Wrath and Tears...

I did not like him, that old, wretched doctor sitting there with his smug face trying to tell me how grotesque my entire existence was, I just wanted to run away from that place. I wanted to run away from the hospital and from all these morons in their white coats. But for Dr. Mukherjee, I would have probably fled long back. But I knew that if I ran away not one of the morons would even be slightly bothered but old Dr. Mukherjee would probably not be able to take the shock. He liked me more than anyone else and genuinely believed that one day I will actually get better and walk out of here a sane man. So I stayed on and thus the unbearable torture of being forced to listen to the obnoxious rantings of the miserable fool in his white coat sitting across the table continued. "When will Dr. Mukherjee be coming?", I ask rather impatiently. The smugness on his freckled face deepens as he shakes his head to indicate his ignorance of his boss's schedule. I have been staying