Psych Ward Stories Novels & Stories

Like whatever came next, he was already bracing for it and me. That mattered. I made it through two patient consults, a medication reconciliation, and a conversation with a deeply paranoid bipolar patient who believed the vending machine was trying to kill him before I had time to catch my breath. I retreated to the break room with a cold cup of coffee and my tablet, trying to update progress notes before the noon psychiatric evaluations kicked off. But even there, in the overlit, eternally buzzing brain of the psych ward, I felt steadier than I had in days.

No one is perfect. I take a small step towards him and raise both my hands slowly. I talk in a gentle tone as to not scare him away. I feel like I'm approaching a wild animal caught in a trap, and I can't help but remember the first day that I met him. The way he howled with pain and snarled at me. He reminded me so much of a wild animal that day too. "Look, Malakar. The hospital where I work has a world-class psychiatric ward." "The doctors there are really good at what they do. They can help you. I can take you there."

than usual at the entrance of the hospital. Paparazzi wearing masks stared at the hospital door. A patient who fell and fractured lived in an advanced ward of the hospital. He should have been in pain to the point of groaning, but at the moment this person is eating an apple. Not long after, the door of the ward was suddenly pushed open. Seeing the person who came, the person quickly put down the apple and asked with a pleased expression: "Why are you here?" "I came to see how you are doing." Adams Harrah sneered, then sat down in front of him with his eyebrows raised, "You didn't say anything you shouldn't have, did you?" "Of course not, Second Master, there are so many reporters watching

So I waited until she was safely in the car and Victor had pulled away before I moved to my other vehicle, where Edwards was already waiting in the driver's seat. "Let's go." Edwards pulled out of the garage, and thirty minutes later, we were in lower Manhattan. The buildings here were older, most of them converted into luxury lofts or artisan shops. Edwards pulled up in front of a low but wide-sprawling building. It was a psychiatric facility that had been renovated to look more like a private hospital than an asylum. "What are they processing him for?" I asked. "Acute psychotic episodes with violent tendencies," Edwards replied.

I just have to be patient. "Keena," I hear Ward gasp from the other side of the room. "That looks really bad." "It feels fine," I lie to him. "Well it doesn't look fine," Ward says with a huff. As the nurse redresses my wound the doctor walks into Ward's hospital room. "How would you two like to break out of this joint?" The doctor asks cheerfully. Ward eagerly sits up in the bed and the shackle that is still around one of his wrists rattles loudly on the bed. He hisses against the silver of the shackle but that doesn't stop him from pulling against it.

J City Hospital 4 days later… "Hi, my name is Karee Deusdado. Do you know who I am?" Ara nodded. The blinding light of the psychiatric ward room 396 illuminated the white cushioned walls. She hugged her knees close to her in the corner. Refusing everyone that tries to get near her. It's hard for her to trust anybody after waking up in the place she doesn't even know where. Although it occurs to her that she's in a psychiatric intensive-care unit per this, Karee, claims as her assigned doctor. Dr. Deusdado knew better not to force herself on her patients. She stood next to the door. "How are you feeling?"

"Sit down, Lilith. We need to have a serious decision. I need your help with something very important. You can't back out from this, not after promising me that you would repay me for my kindness, no matter the cost" Gemma slowly sat down on her seat, her fists clenched. She had no choice now. *Flashback* Nurses in scrubs wheeled food and drugs to the admitted patients of the Compulsive disorder section. Among these patients, some of them were mumbling incoherent words to themselves, others were either picking at their nails, violently scratching their scalp or pacing back and forth in their wards, having a mental breakdown. In Ward 12B sat 18 years old Jensen Jefferson. He was staring outsi

When Jake entered, he asked loudly: “Mr. Reed, is your wife okay? She seems off. Should I call a doctor?” Mr. Reed snapped: “Mind your own business. Just do what I tell you.” Jake pressed further: “Why do you keep calling security guards? Shouldn’t family or doctors handle this?” Mr. Reed grew impatient. “I pay you to work, not ask questions. Stay out of things that don’t concern you.” Though he avoided direct admissions, the recording was enough to prove he was bribing guards to stage misleading situations. I didn’t waste any time. I texted Clara to secure the pill evidence, then called the police.

A text from Thomas. I lied. I don't have Dani. But I have something better. Turn on the news. Julian stabs the news app. The screen floods with a live feed. A reporter stands outside a building I recognize with sickening clarity. The hospice facility on West Grand Boulevard. "Breaking news from the west side, where an armed man has barricaded himself inside a hospice facility. Police are on the scene, but the situation is ongoing. We're receiving reports that several patients are inside, including—"

“Here, sir. This is the compensation for the incident, please forgive us…” The old man beamed in delight when he saw the money, and all the frustration and irritation flew out of the window. He accepted the money gracefully and asked, “So, do you need my service next time?” The warden retched in disgust and said, “No, sir, there’s no next time. Please proceed if you haven’t finished your business…” Then, he urged the students, “Hurry, get Kian to the doctor now!” When the doctor saw Kian, he vomited all his dinner and blurted, “Oh, please, take him to the mental hospital now! We can’t do anything about it!”