Act II
September 10th 2013, 5:00 pm, Stone-Brook Asylum
Today I decided to get answers from John; I couldn’t get over last night. Just the sheer thought of Gregory Richards- it chills me to the bone.
I don’t know why but he just… there’s something that’s not right about him. He was just too weird even for an insane person. Hell I was still trying to figure out where that whisper from last night came from. What did it mean: “day one”?
And why five days; what happens then?
These questions needed answers, so I talked to john after my shift ended; and here’s how it went:
I walked into his office, feeling nervous and on edge while I walked into the small, square, white-walled room. I was somehow afraid of what I might find out from him; after all he was Gregory’s “servant”
I walk in as he is sorting through papers. As soon as I lean on his doorway- while holding Gregory’s file- he looks up at me from what he was doing and begins the conversation. “So how’s our little friend doing?” he asked while smiling, still looking towards me. “I hope he didn’t miss me too much.”
So they were friends?- I thought to myself while I held an awkward expression while pondering his words. He notices my face and his smile is gone and is replaced with impatience in his voice. “So what is it what do you want?” He asks as he reads his paper work at his desk while listening.
“Are you friends with that guy?” I ask. “Who?” He grumbles “With the Cannibal.” I say quickly and now irritated about his playing dumb. He drops his paperwork and looks to me, now looking impatient as well. “Son, do you believe in ghosts?” He asks; which was an odd question because he knew I didn’t.
“No, sir.” I say sounding unsure because there was something urging me to say yes in the back of my mind. He just stares at me like I’m stupid and he stands up from his chair and walks at least a few feet towards me.
“Well, I do; there are ghosts and all sorts of creepy shit that haunts the night and these halls, Mr. Donally.” He tells me as I make myself stand straight in front of him and continue listening.
“But the worst of them all; the most heinous and most disturbing thing that can ever co-exist with us human beings… are demons.” The seriousness of his voice disturbed me, this man actually and truly believed in the paranormal, the sad thing is… I was starting to believe him. I mean how else could have I heard a voice whisper in my ear when no one was with me?
How do I explain that?
“So-“I began with a hint at fear at my voice. “Gregory Richards is a demon?” I ask, wishing both to be wrong and right. “No.” He says bluntly now sounding more impatient than ever as he walked back to his desk; “But sir. Then what is he?” I ask.
“He is a patient. I just said there were demons; I didn’t however say he was one.” I was getting very irritated as I walked in front of his desk; he wasn’t getting away that easily.
“But sir he told me something.” I say sounding frustrated. “Five days?” he mentions without pause and without concern.
I pause in shock that he knew. “Okay son let me tell you something: Gregory “the Cannibal” Richards is a psychopathic serial killer who will do anything to freak people out.” He continued. Then as he sat back down to his seat and I look down with a dropped jaw and confused expression he said something else.
“His other half however, is another story.” He says; suddenly I am out of my trance and I fixate my eyes toward him and my eyebrows are slanted inward. “W-wait, what?” I stutter sounding confused. He didn’t respond and suddenly anger flashes in my eyes but I somehow control myself.
“So what say you give it another go?” He asks.
I was about to walk out of the office saying: ‘fuck you’, but then he said this:
“Name your price.” John said.
“Excuse me?” I say sounding curious, is he really doing this?
“You need to do this, because I can’t tell you everything.” He starts as he sits in his desk, now sounding afraid. “What do you mean figure out everything?” I ask as he then shushes me.
“You need to stop him and it is obvious you won’t want to go unless you were being offered something more.” He explains silently from his desk. “Name your price and put an end to him.”
I was confused, I didn’t think he was serious until I looked down in his desk; his hands were shaking and I managed to spot what he was working on at his desk; the paperwork he was going through turned out to be life insurance forms from my former co-workers who had been laid off a few weeks back…. Could john very much be in trouble? Was there something more to this than I had anticipated?
“5,000.” I say quickly and he lets out a sigh of relief; “Thank you, Jason, thank you.”, “Don’t mention it.” I sigh. Suddenly the room became cold and I started to shiver.
“Jesus is the AC on blast today?” I ask him as I rub my arms with my hands to generate some warmth with friction. My white asylum uniform was too thin to keep me warm. “What do you mean?” He says silently as he stares at me with his aged face and softly colored eyes.
That’s when I noticed something; there was a shadow, a dark sort of distorted non-human shadow, hovering over John from behind him.
I stared at it and the room suddenly becomes warmer and I am no longer cold. I look down for a brief second at my arms only to notice they have grown pale. I look back up and as soon as I did, the shadow was gone and John still stared at me with his worried eyes.
“Jason…” He started. “Read the file, there is something you should know.” His words became quiet as I stare down at my hand where the file was and it was gone.
I almost panic until I see the file on John’s desk… when I didn’t put it there. I must not have remembered placing it there. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and left his office.
Tonight marks day two, I am scared. But john was too, so I am not alone on this. He couldn’t tell me but something was wrong.
Once again, here goes nothing.
September 10th 2013, 11:00 pm, Stone-Brook Asylum.
Already regretting this shit and I have only been sitting here for fifteen minutes.
Right when I got here I went through the usual routine; got called on by two guards who didn’t even recognize me from last night and I stopped by John’s office.
“I read the file, but it’s the same damn stuff I read the other night.” I tell him as soon as I walk in. He just stares down at himself looking tired and weak as he sat in his office chair.
