This dreary hallway with flickering lights seems to go on forever. The repugnant smell of mildew is almost unbearable as I make my way through
the bleak and dilapidated hospital. It was quite a shock to me when I woke up on in a dark room on a hospital bed with nothing but an old, musty hospital gown on. This place is so unforgivably hot
that my gown is sticking to my sweaty body like a second skin. My bare feet feel somewhat relieved against the cold, broken tile beneath them. The various noises of loud rumbling walls and creaking
doors make me conscious of my surroundings. The grimy hallway is littered with abandoned wheelchairs and broken gurneys that seem like they haven't been used in ages. I pass a desk with old
handwritten papers and clipboards with multiple coats of dust on them. The empty rooms are dark and unsettling as I walk by. I feel like a child that is scared that a monster is watching me,
wanting to devour me whole with it's razor sharp teeth. With a hitched breath, I manage to speak for the first time:
I notice my voice is scratchy and shaky. Seems appropriate, my nerves are rattled and my mind is foggy. The loud rumbling in the walls quiet, the buzz of the fluorescent lights seem to vanish. Everything is quiet. Everything is still. I close my eyes and take in a slow breath. I ask with more volume and confidence, “Am I alone?” The hairs on the back of my neck rise up and I can feel someone's breath on my sensitive skin.
“You're not.” The lights flash, and hands are pinning me down to the floor. I can make out two figures above me. Two filthy men, one older balding and one younger with greasy black hair, dressed as
orderlies struggle to keep me down.
“Let me go!” My screaming falls upon deaf ears. The black haired orderly's dull gray eyes pierces my own, his foul breath filled my nostrils. His weight crushing me.
“Another play toy....yes....yes,” He fumbles in his pocket for something as the other orderly prevents me from escaping. A see a flash of shiny metal in the younger man's hand. Panic sets in.
“I can't wait to slice into your skin...oooooohhhh,” In my panic, I kick with all of my might and the greasy haired orderly is bumped off of me. His head cracks against the tile and he is sprawled out across the floor. The adrenaline allows me to quickly find the balding orderly's hand in my mouth and I bite down. Hard. He rocks back and yelps as he grabs his wounded hand. My breath comes quickly and the tears in my eyes make my vision blurry. I spring up off of the floor, leap across the orderly with the bleeding hand and dash down the corridor. I can hear delirious laughter behind me and the thudding of loud footsteps chasing after my own dainty footsteps. I turn around the corner in no time, but the young orderly is slowly gaining, “She's a feisty one!”
The laughter becomes louder. I feel the blood coursing through my veins as I desperately search for a means of escape. I hesitate as I spot an exit sign at the other end of the hallway. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that the psychotic attacker is right behind me and I sprint toward the exit. As I pass an old wheelchair, I put my hand out and push it behind me. I hear the shout of the monster crashing over it, but I don't dare turn around to confirm it. I see the exit become closer and closer. I smile, I'm almost there. I'm almost free. I push the door open and feel a cooling breeze across my red face.
Then I'm falling back. My eyes squeeze shut as I am roughly slammed back into a wall, my head painfully making contact with it. My eyes fly
open when I feel a pair of hands attach themselves to my throat. A blonde man dressed as a doctor stands before me. He is unusually clean and kept compared to the dirty surroundings and filthy
psychiatric employees that I have encountered as of yet. I gasp for breath, but my lungs get no reward for their piteous attempt at capturing oxygen.
“You will not escape, Love,” his enchanting Australian voice echos. “You are my,” he caresses my cheek, “My masterpiece.” Behind him appears the black haired orderly, out of breath and grinning
madly. He with the shiny, metal object from before. A syringe. A very large syringe.
“This will only hurt a lot,” the young orderly whispers with rancid breath hitting my face.
My gargled cry is cut off when I see the orderly lunge at me, and I feel a painful stab in my chest, right where my heart is. The doctor releases me, and I crumble to the floor, desperately trying to refill my lungs with air. I try to crawl away, toward the exit door. Their mocking laughter is becoming hazy, and my vision is blurring. I can feel my heart beating slower. With the last of my strength, I reach for the door. But all I see is blackness.
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