands, like he had control of the situation! He already knew why she was here!

    She walked quickly up to him, the rage in her eyes. "Why did you make them do this?" she seethed, clenching her fists at her sides.

    He chuckled as best as he could. "I didn't make them do this, I knew they would. You should try to be a little more friendly, Doctor, if we're ever going to get along." he chuckled again.

     Islas lip curled. It was sickening, but her life was at stake, and there were certain things that she had to do to make sure that she survived.

   Wasn't this part of the dream though? She was helping him escape, isn't this was what she wanted? This was part of the excitement of being a criminal. It made her feel more important than she felt in her normal life.

   Not that being a doctor didn't make her feel important, it just got... old.

   Soon, Damien was in a wheelchair, his IVs on a stand connected to the back. He didn't really need the respirator, it was there just so he didn't stop breathing after the large amounts of drugs they had him under. It should have worn off by now, she presumed.

     Bypassing the guards was her next problem. Opening the door, she leaned her head out into the hall. The guards glanced at her over their shoulders.

     How was she ever going to get him out of here? Shouldn't his gang be in here shooting people and wrecking things?

    It was alright, she told herself. I'm his doctor, I can do whatever I please with my own patient. She rolled him outside. The guards looked at her, bewildered.

   "Ma'am,-" one started, holding his arm out to block her.

    "This patient is in need of rehabilitation. He's on his was to hydrotherapy." she interjected. The guards eyes narrowed. "If you'd please excuse me, I'd like to do my job. He is scheduled now, and only has half and hour before the next patients turn."

  " Not very sociable is she?" she heard one mumble to the other.

   She shoved her way through them, taking the half-sleeping Damien to the elevators. Not the regular elevators though, but the employee elevators, the one that led straight to the parking lot.




The End

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