Makeup
B-Level held the violent ones, and Nathan hated having to make rounds here. Having watched his new partner walk off the job earlier, he was left to walk the halls virtually alone. The noises that came from the cells on B-Level could just about drive him to want to crawl into a cell himself and lock the door behind him just to get away from the din of madness that the patients spouted until the thorazine cocktails kicked in.
One patient creeped him out the most: the little fella, in room 19, with the crazy hair. This one threw fits but sometimes it seemed he could come up with an edge weapon out of nowhere. Nathan outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, but wanted no part of the psychotic little man yet here he was being sent again, to clean some warped scrawling from the walls. Thank God the nurses had put on his makeup before working him into the straight jacket. They hated to let him wear “his face”, but the makeup was the only thing that could keep him calm.
