El psiquiátrico Hoombler era reconocido mundialmente como uno de los mejores por los excelentes doctores que lo conformaban, al igual que su estructura antigua casi intacta. Para poder ser uno de los pacientes del lugar se debía pasar por una especie de preguntas y ser de la élite, no asistía gente común y corriente debido a lo costoso y privado que era. Se encontraba en medio de un bosque a las afueras de la ciudad, solo estaba rodeada por la vegetación, árboles de pino frondosos tan altos que sentarse debajo de ellos resultaba tranquilizador para algunos pacientes que tenían permitido salir en las tardes a dar un paseo alrededor de la gran institución mental.
Por los días se podía sentir el vaivén del viento y el hablar de la naturaleza, o así lo interpretaba Madelaine, una de las pacientes que más años tiene internada. Una actriz retirada de unos cuarenta años, por el tiempo que tanto habitó el lugar, lo conocía como la palma de su mano.
las noches las pasaba sentada hablando con José, un guardia de turno extranjero de mediana edad con el que se llevó de maravillas desde su llegada al sanatorio. Una de esa tantas noches de invierno ella se puso su abrigo encima de la pijama, el reloj de pared marcaba las nueve y cuarto de la noche. Debía esperar a que marcara las diez y así llegara el turno de su amigo, él unos días antes le había prestado uno de los tantos libros que leía y justo ese día iban a debatirlo. Se miró frente en el reflejo del televisor, no se veía con claridad pero sí lo necesario. No tenía bolsas bajo sus ojos y tampoco esa marca violácea que tenía en ellas anteriormente. Su semblante se veía recuperado un poco, el cabello castaño de ella estaba peinado en dos simples coletas que se hacía siempre antes de dormir. Eso la ayudaba a que el otro día tenga algunas ondas en sus finas hebras, la delicadeza de su piel era notoria al igual que la palidez que la representaba. Una hilera de pecas subían por sus brazos hasta su clavícula. Por su respingada nariz también había unas que estaban unidas a sus mejillas regordetas. Sus ojos eran de un azul tan profundo como cielo luego de una lluvia repentina en una tarde de verano. La ropa que usaba era simple, una pijama se seda blanca de mangas largas.
Se mantuvo parada frente al televisor apagado por varios minutos hasta que un sonido de dos toques en la puerta llamó su atención. Por la pequeña ventanilla de esta se refleja un viejo hombre con arrugas que reflejaban sus tantos años de horas sin dormir y de una piel mal cuidada, un parche tapaba su ojo izquierdo y se reflejaba una gran cicatriz que comenzaba desde su oreja derecha hasta el arco de cupido en sus labios que contenían algunas gotas de sangre.
—¡oh, llegaste José! ¡Dame un segundo!—exclamó emocionada y caminó rápidamente hasta la puerta que ya no tenía seguro, él lo había sacado.
Imagen de Gerd Altmann en Pixabay
English
The Hoombler psychiatric hospital was recognized worldwide as one of the best because of its excellent doctors, as well as its ancient structure almost intact. In order to be one of the patients of the place you had to go through a kind of questions and be of the elite, ordinary people did not attend due to how expensive and private it was. It was located in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of the city, it was only surrounded by vegetation, leafy pine trees so tall that sitting under them was soothing for some patients who were allowed to go out in the afternoons for a walk around the large mental institution.
During the days you could feel the swaying of the wind and the talk of nature, or so Madelaine, one of the longest-serving patients, interpreted it. A retired actress in her forties, she knew the place like the back of her hand.
She spent her evenings sitting and talking with José, a middle-aged foreign guard on duty with whom she got along wonderfully since her arrival at the sanatorium. One of those many winter nights she put her coat on over her pajamas, the wall clock read a quarter past nine at night. She had to wait for the clock to strike ten so that her friend's turn would arrive. A few days before, he had lent her one of the many books he read and that very day they were going to discuss it. He looked at his forehead in the reflection of the television, he could not see himself clearly but he had to. He had no bags under his eyes and neither that purplish mark he had in them before. Her countenance looked recovered a little, her brown hair was combed in two simple pigtails that she always did before going to sleep. That helped her to have some waves in her fine strands the other day, the delicacy of her skin was noticeable as well as the pallor that represented her. A row of freckles ran up her arms to her collarbone. Across her upturned nose there were also some that were attached to her plump cheeks. Her eyes were as deep blue as the sky after a sudden rain on a summer afternoon. The clothes she wore were simple, white silk pajamas with long sleeves.
She stood in front of the turned-off television for several minutes until the sound of two knocks on the door caught her attention. Through the small window an old man with wrinkles that reflected his many years of sleepless hours and poorly cared for skin, a patch covered his left eye and reflected a large scar that started from his right ear to the cupid's bow on his lips that contained a few drops of blood.
-She exclaimed excitedly and walked quickly to the door that no longer had a lock, he had taken it off.
Congratulations @sannyc! You have completed the following achievement on the Hive blockchain and have been rewarded with new badge(s):
Your next target is to reach 700 upvotes.
You can view your badges on your board and compare yourself to others in the Ranking
If you no longer want to receive notifications, reply to this comment with the word
STOPSupport the HiveBuzz project. Vote for our proposal!