He sifted through the night air, hood covering his head, his face hidden from view. One hand hanging loosely at his side, the other holding a long wooden stick with a metal end; he looked about the woods. He sniffed the air and started walking toward the north, as if he was searching for something. He saw a silhouette in the distance, slumped against a tree. A grin came across the only visible part of his face; nothing seen but rotten teeth. Hovering over the silhouette, he raised his stick and swiped it down on the poor being below him. A scream echoed through the black sky and then silence. Snickering, Grim walked away, the lost soul of the helpless being following behind him.
Returning to the dungeons, he set his scythe on the rack and lowered his hood, revealing the skeletal figure of his head and hands. Grim glided to a wall and waved his hand in a circular motion. The wall parted to reveal a room with a mirror. This was no ordinary mirror. As he floated in, the wayward soul close entail, the mirror stared showing obscured, ghostly faces and screams were heard. Grim then turned to the soul, another evil snicker on his face. He grabbed the spirit by the throat and thrust it into the mirror. Instead of going in the mirror and coming out the other end, the soul got sucked in, joining the countless held in there before him.

Grim looked up and spots where his eyes would be glowed a sanguine red, growing with power. He gripped the edge of the mirror, feeling the energy flow inside him from this new soul. "Don't worry my sweet," he muttered under his breath. "I will make a new life for you yet." He looked up suddenly, sniffing the air once again. A wicked sneer came across his bony face and he pulled up the hood of his cloak. He waved his hand and the wall closed, drowning out the screams in an instant. He grabbed his scythe and glided up the steps, going through the portal to the human world, ready to take another decaying being's life.

************

Damien Wells grew up in the slums of New York. He had an interesting past, filled with small robberies like stealing a piece of candy from the store or vandalizing a wall with graffiti. But in time those crimes grew. By the age of 25 he was part of the Mafia. He started doing bank heists and drug deals. Many of those resulted in murders as well. He was at the top of his game; holding a position within the Mafia right under the Godfather, along with his girlfriend, Becky. But that didn't last long. They were set out to do another bank heist. Unfortunately the cops were prepared for the heist. As they entered the building with shotguns they saw police scattered throughout the bank. The police enclosed on the two and told them to drop their weapons. Never back down Damien thought. He looked over to Becky. "Fuck it." He muttered and raised his shotgun. Before he could get his shot off a cop fired his pistol, nailing Damien in the head and Becky in the chest.

Damien awoke a few minutes later in a white field with a huge golden gate. Where am I? What happened? He kept thinking. He walked up to the gate and saw a being with wings and a golden halo above its head. "State your name," the being demanded. "D-Damien Wells." He muttered, wide-eyed at seeing the weird creature. "Through the gate." The being stated as the gates opened up. Damien walked through into another field with a road that led to a set of stairs. He followed the road and walked up the steps.

"Halt!" A loud voiced bellowed. Damien stopped dead in his tracks and looked around, unsure of where the voice was coming from. "W-what?" He stuttered, looking around still. The voice echoed through the field. "I know who you are and what you have done. I don't like it one bit. Big bad Mafia man, you are nothing now. I am the all powerful. I am the mighty one here. You deserve no right to walk through these gates into the heavens above. But, I could use you. You are so great at killing, time to put that to actual use. I won't condemn you to suffer in Hell, but you must work to stay out of Hell. Hell is becoming overburdened. We need a new place to put all of these evil souls of the world. This is where you come in. You will have the role of capturing these souls and putting them into a mirror."

Damien shook his head. "Why should I do this for you? What have you done for me?" A crystal ball appeared in front of Damien. Within it was Becky, shackled and chained up, demons dancing all around her. "Becky!" Damien yelled. The voice spoke again. "You want her to have a second chance? You want her to be free of this suffering? Then you will do this. If not, well, I am sure Hell's demons will have some fun." The ball disappeared and the voice waited for Damien's response.

"Alright," he sighed, "I'll do it." Damien felt something grab him and pull him downward. He appeared in a room of stone with a desk and a bed. Lying on the bed was a cloak and a scythe. He grabbed the cloak and noticed a difference in his body. He no longer had is thick hands. They were nothing but bone. He felt his face. All bone. He put on the cloak and put the hood over his head. Slowly he rose a bit off the ground. He grabbed the scythe and went to glide out the door, a grim feel to the air around him. Noticing a note on the door, he stopped and read it.


You are now ready to start your tasks.
You are to go around this earth and search for the souls damned to Hell.
If you are able to complete these tasks, and I feel the time is right, your girl's life will be spared.
You are no longer Damien Wells. You will go by the name Grim, just as the air that surrounds you; the Grim Reaper. Welcome to your new life.


He ripped the note off the door and scowled, resting his scythe on his shoulder. He glided up the stone steps and exited a grave tomb into the night air. He sniffed the air. He was able to smell the souls; the evil ones had a nasty scent. Grim drifted off into the night, his cloak fluttering in the wind.

He gripped the sides of the sink, with enough force that his knuckles turned as while as the bone. He stared at himself through the mirror, fighting to hold back as a tear trickled down his face, getting caught up in the truffles of his beard. I must stay strong. He thought. I must fight back with all I can. Another tear slid down his cheek. His eyes started to water up as he continued trying to hold back what almost seemed inevitable to come. Torn between sadness, fear, and anger, he shook his head, hoping to shake all those emotions away. Saddened at what happened, scared of what will happened next, angry that he had the misfortune of being in this position.
He stood straight, staring at the mirror one last time, at the man staring back. He didn't feel like himself at all. He turned away, disgusted at what was looking back at him. He walked out of the bathroom, passing by all the pictures that scattered the walls. Pictures he dared not look at, until he came to one at the end of the hall. He tried to avoid letting his gaze fall upon it, but he couldn't stop it. Immediately he dropped to his knees, not being able to hold back all he was able to hold before. Tears fell from his eye sockets, splashing into glistening little sprinkles as they reached the floor.

He shook, barely able to keep himself from sprawling across the floor. He tried to bring himself together, and managed to stand up and continue on to the living room, sitting in a chair while a fire crackled, giving his gloomy face a soft orange-red glow. He wiped away the tears that were still left on his face. He looked to the end table and saw a paper, a paper that he has had since he was a child, a paper with two sentences on it.

