Santi: The Devil's Pioneer

Chapter 7 - Meeting Doc Lola

    Santi's mind was absent and blank. She could not stop thinking about the tick she felt inside her. She was almost sure it was a heart beating inside her chest. But that was impossible.

Growing up, watching human lives as they behave in hellish behaviors and make life-changing mistakes like a movie, she often wondered why and how they could be driven by their emotions to commit wrongdoings, even when they knew with absolute certainty that what awaited after was a hell of a punishment. She had seen ministers molesting kids, brother against brother, people murdering people for the sake of personal gain. A gain she never understood how it weighed more than a burning soul.

She could never understand for she had never felt what it was like to have a heart, beating inside your chest, allowing you to feel everything lively in the world. She never could relate to the strong emotions of love, happiness, and passion. She grew up angry, sad, cold, and distant. Instead of a beating heart, she felt a raging fire burning within her at every moment.

By now, Santi was held by the two police officers by the arms, cautious she might try to make a run for it again. They were just leaving the elevator and walk down a hallway. From what she could gather, they were in a hospital. Oddly, she felt welcomed. Like she belongs.

Hospitals are known to be the deathbed of millions. Drug dealers, murderers, thieves, and convicts. Their soul sometimes goes from their hospital room straight to their own personal torture room in Hell. Although some, as rumored, never actually make it to Satan's paradise and are left roaming the halls of their hospital room. This was a spiritual belief and more of a joke to Santi.

There was nothing spiritual nor paranormal about the dead. They simply cease to exist and register their souls to endless screaming contests.

"Hi, what I can do for you today, gentlemen?" A nurse in the reception area smiles brightly at them, keenly observing her cuffed hands and the cautious face the policemen held.

"Hi, we're here to see Doc Lola. We called ahead. We're with the NYPD for a psych eval on a recent prisoner." One of the policemen answered.

The nurse gets up and walks toward the hallway on the left, leading to more doors, until they arrive in front of one labeled as Lolita Grahams, MD, and under it, read Psychiatrist. Santi wasn't very familiar with those words.

"We're going to have you evaluated for your mental stability, is that alright with you?" The police officer talks to her before they proceed down the hall.

Santi stares at him, ignoring his question completely.

"A psychiatrist is going to ask you a series of questions before we can take you in for a 24-hour detention. We're gonna need you to cooperate, alright miss?" The other one speaks after Santi's deafening silence. Both cops shake their heads at the uncooperativeness Santi was showing. Although, after all, to them, she was but another problematic teenager.

The nurse knocks on the door, and a woman in a white lab coat answers. The nurse then leaves them alone.

"Hi, Tom. Hi, Ray. A little early to bring a patient today, are we?" She smirks and crosses her arms in front of her body, leaning onto the doorway.

"Hi, Doc Lola. We're sorry to check in so early. Tom thinks you should check her out. She's a little edgy. We have a reckless teen here. Almost crashed into a pole on our way down here." One of the policeman sighs, handing Santi forward to the doctor.

"Why? What happened?" Doc Lola asks, concerned. She examines her physical appearance and looks over her and under, but never touched her body as she does this. She immediately expressed worry as she looks at her face. The cops notice this and determine that was definitely not a positive sign for them. She beckons for Santi to sit on the physician's chair and holds up her cuffed arms. "Do you mind, Ray?"

"Well, we kind of think she's a flight risk, especially given the near-pole crashing incident this morning, and we're absolutely sure she can be quite destructive." Ray, one of the policemen, answers.

"I'm a psychiatrist, Ray. I'm sure I can handle a reckless teen. Now get them." She says in a flat tone.

Ray chuckles as he scrambles to take the cuffs off. Given the unusual banter the cops and the doctor showed, apparently, Santi wasn't the first person arrested and brought to a psychiatrist by these officers.

"You're gettin' real bossy, Lola," Ray says as he steps back and places the cuffs on the table.

Santi looks around her, awakened as if she had been daydreaming this whole time. She hadn't noticed being brought to the hospital. All she knew was that was she was exhausted.

Doc Lola checks her body, this time using her hands to check for bruises and wounds, flashing light on her eyes, and doing the works. Everything, of course, was done with Santi's submissive consent. She then takes a seat opposite Santi and begins to chat.