From: Murkoff Corp, Human Resources, United States Division

To: N. Eizenstadt, MMA(1625-3)

Subject: RE: Request for Reassignment (PLEASE RESPOND ASAP)

To Miss Eizenstadt-

Emotional distress is an unfortunate but unavoidable side effect of working with those who face mental challenges and disorders. While we try our best to provide a safe place for our employees to work, there is some degree of risk with working at Mount Massive Asylum.

Unfortunately, we cannot process your request for a transfer at this moment, but we have contacted the administrator at Mount Massive to see if any of the attending psychiatrists have time to talk with you. It might help to have someone in the same working conditions to talk to about your circumstances and see that you are provided with whatever services you need to make your employment with Murkoff as comfortable as possible.

-Human Resources

P.S – Have you looked at a pamphlet for Psychopathological Proximity Stress Disorder (PPSD) lately? It's good to know the symptoms and keep on the lookout if you think any of your coworkers are suffering from it so they can be treated as soon as possible.

Nicola wanted to tear up the crinkled, sweat stained paper, but only went as far to rip off a few pieces from the corner, knowing she was going to need it when she sued Murkoff for employee endangerment. The usual tick set in, her foot tapping against the ground with no real rhythm as she looked out of the window of one of Mount Massive's libraries. A copy of The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat: And Other Clinical Tales was flipped to a random page in front of her, giving the illusion that she was studying up on the shit she had to face as a PCA every day. She crumpled up the paper in her fist before pressing it against her mouth, feeling the edges of the paper dig into her lips as she let out a dispirited sigh.

This wasn't new to her, the automated responses, the rejection, the feeling that they thought she was dumber than the stuff that was stuck to her shoes. The paper in her hands was the results of her fifth attempt to get out, and only the second she had ever received a response from. The first response was a simple apology for 'losing' all of her other emails and that they would get back to her shortly to address her issue. That was five months ago.

She wondered how much it would hurt to jump out of a window as she pressed her cheek against the cold glass, her hand coming to the latch and fiddling with it. It didn't unlock, naturally. People would think the messy paint job had jammed it, but she knew better. How much would it hurt, jumping from a window? Not the landing part. She was close enough to the ground that she could touch the weeds under the window if she had the chance. How much would the glass and wood hurt? What if a shard made its way into her eye? What if one cut the artery in her leg and she started bleeding ever-

Half of her vision flooded with speckled darkness, scratchy wool rubbing against her face as someone attempted to pull her beanie over her face. Her hands flailed in the direction of her assailant as her foot managed to find the toe of someone's shoe, stepping on it hard. The hands pulled away just as she found them, latex gloves brushing against her skin as whoever it was playfully slapped her hands away.

"What the hell, Benny?" She asked, her voice coarse from yelling all day. Stray locks of dusty blonde hair brushed against her nose and cheeks as the hair net she wore underneath her hat pulled at the skin it clung to. "I almost shit my fucking pants." She said, pulling the net away from her face.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Benny asked, sniffling before pulling out a Kleenex he had been hiding in the pocket of his scrubs. "You look like shit, by the way." He joked, his own dark auburn hair slicked back with enough product that it probably killed what was left of his brain cells.

"Gross. And I don't know. I do suggest maybe trying to act like a normal person and not piss off people who work with crazies for a living." She rebutted as she fixed her hair. The dark circles under her eyes seemed even more apparent that usual, her hazel eyes sunken in and dull. The minimal amount of makeup did little to hide the lack of color in her cheeks and lips. Her off white scrubs were badly wrinkled and smelled like they hadn't been washed in a while. A bland, grey beanie sat on her head, hiding the mess that was her hair and keeping her ears warm. Her blood always seemed to run a bit cold.

"There's no such thing as normal people here, Nikki, and I didn't mean the 'you look like shit' thing."

"I'd like to think I'm at least somewhat normal, and I know you didn't, and you know how much I hate that nickname."