He looked at the words and read them softly. ”Be strong and everything will fall together. Allow yourself to falter, and everything will fall apart.”

His dark expression slowly turned to that of courage, and a lost strength started to build within. He smiled and stuck the paper in his pocket. He picked up the phone and dialed a number that he knew very well, but hadn't dialed in quite a few days.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “You still want to see a movie? Alright, I will pick you up at seven?”


He hung up the phone and returned to the bathroom, looking to the mirror. But instead of seeing the grim, dark, broken man he saw before, he saw a smiling, strong man, looking as if he could take on the world. He tidied himself up and grabbed his jacket and keys, walking through the hall, looking at each picture he passed, the same pictures he avoided before. He grinned and walked out the door, ready for his life to start again.

I hastily wake by something I can't quite make out. Was it a sound? Was it a flash? Was something brushing against me? I don't know. Hell, I don't even remember my name, where I am, what I look like. I can't remember a thing from my past. All I know is I'm in this strange room. It looks to be a hospital, but there are no machines, anywhere. Where am I? These walls aren't like from any hospital I've ever seen. They are corroded; decaying away as if the building has been here for hundreds of years. If I am in a hospital, why does it look like this?

I stumble out of the hard bed and struggle to stand up, my legs feeling weak. How long have I been asleep? I still look to be in street clothes. Where is the gown so many hospitals are accustomed to having their patients wear? Why am I even here? So many thoughts and questions running through my mind, but there seem to be no answers to be found. This building seems awfully quiet. There isn't that normal buzz that you hear throughout a busy hospital building. Just silence. But yet, it sounded as if something was here. As if something was, well, watching me.

Slowly I make my way to the bathroom, hoping to find a mirror to see more about myself. Maybe I can get some idea of who I am, who I used to be. It's so dark in here. The only light I have is the faint glow of the moonlight, glistening through the raindrops pouring down outside. How many floors are there? Looking out the window as I pass it, I notice that I seem to be on the 5th or 6th floor. The grass looks just as decayed as the walls, lightly brown in color, a few patches slightly darker than the rest. The trees are barren. Void of any leaves whatsoever. Even the bark was beginning to peel away, falling off the trunks as I look at them.

I continue forward, stepping slowly, still a bit groggy from being abruptly awoken. I reach the doorway to the bathroom and wrap my hands around the edges of the sink, using the strong ceramic to support my weak, teetering body. I look to the mirror but see nothing due to the darkness. I feel around the wall, my rough, dry fingers brushing against the flaking plaster, chipping a few pieces away as my hand crosses them. After a few seconds of feeling around I finally find the light switch and flip it on. I jump back at the sight before me and the mirror shatters, sending little shards flying everywhere, forcing me to put my arms up in a defensive position to prevent any of the fragments from reaching my face.

What was that thing? That couldn't have been me. It was so, so dark. It almost looked as though it was just a skeleton, but it still seemed to have rotten flesh covering its bones. It had very thin strands of hair coming off its head, silver in color. The eyes, the red eyes were so distant. Yet it seemed that it stared right into me, causing my heart to sink to my stomach. Gulping, I fumble about the room, trying to reach the doorway to walk back out, shaking from what I just experienced. What am I doing here?

I nervously make my way to the door leading out into the hallway, or what was left of it anyway. The metal is so rusted that I can see holes the size of basketballs littering the door, allowing me to see out into the hallway, the walls of the hall matching the decaying look of the walls in the room. I grasp the cold metal doorknob and turn it. The door opens with a creaking sound, only adding more eeriness to the already grim and gloomy atmosphere. Looking out into the hall I see it is desolate. Not a single hint of life or anything that could show the existence of life is found. Rusted gurneys are flipped sideways, chairs are broken and lying about the floor, broken glass and ceiling tiles also scatter the floor. There are even mattresses lying around.

I carefully step out, unsure of if it’s the right choice to do. I can’t just stay in this room. I have to find out why I’m here. Or at least find out if there’s a way out of this run-down shithole. As I step through the doorway a shiver shoots down my spine and I stop dead in my tracks, hearing a voice, almost like a little child, mumbling something.

“You will never be forgiven.” The child mumbles.

I stand there, looking around for where the voice is coming from, but see nothing. The hallways are empty minus the few objects lying about the hall. Sweat starts to slowly drip down my face as my head movements quicken.

“Wh-Who’s there?” I speak loudly, hoping that someone makes their presence known in some other form than a voice.

I start to sweat more as the voice speaks the same words again, a bit louder this time. I start frantically looking back and forth, searching for the source of the voice, only to find nothing. I take a step to my left to walk down the hall and the voice screams the same words at me before there is a big whoosh and all the objects lying about the hallway fly at me. I about-face and start sprinting down the hall. I look behind me and see all the objects gone, leaving the hallway completely empty. Panting, I slow my pace and eventually stop at what appears to be a reception desk.

I place my hand upon the rotten wood for support and take deep breaths. What the hell was that? What did I do that I won’t be forgiven for? I look about the desk and notice a piece of paper with a name on it, but it is too scratched and faded to make out. Reading down I see bits and parts of the document. The only words visible are blood, mental, and dangerous. I look at the top of the document and finally find my first clue as to what is going on. In big bold letters, Kromstein Mental Institution can be seen.

A mental institution? Have I been committed? There are no doctors around, or nurses. I can’t even hear any other patients. I search around the desk, hoping to see more files that might lead to why I’m here. I see a hastily drawn note sitting atop one of the counters.

The experiment was a success. Patient 15-795 has been sent to the medical wing for further check-ups. If all goes according to plan, the patient will never know of what happened. Call Dr. Kromstein immediately and give him the patient’s medical info for confirmation.

Experiment? What type of operations were they running, and on who? Am I patient 15-795? I can’t be. I don’t remember anything, and this building is way too old for me to have been a patient. I step back from the reception desk and look down both ends of the hallway, unsure of which way to go. Remembering what happened when I walked to the left, I turn to my right and start slowly walking down the hallway. As I walk, I can hear mumbling again. But not like that child voice I heard before. This voice is just mumbling nonsense. Hard to make out just what is being said.

