My heart pounds against my chest and my lungs become fragile and fatigued. I feel the hair on my arms stand up and the adrenaline push through my veins as I feel its scorching breath on my neck. It’s right behind me, but I keep running. Faster! I tell myself. The narrow needles of the icy Blue Atlas cedar trees puncture my skin as I dash my way through the dark, arctic forest. Remaining puddles of freezing water splash up onto my limbs making me feel anesthetized. I try to uncover the path to escape the entity that lurks, but it’s no use; it stalks me everywhere I go.
The chilling rain fell from the dark clouds as I stepped into the confines of the Psychiatric Institute of Washington. The smell of hand sanitizer and blueberry muffins filled my nose as I made my way sluggishly down the dim, lengthy hall towards my chamber. The man that dragged me to this nuthouse followed close behind to make sure I wouldn’t take a stab at trying to escape again. Room 413: Victoria Marshall was posted in a bold, angry script.
The room was whitewashed with tile covering floor to ceiling. One window, accompanied by bars to ensure getaway was impossible, had its place in the far left corner, one metal desk with a stable chair that had been bolted to the floor sat directly under it, and one twin sized bed with a scrawny mattress and with one white pillow was isolated in the far right corner.
I made myself at home, although it felt like anything but. The guard that had followed me slammed the door shut and locked it. I heaved myself on the bed as my heavy, bloodshot eyes began to water. I lifted my bloodstained hands and observed them for a while. Tears began to flow and my chest felt tight, as if an elephant was stepping on it. My head was pounding like someone was smashing my head with a sledgehammer. My eyes began to shut, and my mind started to drift.
I wake with a jolt and in a dead sweat. The room is pin-dropping quiet, when I hear someone breathing. I shift my head to the right toward the entryway, when I see the dead-bolted door slowly open. I swing my legs off the bed, set my swollen feet on the tile floor, and use as much strength as I can to push myself up. Dizzy and paranoid, I walk over to the door and pull it open. The hallways of the asylum are silent and abandoned, with the exception of the dark creature that haunts me. I step out of my room and instantly feel a chilly breeze that makes my skin sting. I can feel it close to me as the hall’s temperature continues to drop. In the distance, I see a dark shadow dart across the hallway. My throat swells as I quickly try to turn to go back into my room, but my legs won’t budge. I am paralyzed with fear while this black figure approaches me.
The decreasing temperature has reached a point where I can see my breath. My skin is now colorless and I can feel my lips turning blue. My knees weaken and I drop to the floor. The entity approaches me and my chest starts to tighten again. I can hear it hissing my name in a cavernous, hoarse voice. The closer it gets, the more anxious I become. My heart begins thumping against my sternum, causing it to throb. Eye to eye and nose to nose, I now face the disturbing presence. I still cannot see its face, but I realize I don’t want to. I can feel its unblinking, piercing eyes looking through me as it begins to snicker.
“What are you laughing at?” I cry. It doesn’t respond. Its deep, malevolent laugh makes the hairs on my arm stand up and my blood boil. I finally let out a soul-ripping scream loud enough to break glass and begin flailing my arms. Minutes pass. It is still standing there, just cackling at me.
“Get out!” I shut my eyes and scream once more as I grasp the ends of my long, dark hair and pull it from my head. It’s menacing laugh fades back into the darkness of my intellect where it belongs.
The smell of warm bakery opens my eyes at the sight of two bloodstained hands. This is where I belong.