Day 490

Her wheelchair rolled itself out of the Patient Relaxation Bay by itself again.
The nurses thought she got another patient to push her but how could she?
Unable to move so much as an inch she was left at the mercy of the world.
Her family thought a special needs centre was the best option.
She thought they'd abandoned her.
They were all correct.

Her chair moved her through the long corridors and into the elevator.
Taking her from the ground floor to the very top.
It seemed to like taking her there and opening the balcony doors, leaving her up high.
Admittedly she liked the view as the centre was near the top of a hill.
The biting wind and faint whispers from the floor below were less pleasant.
Not like she could talk about them though and eventually they understood that.

Their voices grew louder as they began telling her things about the centre, about who they'd been.
Each one spoke of their death like it had been the greatest point of their life.
Each one spoke about the painfully white light that met them only to realise it was the morgue.
One voice in particular (a man called Jaque) had been poisoned and took days to go.
He'd finally succumbed late at night, choking in his own blood.
His voice stood out as being the only one that sounded like he was speaking underwater.

She became used to her balcony trips as did the staff until it was never questioned.
They would wheel her into the Relaxation Bay and her chair would wheel her to the ghosts.
Every time there was a new voice, someone else who'd died all of a sudden.
She hadn't noticed before how few patients there were in the centre.
The dead never said who had killed them, only that they knew the were murdered.
They always assured her she wouldn't be next, said the staff had to keep her for appearances.

Seems the locals had noticed her on the balcony and grown used to her.
Called her "our little watcherwoman" and thought fondly of her presence.
None of them ever visited her though, not even once.
Still, for now they were keeping her alive with their little nickname and kind thoughts.
Eventually it stopped working and she too was killed though she won't ever say who did it.
Her faint white figure still sits up there with the others, always in that wheelchair.

They say that if you go into the old centre at around midday you can see her chair moving.
It'll still wheel itself to the elevator and up to the balcony where she'll sit.
If you have the right eyes you'll see her bold as brass, talking to the others.
They don't sit though, they hover around the balcony ledge like they're unable to come inside.
Some reckon she's stopping them, the watcherwoman is protecting anyone who trespasses.
You see it's not the patients you should fear in there - it's the doctors.