As I get closer to the source of the mumbling, I see a door with a panel on it. The panel is marked 15-794. I look through the bars of the door and see a man sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth. He has no clothes, and his body seems to be covered in cuts and bruises, as if he was whipped. His mumbling grows louder and louder, and I am finally able to make out what he is saying.

“3 dead. One shot to the skull and 3 to the chest. 3 dead. One shot to the skull and 3 to the chest.” The man mumbles, over and over.

I continue looking at the man, curious as to what he is speaking of. Suddenly he stops mumbling and rocking, as if he heard something. Was it me? My heavy breathing could be the cause. The man slowly turns his head to look at me. I start to sweat again, feeling my hairs stand on end, goosebumps covering my body. The man turns his head a full 180 degrees without moving the rest of his body. His eyes are gone. Nothing but empty sockets. There are holes on his lips, signs that his mouth was sewn shut.

“You will never be forgiven!” He yells, and another whoosh is heard as the door flies off the hinges, pushing me into the wall.

I get up and run down the hall, not so much as looking back, until I come to a set of double doors. I bust through them and enter into what appears to be a cafeteria. I stop dead, horrified at what I see before me.

Bodies are everywhere. Men, women, even children are scattered across tables, benches, and the floor. Blood is spread across everything, a lot of it. The stench is rancid. A mixture of burning flesh, rotten corpses, and feces make its way through my nostrils. It’s so putrid that I just want to vomit everywhere. I find the nearest garbage can and run over, ready to spew my guts everywhere. Inside I see a head of a woman; eyes ripped out and mouth sewn shut, flies flying around it as the blonde hair rests atop the pile of garbage. I lose it and vomit into the can.

After wiping my mouth off, I look again to the cafeteria. There are so many bodies. In one corner of the room the bodies even pile atop each other. I move closer to the tables. Limbs lie about, cleanly cut from the rest of the body. A few even have their intestines hanging out and drooping off the side of the table. Who would do such a thing? I look up from the tables and notice movement near what appears to be the kitchen. I slowly make my way over and see a heavyset man with a hatchet. His apron is covered with blood and dirt. Spots where he wiped his hands off could be seen about the apron. He appears to be butchering a body. I want to scream but catch myself before I make a sound. Or at least I think I did.

The man suddenly pauses after raising the hatchet for another cut and turns to look at me. Half of his face is burned. The left side of his mouth is non-existent, rotten yellow teeth able to be seen. I want to run, but something is stopping me from moving. Whether it is fear or some external force, I am stuck here. Sweat starts to drop from my body and goosebumps develop. I start shaking and a slight gasp escapes from my throat.

After looking me over for a second the butcher walks toward me. No matter how much I want to, I just can’t seem to run. He brings his face close to me so that it is only a mere 3 inches away from mine. His eyes are bloodshot and his nose missing its skin on the right side. How this man is even alive is nothing short of a miracle. He snarls while he looks me over, as if he is reading me or something. I keep trying and trying to move my legs, but I can’t. It’s as though I’m supposed to be kept here for a reason, whatever that reason may be.

After a few seconds the man whispers in a deep, raspy voice. “You will never be forgiven.”

Before I can ask for what everything goes white. When everything comes back into view, I am outside of the institution, but I still can’t move. The neighborhood looks oddly familiar. Kids running the streets, green grass and nice 2 story houses. One kid stops in front of me, but doesn’t seem to notice I am there. The kid is laughing and stomping on ants and crickets. The screech of tires is heard and then there is a thump. I look to my left and see a dog lying on the asphalt, one of its legs ripped off from the rest of its body. Tire marks can be seen on the hair. I see the kid standing next to it with a stick, poking at it and laughing.

Everything goes white again. I wake up in the institution, a different room than before. I get up and look around, seeing a bunch of objects lying about. They appear to be mementos. The room looks like a storage room, full of many objects much like the ones in front of me. They all appear to have different labels on them. They must have been the patients’ items taken upon being committed. I notice one box that has the label Patient 15-795. I open it up and drop it immediately once I see what is inside.

As the box falls the dog leg bounces across the floor. I pick the box up again, a bit shaken, and look at the various knives, daggers, and saws littering the box. Rust and dried up blood spot the utensils, and many are chipped from constant use. Just who was patient 15-795? I shudder and put the box back on the shelf, kicking the dog leg under the shelf in disgust. Looking around, I find the door leading into the hallway. I look to my left and see another reception desk. I walk over to it and find another document. I grab it and start reading.

Patient 15-795 has been exhibiting some peculiar behavior. Doesn't hold any remorse, despite being told of how what was being done is wrong. Patient 15-795 just shrugs and changes the subject, to anything, weather, video games, movies; acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was done. I will continue to study Patient 15-795’s progress to see what more I can find. I see no reason for alarm yet, but I will keep a close eye.

-Kromstein

What did patient 15-795 do? It must not have been too bad seeing as the doctor, whom I now assume was a psychiatrist, didn’t raise any alarm or questions yet. I stash the note and continue walking down the hall. I look about the other rooms and see them all empty. I look down the hall and see faint movement. Is there someone else here? I start walking toward where I saw the movement.

Before I can get much further, everything goes white again. Once the white fades I am standing in a dining room. A family is sitting at the table preparing things for dinner. All the seats are filled except one. The oldest female walks to a window and yells outside.

“Come inside honey, it’s time for dinner!” She says before shutting the window and walking back to the table.

A child enters the dining room, smiling wide and holding something. I can’t quite make out what it is, but it’s the same child as before. The child walks up to the mother and speaks, holding out the object.

“Mommy, look what I brought for you!” The child exclaims, holding the object higher.

The mother looks at the object and shrieks, dropping the knife and fork she was using to cut up the chicken. She shuffles the child out of the dining room while the others just stare, open-mouthed, at the squirrel lying on the table. Its guts were pulled out and twisted, as if being played with. The skull was crushed in, making the muzzle unrecognizable. A leg twitches, showing there is still a little sign of life in the critter. One of the other children runs out of the hall, vomiting.

