The nurse known as Lampman quickly dropped his broom, then approached, squatting down and tilting his head to inspect the wheel. He said, "Ah, Doctor Schiller, it seems the bearings are jammed. Hold on..."
While he spoke, Lampman stood and looked around, appearing hesitant as he said, "We probably need a wrench. I'll go fetch one from the tool room."
"No need, let's return it to the prep room. Recreation time is about to start, we need your assistance."
Lampman's movements stiffened again. Glancing up at the doctor, he seamlessly pulled down his face mask.
The doctor was a perfect archetype of a physician, mature, steady, and refined, with a touch of scholarly aura. He had a calming voice and endless patience with his patients. However, when he saw the doctor's face, Lampman immediately averted his gaze. He swiftly turned away, placing a hand over his mouth as though to conceal his reaction.
"What's wrong?" the doctor known as Schiller asked, his voice filled with concern. "Feeling unwell again? Where's your lighter? Comfort items can help you stabilize your mood."
"No, nothing at all..." Lampman took in a deep breath, seemingly gathering his courage before again addressing Schiller. "Who's assigned to recreation time today? Will Cindy be..."
"No, she has just been medicated and is already asleep. Lately, her mood has been quite stable. I think she can participate in recreation tomorrow, or the day after."
"Wait." Lampman suddenly spoke up, his fingers clenched and the muscles in his arm trembling. "I heard from a PhD that Storm Woman might be inspecting the hospital tomorrow. She... is tough to handle. Doctor, what should we..."
"It's okay, stick to the routine." Schiller shook his head with an air of nonchalant, pausing for a moment before saying, "Alright, tomorrow I'll increase Newdey's medication a bit, to keep her from wandering off."
After finishing, he began to push the somewhat faulty cart outward. Lampman followed behind him, saying, "Doctor, let me push it. It seems to be quite damaged."
"It doesn't matter. How have you been lately? Is your compulsive behavior still frequently occurring?"
"A little..." Lampman lowered his head and took a deep sigh, saying, "Sometimes, I still wake up in the middle of the night, walk to the mirror, or keep pacing beside my bed. I can't quite control myself."
"It's okay, no treatment could be cured in a single step. There's no miracle drug in this world that can instantly cure all diseases. If someone tells you there is, then they must be bluffing."
"Thank you." Lampman moved forward and took the small cart from Schiller's hands. He pushed the cart forward, his voice trembling slightly as he said, "You are a good doctor... the best one I've ever met."
Schiller adjusted his glasses and asked, "Have you met other doctors? You've never mentioned that before."
Lampman's fingers suddenly started shaking, he stammered, "Yes, but not a psychiatrist. I once burned myself and saw a burn specialist..."
"What did he say?"
The veins in Lampman's hand tightly grasping the handle of the cart were visible. This seemed to trigger a painful memory. He said, "I didn't speak with him at all, my dad did all the talking."
"He told my dad that such incidents might occur frequently." Lampman said with a restrained breath. His next utterance followed the lengthy sigh, "But, my dad didn't care."
"I mentioned before, there's no point in constantly thinking about those who used to control you mentally. I know, breaking free from their hold is difficult, but you must attempt it. Or else, you can never be your true self."
Lampman inhaled deeply twice, his fingers slowly relaxed. "I have tried, just as you suggested. Actually, it feels really good. It's been such a long time since I've had a good rest..."
After finishing, he turned to look at Schiller. This time, he couldn't hide his facial expressions simply by averting his gaze. Seeing Schiller's eyes, he expressed an immediate moment of fear, quickly replaced with gratitude, but almost immediately returned to fear.
This drastic change in his facial expression made him appear as if he was suffering involuntarily facial spasms. Lampman swallowed hard and turned his head back, trying hard to control his emotions.
He wondered: since when had his life, once devoid of hope, begun to change?
Perhaps it was a few months ago on a particular night, when lightning struck and the shattering of glass awakened him. Not that he was asleep to begin with.
Now, recalling the events of that night, he still found it miraculous. He remembered standing in a hallway, gazing at shattered glass all over the floor and a man in a white coat clutching a job offer. That was Schiller.
Lampman, pushing the cart along the corridor, shook his head. He didn't quite recall the incident accurately. All he remembered was Doctor Schiller picking himself up from the floor, appearing slightly flustered, but showing no trace of anger.
In the dim-lit corridor, Lampman saw Schiller open the notification from his hand. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips accompanied by a mutter, "So this is your way of handling a troublemaker? Throwing me suddenly into a strange world?"