Chapter 1 : Arrival
The gravel crunched beneath her boots like bones.
Margaret Thatcher tightened the strap on her bag and looked up at the building—the so-called St. Augustine Psychiatric Institute. Its stone façade rose high above her, veined with ivy and shadow, windows like black, watching eyes. It didn’t look like a hospital. It looked like it had once devoured one.
She told herself the chill that snaked down her spine was just the wind off the cliffs. Icelandic air always had a way of feeling… personal.
“This is temporary,” she muttered. “Just one patient. One week.”
That’s what they’d told her. A special assignment. A patient who claimed to hear voices—two, specifically. Male. Affectionate. Obsessive. The case file had been thin, photocopied so many times the name had faded. Even the intake date was blurred. But Margaret had seen the drawings—pages filled with spirals, symbols, and a name scratched over and over again:
Christopher Parsons.
She stepped through the iron gate. It groaned behind her as it closed.
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Inside, the building was too quiet. No nurses. No distant murmurs. Just ticking—somewhere, a clock, echoing like a heartbeat.
She followed the corridor, her footsteps echoing. The floor plan she’d memorized didn’t match what she saw. Hallways led to blank walls. Doors labeled “Ward C” opened into empty parlors with peeling wallpaper and crumbling portraits.
It felt… theatrical. Like a set built for a performance she hadn’t rehearsed.
At the end of one hall, she paused.
A mirror stood propped against the wall—tall, antique, cracked in the center. Her reflection stared back, pale and uncertain. But something about it was wrong.
Her reflection wasn’t blinking.
Then it smiled.
Margaret staggered back, breath catching.
Behind her, a voice whispered—calm, warm, just behind her ear: “Welcome home, Doctor.”
She looked over her shoulder—no one was there. Maybe it was her imagination, thanks to caffeine and sleepless nights. She walked toward the chief's office.
“Derek Marsh.”
After knocking twice, a low “Come in” was heard.
She entered. A man in his mid-sixties sat behind a wooden table that looked like it had been bought from an antique shop.
“Welcome, Doctor,” his deep voice rumbled.
“Thanks, Chief,” Margaret said, putting on a fake smile—perfect enough to pass as genuine.
“As you know, St. Augustine Institute is very famous for its effective treatments. And for the record, I don’t want it to lose that reputation. That’s why I called you here. I’m hoping you won’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t, Chief.”
“Take a seat.”
She sat on a wooden chair similar to the table.
“We’ll provide you with a room here in the institution. And I’ll make sure no one troubles you—and by trouble, I mean the other patients. Stay away from them...”
The last line didn’t sound casual—it felt more like a warning.
“They always trouble the newcomers.”
He laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine. Choosing to ignore it, Margaret stood to leave.
“And... Sasha, my assistant, will show you your room. She should be outside.”
“Okay, Chief. I’ll leave now. Thanks for the meeting.”
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Outside, a blonde-haired girl stood near the counter. Dressed in a neatly ironed uniform, her face looked pale. The dark circles under her eyes made it clear Margaret wasn’t the only one running on caffeine and sleepless nights.
“Hello, Doc,” Sasha greeted her enthusiastically.
“Hello. You must be Sasha!”
“Yeah—Sasha Carter. I’m the Chief’s assistant, and I’ll be the one to guide you,” she stated politely.
“This way, Doc.”
“After you.”
They both walked through the hallway and stopped in front of a room. Its door frame was cracked in a few places. Sasha opened the door, which creaked loudly. It looked like a master bedroom.
“This will be your room. It’s far away from the wards, so there won’t be any patients to disturb you... DON’T DISTURB THEM.”
Margaret looked at her instantly. What? Don’t disturb them? Did she really say that, or did she hear wrong?
“I’m sorry, what?” she asked.
“The patients—they won’t be able to disturb you,” Sasha said, smiling cheekily enough to make it seem like she hadn’t said what Margaret thought she did.
“I’ll take my leave. Take some rest, Doctor. If you need anything, there’s a telephone on the nightstand. I’m just one call away.”
“Thank you, Sasha.”
“It’s my pleasure, Doc.”
She left, shutting the door behind her. Margaret sucked in a deep breath, calming her nerves before sitting on the bed. It was huge and made a cracking noise under her weight.
“It’s going to be fine,” she said to herself, taking a few more deep breaths, her shoulders hunched.
Standing, she moved toward the washroom to freshen up. Later, she climbed into bed, pulling the soft duvet over her body, and fell into a deep slumber.
To be continued...