Everything goes white again and I hear a voice muttering the same words, telling me I will never be forgiven. I scream out asking what I did, but get no response. I wake in another room. Looking about the room, my eyes grow wider and the all too familiar goosebumps return, despite getting used to seeing things like this. What kind of place can even produce things like this? Where in the bloody hell am I?

A dining room table is in the middle of the room. There is a red cloth drooped over it with lacing on the ends. There are two candlesticks spread evenly on the table. A chandelier is hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly. The sight would be truly beautiful if it wasn’t for the dead, rotten animals littering the table and plates. And to make matters worse, in each seat there are decayed corpses, 5 to be exact. Three look to be female, one male, and the last one is so rotten and decayed it’s impossible to tell if it’s male or female.
I slowly walk around the table, examining everything on it, looking for any clues as to what this might be. It looks a lot like the flashback of that dinner scene, or was it a vision? I lean closer to examine one of the bodies. I inch my head closer only to jump back. All the heads move. Not in just any direction, they all move to look at me. Despite having no eyes I can feel them staring into me. I can feel anger within their stares, piercing into me. What did I do? Why are they so angry?

I look between the 5 corpses. Out of curiosity, I move a bit to my left, and the corpses’ heads follow me. I move to my right and they follow me again. They just keep following me, no matter what way I move. They keep quiet, not so much a murmur coming from them. It is silly of me to think they could actually speak, seeing as they lack the lips to form proper words, but it looks like they want to. I stand there a few seconds longer, in silence, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does.

Impatient, I come to the conclusion that there is nothing of interest in this room and go to leave. As soon as I go to turn toward the door, some invisible force grabs hold of me, anchoring me down, preventing all movement. My head is forcefully turned back toward the corpses. I start to sweat, fearful of what is going to happen. Is this where I die?

The corpses get up in unison and walk toward me, slowly. I fidget, trying to move, but fail at moving so much as a few inches. I stare at the corpses as they continue walking toward me, until they are all lined up side by side, looking at me. Even though they are basically nothing but bone, I feel as if I know them from somewhere. I study them as they stand there, still looking at me.

I open my lips to speak, but before I can say a word I hear murmurs. Slowly their voices rise in volume, and eventually I can hear the words that have become all too familiar.

“You will never be forgiven.” They chant together.

“FOR WHAT?!?!” I yell loudly, thinking they can speak and converse with me.

They don’t respond to me at all. They just continue to chant, the voices growing louder and louder until it is a soft yell. They then stop and stare again, as if waiting for me to make a move. As soon as I go to take a step, they immediately scream the words at the top of their lungs, causing the entire room to shake violently, pieces of the ceiling and walls crumbling to the floor. I feel the force holding me release and I jolt for the door, not looking back. I run down the hall searching for a door I can go through but they are all locked. I’d bust through them but they are steel and would yield no effect. I keep running and see my only escape.

I dash for the window and crash through it, thinking I was only a few stories up. To my horror I am higher than I thought. I quickly glance to the side and see I am at least 20 stories high. I spin uncontrollably through the air, slowly gaining speed as I rush to the pavement below. My heart races as I watch the concrete come closer, anticipating my impending death.

I tumble as the pavement draws closer to me. I hit the ground feet first. Pain shoots through my body and I hear the sickening crunch and snap of bones. I look down and see my thigh bones sticking out of my legs, the jagged edges covered in blood and pieces of muscle and skin. My feet are twisted backwards and I can’t move my arms. I realize I am paralyzed and lay there, slowly fading out of consciousness.

My final thoughts are pretty much non-existent, seeing as I don’t remember my past. Before everything fades to black I catch a glimpse of figures standing over me. They are muttering those familiar words, telling me I will never be forgiven. I mumble asking for what and lose consciousness as things go white.

I wake up in the same house as before, seeing the same female walking about, an angered look on her face.

“Get your ass down here right now and I mean it. You’re worthless. You never listen to what I say and live in your own little world. You need to get your act together right now.” She yells at the top of her lungs while the two children and the father sit there, purposely oblivious to her screaming.

The oldest child, no more than 14, walks down the steps with a disgusted look. The child walks out to the backyard, littered with various toys, and starts picking up the mess while the mother continues to scream obscenities. I hear the child muttering things about ruing the day and her day will come. After the mess is cleaned the child walks back into the house, not realizing a few toys were still left outside.

The mother notices and slaps the child multiple times, saying words between each slap. “I. Told. You. To. Take. Care. Of. All. Of. Them.”

The other children and father still sit, oblivious, and watch the television. Suddenly a very high pitched scream is heard and the father and children go running into the kitchen. Their mouths drop in horror as they see the bloody body of the mother lying in the middle of the floor, hand slightly twitching and reaching for something, anything, to grab. The child stands above the mother with a bloody butcher knife and looks at the mother.

A scream is heard from the children and the oldest child looks up toward them. After staring for a few seconds the child screams and runs toward the rest of his family, butcher knife raised. Everything goes white again and I wake in a gurney. I look around and see I am once again back in the institution. I look to my legs and see no wounds. It’s as if I never feel from a 20 story window. I look about the room and realize it is the exact same room as when I first woke in the building. I get up and test my legs. Able to walk with ease, I walk out of the room. Oddly enough, the hallways are different from before. I walk to a nearby reception desk and see another document laying there.

Patient 15-975 has been accepted for treatment. The government has given the go ahead to test the procedure. I wish we would have caught him sooner. So many lives could have been saved. If this works it will create a whole new revolution of medical treatment for psychotic patients. Seeing as Patient 15-975 has no parents or siblings, I will be signing the document for the okay to continue.

I, Michael James Kromstein, hereby acknowledge Patient 15-975 is in need of medical treatment, and give the okay for the procedure to be carried out as planned.

So Patient 15-975 was a murderer? According to this document, it seems that child I was seeing in my visions may be Patient 15-975. I stash the note and walk down the hallway. I come to a door that says Patient 15-973 and open it. Inside I find something that makes a bit of sense, but nonetheless leaves fear in my mind and goosebumps on my skin. Yet another horrifying sight that only adds to the insanity I’m experiencing here at Kromstein Mental Institution.

