Davey thinks back on just how he got this job, and gets into an altercation with a bitch who refuses to open the door.
Before he left entirely for the day, Davey had one more thing to do. Go visit Ashley. He rode to the floor the other man was in in the elevator, wincing every time the machine creaked and groaned. It was tiny and stuffy in there, and the buttons didn't fully light up, sometimes not at all. The screen above the door that was supposed to show which way the elevator was headed and what floor they were on was fucked as well. It didn't even light up, not a single flicker from a single bulb.
The cheap linolium tiles were peeling up, and it was near impossible to tell what color they had been before. The walls were a yellowed, faded off-white color, stained by the years, with so many scuff marks and dark stains from shoes near the bottom, it was a cry for renovation. The entire tiny elevator stank of stale sweat, and something that smelled suspiciously like urine. The annoying elevator music that they played to accompany it was tinny and whiny, and definitely needed to be gone.
Davey was stuck in there for over 5 minutes, as he ascertained by checking the time on his phone. He tried to breathe in as little of the disgusting smell in that place as possible, taking very shallow breaths through his mouth. And he had thought that the cafeteria at his elementary school had stank! Once again he questioned why the hell he had taken up a job here, even if it were temporary. It wasn't like AFI was doing badly. In fact, they were doing very wonderful, with a new album set to come out in the next few months, and sales at an all time high.
Then that annoying little voice in his head reminded him, that he had taken it up on a whim. One morning he was sitting there drinking his coffee, reading the newspaper, and happened to flip to one of those jobs advertising pages. He didn't need a job, as being singer for AFI was his job. But he happened to scan over them anyhow, and ended up finding out that this crappy assed hospital needed another psychologist, seeing as the old one had probably died.
Not really understanding why he was doing it, he had called them up and applied for the job. They didn't really ask for past experience and reference, which was good, seeing as he had none. All he really had was that degree floating around. But somehow, they accepted him anyways, seeing as no one else had bothered to apply for the job. Now he understood why, seeing as the place was so pathetic.
All that had gone down maybe a week or two ago, meaning that he had just taken up to position there. And now he realized something. When he replaced the doctor that had left, he had taken all of the old bastard's cases. That old fart was the one who had reccommended that Ashley stay locked up for such a long time. Sure, it had taken 2 other doctors to agree to it. But they were the type that would easily be swayed by anything told to them by another so-called professional.
"Holy Shit!" Davey yelled, just as the elevator dinged to a stop. Now he thought that he knew his purpose! To fix all the fucked-assed cases the old fart did! How many more were out there, he wondered? It was a huge, if falling down place. There were a ton of rooms. Ashley's case was the first that he had to review, considering that he had just started.
He walked down the hall calmly, nodding to the orderlies. When got to the maximum security rooms, he simply the nurse his hospital ID. "What do ya need?" The grumpy lady snarled at him. "I need to speak to one of the patients."
"About?" She asked, boredly. "It's a confidential matter."
"These patients ain't supposed to get visitors." She said, snapping her gum. "I am a doctor here, as you can clearly see by this ID." Davey said, waving it under her nose. He wasn't the type to be a jerk, but when circumstances required it of him, he would do his very best. And one thing that he most certainly couldn't stand was the rampant ignorance of some idiots that he was forced to put up with.
Before she could open her mouth with another droll remark, he continued on, voice dangerouly low, "If you, as a worker in this place, refuse to allow a doctor to see his own patients, you are interfereing with their treatment and well-being. So, if you do not let me in this instant, I will have no choice but to file a complaint. I can have your license as a nurse revoked, and you will lose your job here, and will not be able to work in the medical field again. And trust me, this can all happen within a week."
The lady only gave him a glare, before saying, "Go in." and pressing the button that led to the rest of the wing.