"Right, right. Sorry. I forget. What's the note for?"

Nicola looked to the note in her hand, barely holding onto it with her pinky and thumb after the epic battle with her friend. "Just Murkoff telling me to fuck off. The usual." She propped up her legs on the table as Benny sat down across from her. "Tell me, Benny. Have you seen anything unusual? Heard something that really wasn't there? Maybe you're starting to think there really is such a thing as the dreaded Walrider?"

"Psh. They sent you that shit too?" Benny asked, propping his feet up as well. "They put it on my performance evaluation in big, bold print. I was half tempted to report you." He said, lightly kicking the sole of her shoe.

"Well, I'd hate to break the news to you, but I think HR beat you to it. Apparently they sent word to the docs and want me to talk to someone, since they obviously aren't going to give me what I want." She said, carefully kicking the book to the ground so it wouldn't be torn up by their feet, flinching slightly at the thud it made.

"Are they serious? Isn't that illegal?"

"I'm sure it is, but hey, it's just one more thing I can add to my list when I sue the shit out of them."

"Well, in the meantime, what are you going to do?"

"My vacation is coming up soon, so I think I might just book it, give them my two weeks two weeks late. They can't really blame me. "

"I don't mean to be the one that pops your bubble, but when is the last time you actually broke a law? Hell, even a rule?"

"I've broken plenty of rules. You just weren't around to see it."

"Oh shit. We've got a badass over here."

"Stay off the internet, Benny." Nicola replied as she kicked his feet off the table. The walkie talkies, attached to their hips, came to life with static. A voiced mumbled something over the channel, incoherent to both of them. Nicola unclipped hers, holding it to her mouth as she spoke. "What was that again?"

"You're needed in 's office, Eizenstadt. Would you mind bringing him his coffee while you're at it?"

Nicola muted her radio, sighing as she pushed herself out of her seat. "Speak of the devil and he shall tell you to come and wipe his ass for him." The radio beeped loudly as she spoke again. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Don't go." Benny teased. "If you have to, at least forget the coffee, or better yet, piss in it."

"You know. That's a bad idea to give to the person who gets your coffee."

"You don't have the guts."

"Best start drinking water."

"Seriously. Don't go. You don't need them throwing this shit in your face." Benny said, the light atmosphere dying with the pitch of his voice. "What is the worse they are going to do if you don't go? Fire you?"

"I'm not going, Benny. I'm not a masochist, but this seriously doesn't involve you, so don't tell me what to do and not do."

Her fellow PCA sighed, picking up the book that laid neglected on a floor. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just do what you got to do. Please don't piss in my coffee." He said, looking at cover of the book. "Hey. How does this book end? Does he ever figure out that his wife if not a hat?"

"Nah. He figures out that a hat is not his wife."

Nicola arrived at the doctor's door, holding the steaming coffee, with the hem of her scrub, in one hand. The thin material wasn't enough to stop the coffee from burning her hand, so she was stuck juggling the hot beverage back and forth as she waited for Dr. Snow to finally answer.

"Doctor Snow?! It's Nico- It's Eizenstadt! Someone radioed me saying you wanted to see me?" There was no answer. Nicole rapped her knuckles against the wooden door. "Is something going on in there? Do I need to call someone?" She pressed her ear against the door, hearing something that faintly sounded like a Newton's cradle.

"Sorry! Sorry, Miss Eizenstadt. I didn't hear you! You can come in!"

Nicola eagerly pushed her way in, tired of juggling the coffee and the sensation of her hands being on fire. "I brought creamer and sugar too. I don't know how you take your coffee." She said, setting the drink down and pulling an assortment of pink and blue packets out of her pockets, followed by little cups of every sort of creamer she could find in the stock room. "That good?"

"More than good. I actually don't take anything with my coffee, but thank you none the less."

The thought of jumping over the desk and strangling him crossed her mind.

"Black coffee? A man after my own heart." In truth, she hated coffee.