An operating chair sits in the middle of the room. It is all rusted and grungy, obviously have been sitting there for years. The odd thing is all light is void of the room except for a single lamp shining down on the chair. I move closer to the chair out of curiosity. I feel a sharp stab in my neck, as if being stung, and a fade out of consciousness.

I wake up in a square room with a single table, one chair on each side. Two people walk into the room. One of them I recognize as the child from before, but much older, wearing an orange jumpsuit with shackles on the wrists and ankles. On the jumpsuit, Patient 15-975 can be seen.

The other person, a male, around the age of 40, motions for the patient to sit down. The patient does so and avoids the gaze of the male, playing with the shackles. The male sits down in the open chair and looks at the patient a bit before speaking.

“Due to confidentiality requested by the government, I must always refer to you as Patient 15-975. Do you know why you are here?” The male asks, studying the patient.

The patient doesn’t move or say anything. The male then speaks again, a little bit calmer than before.

“You are here because as of now we have discovered 13 bodies out of the 25 missing, all of them having your DNA on them, cut up and stored in barrels in an abandoned warehouse. Are you aware of the fact that we have evidence that it was you who killed them?” The male asks, opening up a folder and showing pictures of multiple mangled bodies, cut up into pieces.

The patient again stays silent, looking at the ground and still playing with the shackles. The male sighs and gets up. He walks to the door and knocks. A guard opens the door and looks curiously at the male.

“Tell Miss Janez that the patient is not yet ready to speak. More time will be needed if we wish to test the procedure. Tell her Mr. Kromstein sent you.” He says to the guard.

Everything goes white again, but not before I hear a voice laugh and say “You will never find the others.”

I awake and look around. I can’t move my arms and legs. I look down and realize I am strapped to the chair that I was looking at earlier. I shake my arms and legs trying to break free, but the metal locks have a tight grip, even though they are old and rusted. I keep shaking back and forth, desperately trying to break free, but it does no good.

Suddenly the door opens and a figure walks in. It is a male wearing a surgeon mask and dirty, bloody, scratched up scrubs. His skin is very pale and peeling off his face and arms. He has a big metal circle, a reflector, on his head. Wrapped around his neck is a stethoscope that looks just as rusted as the rest of his outfit. The name Kromstein can be seen etched across the top left of the shirt. He walks up to me, looking me in the eyes. The light from the reflector is shining into my pupils, causing me to squint.

I shake again trying to get free and he just laughs. I look up to him and stare back angrily, and demand to be let go. He just shakes his finger and walks around the chair, studying me. He then walks over to a table with different surgery tools and organizes them before speaking in a raspy voice, very familiar to the voice in the vision.

“It’s a miracle the procedure worked. We have never thought such a thing possible, but we have done it. It seems Patient 15-975 has been removed of all memory of what has been done. What do you think? Quite a medical advancement, no? But now that I think about it, I don’t think Patient 15-975 deserves to forget of everything done. The memory must live on, for sake of those killed.” He says, grabbing a tool that looks like a hand drill and walks over to me.

I try to shake free again but it doesn’t help. He looks me over again and turns on the drill. He laughs and speaks once more.

“Those killed shall be avenged. The mentally ill deserve to die, in order to save those who still hold their sanity. You will never be forgiven!” He yells as he quickly brings the drill toward my head, laughing menacingly.

I watch as the tip of the drill moves toward my forehead. I scream in pain as I feel the drill bit make contact and tear away my flesh before hitting my skull. A loud grinding is heard as the drill rips through my skull, blood splattering on Kromstein and my face, dirtying the drill bit.


I scream in horror as the drill breaks through my skull. Kromstein goes over to the table and grabs a long, needle like tool. I sit there and shake trying desperately to break free, blood dripping down my face. I look at my lap and see pieces of flesh. Kromstein comes back and pushes my head back as I still shake trying to get free.

He takes the needle like object and prods it into the open wound in my skull. I instantly freeze as it makes contact with my brain. I try to move by I am void of any possible motion. Paralyzed, I stare at the open doorway as I feel him cut away at my head with a scalpel. He throws the skin from the top of my head onto my lap. I can see it as it passes. I want so desperately to get free, but I can’t move.

I hear a loud buzz, and then heavy grinding as a saw cuts into my skull. Upon removing the top of my skull, he sticks an IV in my arm, but the blood doesn’t flow to a bag, instead the tube leads to my skull, which is now flipped over like a bowl. Blood flows into the bowl, and then after it is full he rips the IV out of my arm and laughs.

He walks in front of me with the bowl, forcing it to my mouth and causing me to drink a bit of it. I can taste the iron as the blood flows into my mouth. It dribbles out the corners and he forces my head back a bit, allowing the metallic liquid to slide down my throat.

After about half the 'bowl' is gone, He lowers his mask to reveal a rotten and decaying mouth. Black spots litter his teeth, which are as yellow as a dandelion. He drinks a bit from my skull and speaks.

“Terrifying isn’t it? To be on the receiving end of all the pain and torture you caused?” He smiles as my eyes grow a distant look.

I am Patient 15-975. I don’t understand how this could be possible. This building looks like it has been abandoned for at least 100 years. I try to speak but can’t seeing as the needle is still stuck in my brain, immobilizing me. He drinks a bit more from my skull and talks again.

“25 people. 25 innocent lives lost at the hands of you. 25 families broken all because you needed to fulfill your desires. You needed to feel that excitement. That adrenaline. You needed to keep reminding yourself you were alive, by taking the lives of others. Well now you will know their pain. You will feel their sorrow, their anger, their rage. You will feel what it’s like to die.” He downs the last of my blood and grabs the scalpel, walking toward me.

I can feel him pick away at pieces of my brain, mumbling and humming, throwing my brain matter on the floor in front of me to where I can see every piece he tears away. Eventually I fade out of consciousness, everything going white. I awake in an alleyway. I look around and see a person walking. The gender is hard to tell in the darkness of the alley.

In the light I can see the person has a female with them. I think maybe they are friends walking home. Before I can find out what they are doing, the unidentified person grasps the female by the throat and jabs a sharp object into it, leaving her to bleed out on the floor. What I see next causes my throat to tighten and grow very cold.

