I really don't want to be here, but I need to if I want to keep my job and get to stay in New York. If it doesn't go well, I'll have to went back to my parents and my brother, and work in the fields.

I enter the Metropolitan Hospital. How can a place like this exist in New York? The contrast with the busy streets is striking. The area is shut down by heavy doors. The only glance one can get at the outside world is through a bay window.

"Please let me in, I will only take a few pictures," I bargain with the nurse at the entry. She became so much colder when I told her I was a journalist.

"Shoo, go away! You so-called journalists only come her for your morbid curiosity," she says.

"Why, is there anything morbid in there?" I talk back, narrowing my eyes.

The middle-aged nurse frowns. "If you got no other business here then you might as well leave immediately because you are not welcome here."

She leaves, ignoring my pleas. What now? I didn't even manage to get in. I leave the hospital, discouraged and thinking about the excuses I will have to tell my parents to justify my return to the farm.

Walking in a near street, I notice a very visible sign on which I read 'employees only'. Maybe I can go in through this way... Without thinking twice, I push the metallic door and sneak in. I arrive in a quite dark, warm, and humid room and manage to turn the lights on.

There are sheets and uniforms. It must be the hospital's laundry room! I find a recently washed uniform. How convenient. It would make it so much easier for me to get in...

It's a dress meant for women, but I don't mind putting it on that much. There is something thrilling about being undercover, especially with disguises involved. This is how committed I am. I slide on the long dress, the white stockings, and the low heels.

As soon as I'm done putting on my outfit, I hear some women get closer. I take a deep breath and leave the laundry room. The women notice me immediately.

"Hey, do you need help?" one of them asks.

I try to look down, betting all I have on my androgyny to make me look feminine enough. Women these days all wear their hair truly short so that plays in my favor.

"Yeah, um, the weather was terrible these last few days. The chief nurse wants to make sure that there's no lack of material and all." I try to invent an excuse. I'm pretty good at lying.

"No need to worry about supplying. The sheets and uniforms are dried in advance," one of the women explains.

"Good idea. I will recommend you in my report."

I notice a door behind the laundry employees, I salute them and walk by that door. I can't believe it! I'm in the hospital! I'm excited, but also a little lost. This place is vast, where should I begin?

"Hey, what are you doing here? We must go to bloc B!" A nurse calls.

"A-are you talking to me?" I point at myself in surprise. At least my disguise is working, or the nurse is simply way too busy to take the time to properly look at me.

"Who else? Come on, let's go!"

"O-okay, let's go..." say I shyly. What the hell am I getting into?

"Where are you going? Bloc B is this way!" She grabs my arm. Damnit, the nurse is going to understand that I don't know the place...

I roll up my sleeve and glance at the nurse walking behind me. She is looking at me with suspicion. I must do something before she calls security.

"Somebody help!" I hear someone yell which startles me. "They're going to hurt me, help!"

A young lady wearing a white hospital piece of clothing comes out of nowhere and clutches onto me. She seems terrified.

"It's okay, calm down. Tell me what's wrong." I look down at her.

"T-they want to lock me up again! But I behaved, why would they want me to lock me up again?" the woman asks, alarmed.

"They? Who is 'they'?"

"They want..." she trailed off. "H-help me... I'm so cold. I'm starving..." She notices my uniform and lets go of me right away. "I'm so sorry! I'll be good, I'll be a good girl..."

Dear Lord.

As the nurse behind is away, I grab the patient and tell her softly. "Listen, I'm not a nurse. I'm a journalist. I'm undercover."

Her eyes widen. "Really? Can you help me, mister journalist? I really want to go home," she whimpers out.

"Of course. But first, tell me about-"

"-Hannah." A man walks into the conversation. It would be nice if people could stop startling me.

I eye the man. He is frankly short, strong-looking, hair well-combed and black as the darkest, starless night. He is wearing a white shirt, khaki suit with a waistcoat the same color, burgundy tie. On top of that, a long, black trench coat and leather gloves.

That's what my first glance can depict. He has this subtle, reassuring and...somewhat patronizing smile. It makes me want to believe that he is trustworthy.

"Are you here to bring me home, cousin dear?" the young woman, Hannah, asks full of a paradoxical mix of hopes and despair.

"I'm sorry, Hannah, but I must wait for things to improve before I can bring you home." The man shakes his head.

"I don't want to be here, I miss home," Hannah whines.

"If you have the means, Sir, you should consider bringing her home. She misses you all a lot," I tell the man, unsure of who I'm referring to.

The shorter man turns to me and smiles at me with benevolence. "Thank you for your suggestion. I will consider it."

"Can somebody help me? Emily Taylor is relapsing again!" The nurse I interacted with earlier shouts from the second floor.

I shouldn't stay here. I must avoid contact with others at all costs. I recede behind a corner, but my sudden movement catches the nurse's attention.

"You, there! Hurry up please, I need your help."

I don't have a choice. I don't want to seem any more suspicious than I already am. As I walk through the hospital, I witness a form of despair that is beyond what I could imagine. I see violent nurses, indifferent doctors and brutalized patients.

"Quick, grab the straps!" The nurse tells me.

Straps? What for?

