I made my daily rounds, rooms 398-402. It almost didn't even take conscious thought to go through the routine anymore. Five rooms, four patients. First up was Mrs Newbaur, room 398. She was new to the ward. She'd been her three weeks, ever since her husband was shot and killed in front of her. It was always hard for me to deal with the new ones, that hollow look in their eyes seem to steal any semblance of happiness around you.

I made my way into her room where she sat, her gaze fixed somewhere far from this place.

"Good morning, Mrs, Newbaur. How are you feeling today." I tried sounding as chipper and possible.

Her head turned slowly in my direction, her eyes met mine, then she went back to vacant staring.

I felt bad for her therapist, usually there would be a little more progress by now, but some cases just took a little longer I supposed. I placed the small cup of pills on the table next to her bed. She was very good about taking them, so i didnt bother staying to make sure she did.

After informing her of when her next session of therapy was and telling her dinner would be up soon I left her, hearing the rattle of the pills in the cup as I went.

My next in line was the polar opposite of Mrs. Newbaur. Sonny had been here 23 years, as many as i'd been alive. He was considered a high risk, dangerous patient thoughout the hospital, but not to me however. No one is quite sure why but me and his current therapist have never seen the bad side. It does exist, if the quadruple homicide had anything to do with it, but to me he was nothing but sweet.

"Sonny?" I said, making my way to the table where he was feverently writing something down