While the girl is bleeding on the floor, the figure takes out a saw from a bag. Realizing I am I able to move, I rush at the figure, diving to tackle the person. To my amazement, I pass right through the figure and land on the floor. I turn around and watch as the saw scrapes against the girls flesh. She opens her mouth to scream but nothing comes out. The figure continues to saw at the woman’s leg, reaching the bone. The figure, whom I can’t see thanks to a hood over the head, takes out a gas powered buzz saw and starts it up, grinding against the bone, giving a clean cut.

The figure takes the dismembered leg and throws it in a bag, then turns back and continues to repeat the process with each limb. Before I know it, all that’s left is a torso; no head, legs, or arms. The figure takes the torso and puts it in the bag before gathering the tools and walking off. Everything starts to fade to white again, but at the last second I notice the bloody handsaw was left in the pool of blood. Was it on purpose? Or did the figure just accidentally forget to grab it?

I wake in the same hospital room as before, remembering the drill I had pressed to my skull. I feel my head, but there are no bandages. My skull is completely intact, no wounds, scars, or stitches, as if the “operation” never happened. I walk out into the hall and it is again, different than before. Walking to a desk I see another document, and read it.

I can’t believe I was wrong. I was so sure that Patient 15-975 wouldn’t turn out this way. We will have to attempt the procedure. Patient 15-975 is to be kept in the institution at all costs. I will speak to the governor about setting Project Nexus in motion immediately. DO NOT LET THEM TAKE PATIENT 15-975!

-Kromstein

Project Nexus? Is that the procedure they did on me? What does Project Nexus do? The more clues I find the more questions I have. I stash the note and walk down the hall, looking at all the doors with different patient numbers on them. Inside are bloody bodies, just lying on the floor; some with missing limbs, some with missing heads, and some with no limbs at all.

Every room it seems has a body in it. Are these all the patients that were in the institution? What happened to cause the institution to turn out this way, and why am I still alive, if this institution is so many years desolate? None of this makes sense, but it is rather horrifying. I can’t even fathom what lies in store for me as I continue to walk through the institution, looking at all the decaying, bloody bodies on the floor of the rooms.

At the end of the hall there is what looks to be a lobby. Good! This may lead to the exit and I can finally get out of this hellhole. I walk in and my eyes grow wide in excitement upon seeing the exit. I rush toward it but am hit in the back of the head by something. It wasn’t hard enough to knock me out, but it definitely hurt. I turn around and see something that brings both a tear to my eye as well as cause me to want to vomit immensely.

So many heads. Five to be exact. All stitched to one body. The body has stitches all over it, one of the arms are even of different length. It’s as if five bodies were stitched together. What’s worse is the heads are those of the family I’ve seen in my visions. The voices all speak at once, muttering those words. Telling me I will never gain the forgiveness that I don’t even know I’m seeking.

I want to look away, but the fact that it is my family that stands before me keeps me in a trance, looking at them. Their faces are filled with sorrow. I slowly stand and continue staring at the creature, what was once my family. The thoughts of me murdering them with that butcher knife continuously play through my mind.

I finally come to and realize my family isn’t themselves anymore, and I break for the exit door. I bust through them, expecting to appear outside. I smile, filled with happiness of finally being free, but that happiness quickly fades to horror as I see that I’m not outside, but in the same cafeteria I was before. The bodies are still there; dismembered, bloody, decaying, and disfigured. Every single body that was murdered. That I murdered. Sitting there decaying away. I walk forward and notice Dr. Kromstein standing amongst the bodies, looking over them. He raises his head as I come up and speaks.

“Saddening isn’t it? So many lives lost. So many families ruined because of what you did. And yet you felt no remorse for it. You shrugged it off like it was some game to you, while families mourned over the deaths of their loved ones. You just kept on killing and smiling, while they just kept on dying and crying.” He shakes his head and looks back at the bodies.

“That was me before. Not now. You even said yourself that the procedure was a success, and that I don’t remember anything. So what is there to worry about?” I respond, trying to remain calm, despite wanting to tear his head off. I still have more info I needed to gather.

“Tsk tsk. You only think you’re cured. You only think all of it is gone now. If you only knew. It’s all in your head. You still are, and forever will be Patient 15-975.” He says.

And with that, he turns and walks off, fading from room, leaving me surrounded by the bodies of those I have killed. I look at them for a moment and shake the thoughts away. I have to get out of here. I run out of the cafeteria and toward the exit again. I reach the lobby again and see that creature, my family, standing in front of where the exit door used to be.

Why is the door no longer there? What do I do? Do I fight it? For some reason I can’t bring myself to do it. This used to be my family. I can’t attack them again like I did before. There is one option left to try. I walk up to the creature and look at it, doing my best to not show any fear.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry. I understand your hatred for me. I hate myself for what I did. But I’m not that way anymore. You have to believe me. You have to help me get out of here.” I say, hoping that maybe they will see the remorse I feel.

All the mouths open in unison and scream loudly, breaking all forms of left over glass in the room and sending me flying backward while covering my ears. I land against a wall hard, causing the plaster to crack some. Before I can get back up I’m hit by a piece of flying debris and lose consciousness.

The same mother and father from my previous visions stand in a kitchen, arguing back and forth. The mother, my mother, has a rotund belly, clear signs of pregnancy. They are having quite a heated debate, in which both sides are furious.

“We are not keeping the child!” My mother exclaims, slamming a towel down onto a nearby table. “We just can’t afford to support one right now!”

“We will make things work, Shelly, I promise. I knew what I was going into when asking you to be Mrs. Shelly Jones.” My father tries to calmly state, but the anger can still be heard in his voice.

“No David. I’m not going to do this. I’m ending this right now!” My mother yells. With that she storms out of the kitchen and without hesitation thrusts herself down the stairs.

I run forward to ask her if she’s okay, temporarily forgetting this is just a vision. As my mother passes out from the fall, everything goes white again. I expect to be woken back up in the same hospital bed, but instead I appear in another hospital with my mother and father. A doctor is with them holding a clipboard.

“It was quite a fall Mrs. Jones. The baby is fine. Unfortunately there appears to be slight trauma to the head, whether this will cause the child to be born with defects, we are unsure as of now, but will continue to monitor the child upon birth.” The doctor states while flipping pages on the clipboard.