I enter a room with the nurse, dragging heavy straps with me. The room is in a pitiful state. The walls are dirty, and the sheets are stained. It looks like a prison.

There is a woman in patient clothing, convulsing violently on the bed while nurses struggle to keep her in place.

"Stop watching and tie her down" I am ordered. I grab the woman's arms and tie down both her wrists with the thick, white leather. Once she was restrained, the nurses left the room.

I glance at the patient. Her shirt is ripped, her brown hair is disheveled and hides her face. A weak cry escapes her throat. I can't tell if it was uttered out of sadness or anger. Maybe both.

"Don't stay too close to her and watch over her. I'm going to go talk to Dr. Freeman so he proceeds to her operation." The same nurse tells me.

"Her operation? What operation?" I frown.

"Her lobotomy, of course. How can you be unaware of it? It was explained several times?"

Good God, the brain is such a complex organ, who would dare touch it?

"Of course I know. Tying down the patient just distraught me. I just forgot." I shake my head.

The nurse huffs. "Don't think that you can just stand there and look pretty. Such a job is hard to find." She soon leaves the room, leaving me alone with the patient.

"Is Julia here? Have you seen Julia?" She asks me. I notice that she is hugging a doll. "Julia, my sweet child, where are you?"

It's hard to understand the woman's – Emily's – message. Even if she is making this up, I could at least try to get some information from her. I crouch to appear less threatening.

"Did something happen to Julia?" I ask Emily.

"Oh! Dad said that he was looking for Julia. He promised to bring her back! Emily's father is the greatest detective in the world! That's why Emily loves Dad!"

I sigh softly. "...Did your dad manage to find Julia?"

"No... Dad died, and Emily no longer has a home..." Emily pouted. "Dad and Julia are both gone. Emily is left without anything."

"What happened to your dad, Emily?" I inquired.

"They said that dad had committed suicide! But Emily doesn't believe it! He must still be looking for Julia! Emily will wait that Julia comes back from school. Emily will wait for dad to come back from the train station. Emily will wait... And will keep on waiting..."

Emily is incoherent, but I can understand her. I can connect the dots of the story; the tragic story of a woman who lost her daughter and father. What an awful life. It would be a nice topic to write about, but I should double-check the information.

While I'm writing my article in my mind, a young nurse storms inside the room.

"Her operation was postponed to next month. I don't know why they're insisting on having Dr. Freeman perform such a simple procedure."

"I mean, Dr. Freeman is famous, after all. But... Can Ms. Taylor afford this operation?" I ask.

"She has a relative who is paying for her," the nurse replies.

"That's... a great luck," I state, unconvinced. "Did she really lose her father and daughter?"

"Why do you care so much about her?"

"It's just that... It's hard to believe that one single person can go through so much misery."

"Misery is quite common for the people who got no money nor power in New York," the nurse replied. "This hospital is handled by the city, so certain things lack transparency. If you want to prevent any 'accident' to happen to you, don't ask so many questions while you are here."

Wow... It's hard to change a whole city by oneself. But I'm a journalist. I can't give up so easily.

"I can't close my eyes on this."

The nurse smiled. "Really? Well, we'll see how things will go for you... Let's go eat something."

I am brought to a more welcoming room that seems to be the nurses' room.

"You should have seen Jessica. Once I was done with her, she was begging on her knees." A middle-aged nurse tells the others. "Her husband gave up on her a long time ago, how dare she look so haughty and proud around us?"

"I heard she knew influent people though, maybe we should show some restrain."

"Alright, alright." The first nurse replies. I try to see the face of that nurse, catching her attention. Oh no, it's the nurse that was at the entry!

"I- uh, have to pee, I'll be back soon."

"Huh, you...?"

"Stop her- him! That man is a journalist!" The middle-aged nurse orders.

I start to run.

By some miracle, I manage not only to outrun them but also to completely get away. Phew... That was close. I can't afford getting caught.

I manage to grab a taxi. "Taxi! The Sunday News, to the World Tower, please."

______

"Boss! I got something big on the Metropolitan Hospital!"

"I'm the one who will decide if what you write is important once your article is written, Way. You got two hours. That's your last chance, and if your article isn't good enough, you can start packing your stuff," Abernathy warns me. Lovely.

If I want to keep my job, I must pick a striking headline and write in such a way that the boss will like my article. I'd better preserve the truth in my story.

"Don't worry boss, you will love my prose."

I sit down behind my desk and start thinking. What shocked me the most was the way patients were treated, and my encounter with Emily.

I start typing on my typewriter.

"The tragic tale of a mad woman. The story of Emily Taylor."

Her story will captivate the readers, I'm sure of it. From their compassion, they will be more receptive to the rest of the article.

Two hours later, my article is written. Abernathy even compliments me on the chosen topic.

"You got the spirit, Gee. What matters as a journalist is not to report facts but to call out to the readers' emotions. Give that article so it can be edited. Tell him to put it on the first page!"

I put my hands together. "Thank you, Sir, thank you so much."

"If you can regularly offer me stories like that, then you definitely belong here, Gerard."

I am both glad and shaken from all this praising from the boss. I can't believe I managed to please him only with changes in my writing style. If I want to get occasions to be heard, I will have to make compromises.

Now all I can hope is for my article to be appreciated by the readers...

______