The Man in the Iron Mask

I waited patiently by Sarah’s door as she finished up with our newest patient. Sarah, Ms Fallow, was our top psychiatrist. I had trouble understanding exactly how she would access someone that wasn’t supposed to be speaking. I wondered how we might police that. Surely, it went against human rights… but then he wasn’t exactly human, anyway. Or, so I’d heard.

The door finally opened, and Sarah closed it quickly behind her.

“Be careful with this one,” she said in a hushed tone. “He’s…” She sighed, but never finished her sentence. “You’ll see.” She opened the door once more, and out slipped a tall, thin character with a rather peculiar mask across his face. We’d never had a patient like that before, one that had to be so basically constrained. Usually they were in handcuffs if we were to be cautioned, but never had their voices been taken away. They were here to be helped, not silenced. As he walked forward, I noticed the handcuffs, too.

I was already annoyed over this case but of course, I reminded myself of who he was. He’d killed thousands of people. It was only now, years later, that New York City had been cleaned up. He’d caused world-wide panic over an alien force, and now that was all we heard about whenever anything strange occurred. I didn’t understand why they’d kept him alive, and I guess I’d never know.

“Mr Laufeyson? I’m Madeline.”

“He prefers Loki.”

“How do you know?” I asked Sarah in a low voice.

“He’s allowed to write, providing that we keep a record of absolutely everything he scribbles on.”

“If you’d come with me, Loki, I have a shower waiting for you.” He gave me a long, hard stare before following me up the hallway. I noticed as he peered inside some of the rooms at other patients as most of them slept, it being quite late now. He’d had a long day. Not only had he seen Sarah, but a doctor and 2 SHIELDS agents had visited him in his room earlier on.

We walked inside the empty bathroom block and I locked the door behind us in one of the rooms. Naturally, this was my least favourite part of any patient’s day. Usually I’d have 2 armed guards with me as we had to remove handcuffs and this could lead to dangerous situations for a carer like me with a prisoner that perhaps didn’t understand that the entire complex was monitored. As it was past 10 though all the guards had gone home, and the hospital had deemed it safe enough for me to watch him on my own. Sarah hadn’t seemed worried, so I knew I’d be okay.

“You have 10 minutes,” I told him as I took off his handcuffs and sat down behind the wall that jutted out to allow people some privacy. I blushed every time I had to check on him, making sure he wasn’t drowning himself or trying to break off a tile to use as an object of self destruction. I hated having male patients, though sometimes the females were worse. The third time I checked on him, I noticed the tiny scratch across his left wrist that had been the cause to send him here. It was nowhere near enough to have killed him, but I guess they wanted to be safe. In this complex, it would be much harder for him to find anything that might harm himself, or anyone else that might harm him. I could somewhat understand their concern for his wellbeing. If there was ever another attack, this would be their man. I heard as he turned the water off, and then gave him time to dress into clean clothes.

“Loki, your time is up. I’m coming around now,” I warned him, and got up to place his handcuffs back on. My mouth hung open as I turned the corner to see he’d been writing into the condensation on the mirror, something I knew he wasn’t supposed to do if it couldn’t be documented. He stood there as if he’d done absolutely nothing, and continued to comb out his hair and attempt to smooth it over the top of his head and flick it out at the ends.

Don’t find yourself peeking again.

I blushed at his words, but it was my job to watch him. His eyes were boring into mine through the mirror, and I was quick to put those cuffs back on the instant he’d given up on his hair and left it to fall down around his face in the waves it naturally fell into.

“It’s my job to watch you, Loki. Believe me when I say I get no joy out of it.” The look still dancing in his eyes told me that he didn’t care for my job. I would be glad to have those guards there the following night. There was something unsettling about his apparent need for privacy, when I knew he understood why he couldn’t have it.