“Thank you Doctor.” my father says before looking to my mother, whom seemed to show a sign of relief despite having thrust herself down a flight of stairs in an attempt to force a miscarriage.

Everything fades to white again and this time I wake in the familiar hospital room I was in multiple times before. Was that me she was trying to get rid of? Why didn’t she want me? Did my mother not love me? From what I seen in the village we had our quarrels, but was that really all it took for me to kill her? And why did I kill the rest of my family too? This had to have been because of the trauma. It just had to have been.

I feel around my head and notice a slight indentation, most likely where I suffered the trauma. I shake it off and walk out of the room, into once again, a different hallway. There is only one door at the left end of the hall, so I go to it. On the door, Patient 15-975 can be seen etched on a metal plaque. I slowly open the door and see a padded room, covered in what looks to be flesh blood. Skin litters the floor and a strong, putrid scent fills the air. I look at the skin again and notice it is burnt. I choke up a bit, close to vomiting.

Taking a look at the center of the room, I notice a chair with a decayed corpse attached to it. There is a bowl on the corpse’s head, attached to the chair. The wrists and ankles are shackled to the chair. Is this an electric chair? I look closer and see wires coming from it. Yes, this is an electric chair. What is it doing here?

Right after I ask myself that, a light shines on the chair and the corpse looks at me, a pair of eyes forming in the empty sockets of the skull. It has a menacing, angry look and just stares at me. A few seconds later the chair kicks on and sends high voltages of electricity through the corpse, causing it to shake and spark. Smoke starts rising from the corpse and then it suddenly stops.

A few seconds later the process repeats, this time so much electricity is sent through the corpse it blinds me, as this happens the corpse screams. “YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGIVEN!”

The blindness then fades and I realize I am strapped to the chair. I look to the door and see Dr. Kromstein enter with a sinister looking grin on his face. He walks to a lever and looks at me, his eyes glowing red.

“You heard it plenty of times, Patient 15-975, and yet, you still try and seek forgiveness. You will never be forgiven for what you have done. No matter how much regret is in your heart. No matter how much your mind wants to forget it all. You are all mine now.” He pulls the lever and a shock courses through my veins, immediately causing my body to go stiff.

“NOOOOOO!” I scream, trying my hardest to break free.

I can smell the flesh start to burn. No matter how much electricity runs through me, I still retain my consciousness and watch as my flesh boils and peels away, burning from the heat of the electricity. After a few minutes Dr. Kromstein turns off the chair and walks up to me. By now my body is completely charred. I look up at him menacingly and he just smiles.

“You think this is it don’t you? Unfortunately you are wrong. I have much, much more in store for you my friend.” He says, chuckling.

I finally start to lose consciousness. I keep fighting to stay awake, not wanting to go through any more, but it doesn’t work. I eventually lose consciousness and my head falls limply to the side.

Everything is completely white. I can hear a news broadcast playing, but can’t see where I am.

“The Nexus Killer is still at large. The police urge everyone to stay indoors at night and don’t travel alone if capable. The Nexus Killer is armed and dangerous. Please, if you see any sightings don’t hesitate to contact the police with information.” The news anchor says in a serious tone.

Everything finally comes into view and I’m in an abandoned warehouse. I see a radio sitting on a table, being the source of the news broadcast. A person is sitting in a rotting chair and I can hear a snicker as the anchor talks about the Nexus Killer. The chair slowly turns and a being is wearing a mask. It is of a skull with gray strands of hair drooping down the right side of the face. This must be the Nexus Killer. It looks like the Nexus Killer is looking right at me, but as I stare back I realize the gaze is directed behind me.

I turn around and see at least 20 barrels. Some filled with body parts, others empty. Limbs, fingers, toes, organs, teeth, torsos, and heads occupy the barrels. This is just a vision but I can still smell the rotting corpses, casting a rancid, dreadful stench throughout the atmosphere of the warehouse. Is this me? Is the Nexus Killer also Patient 15-975? I shake the thoughts away as things go white again, and I awake in a room. It’s not the same as the usual room, but this time I am chained by the wrists.

Before I know it I hear a crack as a sharp pain hits my back. I realize I am shirtless and look behind me to see Dr. Kromstein standing there, whip in hand. He cracks it across my back again, and another stab of pain shoots through me, causing my muscles to tense and my hands clench into fists. He laughs menacingly and continues cracking at my back, sending multiple jabs of pain through my body.

“How does it feel? How do you like the pain? Does it excite you? Does it turn you on? This is what they felt as you sawed away at their flesh. This is what they felt as you grinded away at their bones. Do you like being at this end of the leash? It doesn’t feel too good does it? This is what you will go through for the rest. Of. Your. Life.” He said, cracking the whip in between words at the last part.

I flinch each time and fade out of consciousness again. I then wake in a gurney, strapped down with doctors all around me. We are travelling through the decaying, rotting walls of the desolate asylum. I lift my head but am too dizzy to make out where we are going. We enter a room and a bright light shines into my eyes. After the temporary blindness fades I see we are in an operating room. Dr. Kromstein walks up and looks at me, his eyes clearly showing a smile is hidden behind the operating mask. He takes out a huge, jagged saw and begins sawing away at my arm. Immense pain courses through it, but not enough to cause me to pass out. He must have gave me just a bit of anesthesia to keep the pain tolerable.

He laughs again and shows me my severed arm before tossing it into a barrel. He then walks over to the other side and saws away at my other arm, leaving me helplessly squirming in pain and desperation to break free. It does no use, and he severs my other arm and tosses it into the barrel. By this time the pain is so strong that I fade out.

I wake a bit later to see the most horrifying sight. I am moving, but I can’t feel any of my limbs. I look down and realize I have none. I don’t even have a torso. I look up and see Kromstein carrying me over to the barrel. He looks me in the eyes, lowers his mask, and grins before speaking.

“Welcome home, Nexus Killer.” He says as he slams me into the barrel, shutting the lid, leaving me helpless in the darkness and pile of my limbs and organs.

How am I still alive? I should have passed on within 5 seconds of being beheaded. I don’t understand this at all. I can feel the barrel being moved and the sound of wheels squealing across the floor. Where am I being taken?