The good doctor let out a painfully awkward chuckle, small talk not his strongest suit. "Why don't you take a seat? I'm sure you've been on your feet all day." He said, gesturing to the seat on the other side of his desk.

Nicola took the chair, thanking him as she took in the bland scenery of his office. His little space in the nut house was so-so, the walls an uninteresting white that looked like it was beginning to age, the corners some shade of yellow. The only window was blocked by a bookshelf, the last hours of daylight pouring in through copies of old folklore books and issues of Psychology Today. The desk in front of her was a stark contrast to the sparse and depressing room. Manila folders cluttered his desk, threatening to push off pictures of his wife and kids at their youngest daughter's graduation. Patient's names were messily scribbled on the tabs. She wondered if her name was on one of them yet.

"No computer?"

"We don't like keeping computers around where the patients are. When you tell them something they don't like, they tend to go for the most expensive thing in the room first. Feel free to let your hair down. No one is going to be grabbing for it here."

"Did you learn that the hard way?" Nicola replied, trying to drum up some sort of conversation as she pulled her hat and hairnet off, hoping that the doctor, in his old age, would forget why he even called her here. Her hair fell onto her shoulders, the band she had used to keep it in a bun now tangled in her locks somewhere on the back of her head.

"No. We are prepared for whatever challenges out patients want to throw at us, but this isn't about the patients. This is about you, Miss Nicola. Can I call you that?"

"Call me whatever you want." She said, biting the inside of her cheek as her foot began tapping against the ground.

"I've heard word that you've been contacting HR and asking for a transfer. Is that right?" He asked, scratching the hastily groomed stubble on his cheek.

"Yes. I'm sure you've heard about why I want to transfer too."

"I have. A lot of people have. It's a…" He paused, thinking about how to word it properly, his hands intertwining together on his desk. "It's a somber predicament you're in, Nicola."

"Then you can understand why I want to get out of here, right?" She asked, voice hopeful.

"I do, but I think that we can arrive at some sort of compromise. I'm sure nobody here wants to see you leave." She bit harder on her cheek, trying hard not to bring up the fact that the only reason they would probably hate to see her leave was because she was one of the few women that worked there. She was good at her job. very good, but it didn't take much to clean up shit, cut lunatics' hair, and sedate the ones that get too rowdy for a doctor's taste.

"What kind of compromise? How can there be a compromise?" The tone in her voice dropped, the hope that someone was finally on her side dropping with it.

"Well, it's my professional opinion that being transferred isn't going to really help with your problem. You're only running away from it. Could you say, with confidence, that you have received any sort of closure since the incident?"

Her foot tapping became sporadic as her fingers worked at the hem of her shirt. "Closure? Sure. I got tons of closure when that madman got thrown in here. What more could I ask for?" Her eyes diverted away from his, looking to the papers and folders on his desk, attempting to read the names. The doctor was quick to shuffle the folders into some appearance of order, resting his arms on top of them.

"His file isn't here. I checked before you came in, and you could always ask him why he did what he did. Get some answers so you can move on."

"I don't need answers. I really don't. I don't want to know why. It's not going to change anything, Doctor Snow." She insisted, her eyes continuing to look elsewhere, finding a mystery stain on the wall that he failed to hide behind his desk. "I just want to get away from here. I'll keep working for Murkoff, just somewhere else."

"But that doesn't really solve anything, Nicola. What if, say a few years from now, something, heaven forbid, happens and you lose the chance to ask questions and get answers? Don't you think you'll regret that?"

"No! Why the hell would I regret that? I've been wishing for him to get shanked or hang himself every day since he-" She stopped, taking a deep breath, her lip quivering as she tilted her head ever so slightly to somehow make the tears forming in her eyes disappear, not wanting to cry in front of a doctor. Snow offered her a tissue he grabbed from a drawer in his desk, offering it to her.