“I hate to tell you this Jason, but you are on your own now.” He said quietly. “What do you mean?” I ask as I place the file at his front desk where he sat.
“Keep it; you need it to figure out what I am forbidden to tell you.” He sounds cold; like everything that had originally gave him purpose in life had been sucked out of him.
“What can’t you tell me?” I ask. “You will see.” He says slowly looking up to reveal that he had a bandage about the size of half his face covering his left cheek.
My eyes widen in shock. “Jesus, John what happened?” I asked now concerned for my cryptic boss’ well-being. “I was…” He looked at me trying to find the right words to say. “-punished.” He finished. I just stared at him, confused and pondering his claim.
“Like I said you are on your own.” He got up and shut off his computer to his right; and he pulled from his desk drawer and handed me a small brown paper bag. I grabbed it and looked inside to see only a flashlight. “What’s this for?” I ask. No response. He grabs his keys on his desk and gets his brown trench coat from the coat rack behind him and proceeds to the office door. Just as he is halfway out of the door he stops dead in his tracks and just stares at nothingness and I can only see the back of his grey-haired head.
There was a long silence, until he finally said: “You will see.”
And that was it. I lock up his office for him with a set of asylum keys I had. Now here I was, with my keys, the flashlight, and my file on Gregory Richards. I proceed to the cell of Gregory “The Cannibal” Richards, and prepare myself for hell.
Now here I am sitting in the small, white-walled, monitoring room with nothing but a control panel a monitoring screen and a flashlight.
I am now just sitting here watching the mysterious Gregory Richards, I haven’t talked to him yet but he seems to be doing something, I don’t know what he is doing though.
Ah shit, he is saying something.
Day two
Whoa, what the fuck?
I took my eyes off the journal for five seconds and… I didn’t write that!
Be right back.
September 11th 2013, 1:00 am, Stone-Brook Asylum.
The power went out.
I am scared shitless, I honestly don’t know what the fuck is going on.
One minute I am looking at the monitor but something was wrong… Gregory’s face contorted, into something I don’t know what. He just stared at the camera with that evil grin and all of the sudden the camera started freezing up and just paused directly on his face, with that- nasty, disgustingly contorted grin, I swear his head could have split in half with such a maniacal smile.
It was almost… demonic.
After that the power cut off and now I found use for the flashlight.
I need to get out if here, but I can’t find the door.
I just ca-
erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae,
erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae,
erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae,
erit in laqueum diaboli, et in iis, qui sine anima est animae,
He can’t be stopped Jason,
help me
Help me.
September 11th 2013, 5:00 am, My apartment.
This can’t be happening, this just can’t be real.
There is something very wrong here. Gregory is like the fucking antichrist or something I don’t know but it just…
God! This shit isn’t worth the money I am being paid; hell it’s not even worth anything.
I am just that scared right now; even as I write these words from the comfort of my own home, I still feel watched by him.
Okay… calm down. I will try and explain exactly what happened from when my flashlight had given out.
I was writing and I had dropped my journal, then I panicked. I couldn’t reach for a door but the room must have been bigger than it was because I felt around the darkness of the room and found nothing. It wasn’t before long that the desk that I was sitting at wasn’t even there anymore I was just in an empty room.
I kept hitting the flashlight clutching it with my sweaty palms; the black metal flashlight had grown warm from being in my hand for so long and the perspiration only grew as my hands clung to it for dear life.
Then that’s when it happened. The room’s singular florescent light had lit up but in a more dim-like grayish color.
First was the smell, then came the sudden realization of what surrounded me… then there was the moaning.
Body, upon bloody body, they were piled so high and blood had been spilt so much that there was no way it was even possible, this- …
It…
Oh God I am gonna be sick, the sheer thought of it had shook my core.
If there was such a thing as the soul, it shook every fiber of my own; the very bones within me were shaking.
There were dead bodies everywhere; naked, disemboweled, split-open, cut up bodies were piled high against each other. I practically stood in a puddle of blood.
Then the bodies began screaming at me.
“Run!”
“Go away!”
“Help me!”
“God… WHY?!”
Then the last voice that really got to me was the voice that came from behind me.
“Jason!” With my eyes wide with terror and my throat full of nausea and prepared to vomit I turned around and saw Gregory Richards on the floor, covered in blood, his eyes red and his body split at the waist and his legs somewhere else. His white jumpsuit (well half of it) was soaked in the crimson liquid.
I look down on him and he says this:
“Save us.”
Then from behind me once more was that same warped, demonically altered version of Gregory’s voice
“Day three” My heart could have very well jumped out of my chest and screamed bloody murder.
From there on the lights, the real lights came back on and the room was normal again.
I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my shit and left the place. Gregory had been lying down on his bed on the monitor and he was normal again. “Why?” I ask myself, in wonderment of why he was doing this to me.
“Goodnight Jason.” He said with his eyes closed and with an evil smirk.
When he said my name however it was contorted and deepened.
I then grabbed my stuff and got out of there and now I am here.
I am going to take a day off from work so that I can collect myself and possibly dig up more dirt on this guy.
But the strangest thing that had happened was that I had found what had been written in different handwriting in my journal. It wasn’t me.
It was him.
He wrote some kind of message in Latin I think, and then he asked for my help. Why would he need my help? Isn’t he trying to get me?
I’ll check into it tomorrow.
Thanks for reading; act 3 will be this Friday and please share this with friends, you guys are amazing thanks for taking the time to read this
Hells Reject 