Suddenly my head jolts forward and hits the side of the barrel hard. I still feel the pain. The lid of the barrel then opens and my body parts fall out onto a slab. I feel intense heat and my face somehow starts to sweat. I am able to see what looks like a furnace out the corner of my eye and the slab is quickly moving toward it. It looks like this is the end. I don’t care if I die. I want to die. If it means getting out of this shithole then I welcome death.

My body parts enter the furnace and I can feel the flames burning against my skin. All my senses still work. I can smell my flesh start to burn. I can see the skin on my limbs start to bubble and peel away. I can hear the cackle of the flames. I can taste the sweat and melting flesh sliding into my mouth. Finally my consciousness fades and everything goes black, then white.

I’m in a familiar bedroom. It looks like mine when I was younger. I see a figure, covered in blood. I see myself, as a child, covered in the blood of my family, sitting on the edge of the bed. I’m not sad. I don’t show any fear, or worry, or pain at what I’ve done. In fact, I look happy. I have a smile on my face. As I walk closer to myself I notice I am holding my father’s head. It has a wide-mouthed expression of horror on it. One of the eyes are missing from the socket.

My child self stands up, drops the head, and walks to a dresser drawer. I watch as I pull out a mask. The same mask I saw the being in the warehouse wearing. I continue watching as I slowly put it on then turn to look out the window. I can see the joy in my childlike eyes despite having just killed my entire family.

Everything fades up and I wake again, but this time in an empty room. There are grates below my feet and what look like sprinklers above. What is this place? Before I can take a step the sprinklers turn on, dousing me in what looks like water. It starts off very cold, but then slowly starts to warm up. What is this stuff? It keeps getting hotter and hotter to the point where I hyperventilate and start to shake.

I can’t stop shaking as the burning intensifies to the point where my flesh begins to peel and fall away. It is like watching bits of snow fall from the roof of a house in the winter. I hear a sickening flop as the skin falls to the existing pile of flesh on the floor. There is no snowy glow, no pleasant winter chill; just the bitter cold of my fear overwhelming me as I can see the red of my blood and my muscles slowly pulling apart, leaving me to become nothing more than a skeleton falling to the floor as the acid eats away at my joints.

“The Nexus Killer has been detained. We were granted access to the interview area to listen in on what the killer has to say about the actions taken against those killed. By request of the government, we had to add a mask to the voice. Let’s hear what has to be said.” A female reporter speaks before turning to a room with a being in the familiar mask and a doctor.

“Hello Patient 15-975, do you understand why you are here?” The doctor asks, preparing to write on a notepad.

The Nexus Killer slowly nods, watching the doctor closely. The doctor, wearing white scrubs with a nametag that read Kromstein, leans forward a bit and speaks again.

“Would you share with us why you’re here? We wish to hear it from you. We wish to hear why you took the actions you chose to take. We are here to help you. We are here to understand you.” Kromstein states, curiously looking at the Nexus Killer.

“I am here because I was caught. I couldn’t escape this time. I killed many people; and would have killed many more if I were able to. I hid the bodies. I hid them in places you will never, ever find. They deserved it doctor. They deserved to be ripped apart. They deserved to bleed all over the very earth they stained. They can never be forgiven for what they have done.” The Nexus Killer states calmly.

Dr. Kromstein writes on the notepad, nodding. “Why do you feel they deserved their fate?”

The Nexus Killer chuckles and shifts a bit. “Are you familiar with Carpe Diem, Doctor? Seize the day as it is popularly translated to. We have to cherish the life we have on this planet. We have to treat each day as if it is our last. We mustn’t take things for granted. These people took everything for granted. They walked around as if they were all high and mighty. They spoke as if they deserved to be here, as if God chose them as the elite, the worthy, and the faithful. No such thing exists. There is no God. There is no higher being that determines who lives or dies.”

“But you did?” Dr. Kromstein interrupts, writing more on the notepad.

The Nexus Killer leans forward, looking at Kromstein. “That’s just it doctor. We NEED someone to determine who lives and who dies. It’s what keeps the world turning. We are always told to leave things to fate. Fate is what WE make it. We NEED someone to control fate and keep the world in order. Without it the earth would run rampant. Without people like me, like the Casanova Killer, like Dahmer, the world would go into chaos as we know it. We are the saviors. WE are the chosen. And WE will control fate and keep the world in order. Those who do wrong will NEVER be forgiven.”

Everything goes white and I wake in the familiar hospital bed. It is then I finally realize why I’m here. This is my home. This is my fate. This is what I’ve chosen to become; where I've chosen to lead myself. I need to stop running and accept what I've become. I need to stop running from my past and instead embrace it. I grab a glass shard and slide it across my neck slowly, smiling as the blood oozes down my neck. I lay back in the bed and smile, waiting for my heaven to come and take me home.

Epilogue

“We don’t know what went wrong doctor. We followed the procedures to the T. Something must have happened to prevent the neuro-agents from getting to the brain. More research is going to need to be done.” A woman states.

A handsome young doctor stands next to her, studying documents. He has black hair combed back and gelled, with a chiseled face. He closes the folder and takes another look at the being inside. The being is rocking back and forth, muttering and looking at nothing in particular.

“You will never be forgiven.” The woman says, still looking at the patient.

“I’m sorry?” The doctor responds, unsure of why the woman said what she said.

“It’s what the patient is muttering, doctor. ‘You will never be forgiven.’ It seems the patient still remember the past, or is simply refusing to forget. It’s what leads us to believe the neuro-agents didn't activate.” The woman answers.

“I see. Well it seems that we are going to have to continue our studying. It’s not too late. We will still be able to succeed. We just need more time. I am positive we can get the neuro-agents to react. We must complete this. It could change the world. It could save so many lives. We must keep trying. Keep monitoring the patient the best you can. I’ll talk with the other doctors and see if we can come to an agreement to do more research.” The doctor says and shuts the slab that allows the doctors to look into the room.

The two doctors turn to walk away, a patch reading Kromstein able to be seen on the male doctor’s scrubs. Patient 15-975 is etched on the slab. A scream then echoes throughout the halls of Kromstein Mental Institution.