"There's nothing wrong in still being hurt about it. It's only been about a year and a half, right?" Nicole nodded. "Right, and why I don't expect you to really want to confront him, in my professional opinion, I think it's what you need to do."

Her lips pursed together as she took the tissue, dabbing her eyes before looking down, sniffing loudly before wiping her nose. "I don't need to. I know I don't need to. This is fucking stupid. All of it is fucking stupid." She mumbled, saliva and mucus bubbling in her throat as she spoke. "This is fucking bullshit. I just want to get away from all of this."

The wrinkles in the man's face didn't deepen, his face seemingly stuck with a stoic expression. He had had his fair share of people crying and resisting in his office. "Nicola. I'm going to be honest here. While you are working at Mount Massive, we can't risk you causing any sort of mental or physical injury to other staff and patients, and to stop that from happening, we need you to be in the best condition possible." Nicola let out a loud, unrestrained sob, cupping her mouth with her hand as the tears and snot began pouring out. "I strongly recommend this. We'll have him physically restrained at all times and guards at the door. You won't be in any danger. If it's too much for you, we can stop and try again later, but I want you to at least try this."

Her body shook, muscles tense around her shoulders and chest as air filled and escaped her lungs too quickly, her cheeks beginning to turn red. "Please don't make me do this, Doctor Snow. Please. I don't want to go near him or see him and I-I-" Her breath hitched it her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing as she choked on her own spit. "P-please!" She shrieked before coughing again, holding the tissue to her mouth as she tried to spit up everything caught in her throat.

"I'm not going to make you do anything." Doctor Snow said over the sound of her wailing. "I can't make you do anything. It's against the law to force you to do this, but… Here." He offered her the half empty box of tissues, continuing to hold it out even after she wouldn't accept. "But, I honestly think it's for the best for all parties involved. Can you at least look at me when I'm talking to you?" Nicola quickly looked at him, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. "Please take the tissues and calm down." His tone was firm, his gesture of kindness not something that was an option. "Again, I can't make you do this, but trust me when I say that if you do not at least try, you are going to regret it, and I don't want you to regret anything."

Nicola continued to look at the doctor as he bowed his head, tired of watching the woman cry. She sniffled again, taking the box and pulling out at least six tissues, blowing her nose loudly. "I don't want to do this." She insisted, voice cracking.

"Nicole, if I thought there was any better route to solving this problem, I would tell you."

Her elbows came to rest on the desk as her hands supported her head. She could feel the veins in her head pulsing with her slowing heartbeat.

"Are the guards going to be inside the room?"

"They will be right outside the door, and the room has two cameras installed. He somehow lays a finger on you and the guards will be on him like flies on shit."

She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, her fingers lightly massaging her temples as she looked to him, sniffling once more.

"If I do this, and I say I can't do it anymore or for any other reason, I want a promise that I'll be transferred."

"I can't promise that, but I can try to pull some strings."

"And I mean a real transfer, not to accounting or to the cafeteria staff. I don't like the fact that there are only bars between him and me. I want there to be oceans between us. I'll even learn a new language if I have to. It's not like I have anything here anymore, obviously." She gestured to the empty space next to her as she wiped away a stray tear.

"Try and I will do everything I can to get you what you want."

She reclined in her seat, taking a moment to breathe as she looked around, taking as many moments as she could.

"Nicola?"

"Fine. Fine. I'll do it." She said, holding her hands up in surrender. "If you don't mind, though. I'd like the rest of the day off, if you can arrange that."

"I can and will."

"Thanks." She said, quick to stand up from her chair, putting his tissue box back on his desk. "Schedule the closest possible time for this. I want to get this over and done with."

"Absolutely, and if you need anything else, don't be afraid to ask me or one of the other doctors. We're here to help you as much as we're here to help the patients."

Nicola didn't bother responding, only lazily waving goodbye as she exited the office, leaving the good doctor to find the polaroids he had lost in his mess of papers and folders, the faint, metallic clicking noise beginning again soon after she closed the door.