At first I wasn't quite sure why I was getting ready in the first place, seeing as I never checked the time and for all I know it could be 2 am, yet I had the overwhelming, subconscious confidence that the hospital was where I wanted to be right now. Perhaps it was to get my mind off of myself and "Mallory" for now. Lastly, putting on my dark brown shoes, I head out, and get into my car. Noticing my hands shake, I take a deep breath and start driving. It was a slow and dreadful drive. Multiple red lights that wouldn't turn green, leaving me alone with my thoughts in which I feel a painful stab of sadness just before I feel euphoric. I had completely forgotten what I do at work in the first place. I had forgotten about my studies and experiments. That's what my subconscious was telling me before. My nightly terror consumed my mind so much that I forgot about the one joy I have in life. How silly of me. A cheeky grin appeared on my face before taking a turn, continuing my way to the hospital. Once I arrived I wasted no time taking my lab coat and heading into my patients room. It was still quite early so none of my coworkers had arrived yet. Or will for the next hour. My patient had severe alzheimers mixed with other mental illnesses, she barely spoke or responded to me, just nodding if she wanted anything. She wouldn't eat unless I shoved it down her throat. So, instead of her daily medicine I gave her a healthy amount of Propofol. Not to fully shut her down but to sedate her for a while. I doubt anyone will notice or miss her for a matter of fact. I rarely see anyone visiting her and when they do I'll just tell them she passed. Picking her up gently, I brought her to the laboratory downstairs. Since its mine alone, as in I'm not even sure if my coworkers know of this place, I haven't taken care of it in a while. There's chemicals everywhere and dried, brown blood stains cover some parts of my desk. I make an effort to clean up for the most part but in reality it's not a priority of mine. In fact it never has been. As I laid my numb patient on the rusty bed I checked if I had all my tools. Just before I could get to it she started to regain consciousness. This wasn't a problem since the dosage I gave her restricted her from most movements, thus leaving her as nothing but a doll. No screams. No movements. It seemed as if she was just a vessel. It reminded me of Mallory. Before I got lost in thought again I reminded myself of my studies and took out a needle. Fully opening her eyes I stick it straight into her brain, causing her to jerk and lose consciousness completely. I usually have more fun with my patients before killing them completely, but I haven't got the time to occupy myself with such a thing. I started tracing my scalpel across her visible collarbone. She was very pale,making the blood running down look much brighter than it usually would.I smirked and continued cutting, lifting her skin and exposing the vermillion flesh underneath. Taking a syringe and filling it I squeeze just a little out, pouring it on her exposed muscle and watching it foam. That wasn't good. It's not supposed to do that. I've been working on perfecting my recipe for a while now, however I feel as if I've lost all motivation and run out of ideas. Ive wasted such beautiful skin and flesh with a failed project. Sighing to myself I put some sheets over her and put my tools away, staring at the liquid that still remained in my syringe.