The story of an hour

It was 6 o'clock in the morning.Everything seemed to be perfect by now. Until I reached room 601. It was a normal day, as always, the less I could Expect from a psychiatric hospital. The bright and white light,filling every corridor of the 4th floor, and that particular smell of medicine running through my veins. That's it,I was there, just in front of door 601 a world of different realities was waiting for me.
Once i got in, I knew I couldn't get out. He was there sitting patiently in his chair looking at nowhere, breathing without making any sound, he pointed at the other chair infront of him. He was inviting me to his new trip.I sat down in front of him and as always with both of his arms he grabbed my head. But there was something wrong this time,everything started to seem blured and a terrible headache invaded me.Suddenly the light was off. I was in a big house, full of stairs and windows.
The house was well decorated, a great fragance of flowers could be smelled. Suddenly an awful scream could be heard, a dreadful laughter filled the house with horror and a strange sense of fear. I ran up to the room where the body of a little girl was laying sorrounded by blood. But wait! who was the one standing at her side?yes,it was him...my patient.
I dind't know If i was dreaming or if it was reality but i started to scream and wanted to get out from that horrible house where a little girl had been murdered. I couldn't get to the front door, I fell down from the stairs, I broke my leg, it hurt too much for me to continue running, but then I saw him, walking towards me, he grabbed my fragile head again and everything started spinning.
Again that particular smell of medicine appeared, I was in hospital, that white light was illuminating the floor, my patient wasn't there, I was sleeping on the floor,wait! I was wearing that green coat that only patients have....I ran up to my bedroom door and saw through the other side of the glass my patient wearing my white coat...-How could it be possible?..It can't be-...
He was laughing at me, he only repeated the number 7 pointing at his watch.

By chivi