ALL NOVEL Chapter 36 Winged and Wicked Part 2.
Walking through the door to the hospital room was the sick bastard from my dreams. Except he was missing the things the other him had, like the wings and long silver hair. Also, the horrible smile. Instead, I was greeted by a man who looked sleep-deprived, with a weak smile plastered on his face.
He glanced over my chart and then asked some basic questions. He inquired about any recent changes in my day-to-day life or if I had been exposed to anything unusual at work. He then asked about my anxiety, specifically if I felt it was getting worse. After taking my blood, he had no more questions for me and left the room.
Thinking about why he looked like the person from my dreams, I forced myself to believe it was just a weird coincidence and nothing was wrong. I couldn't let myself get paranoid over something I couldn't control. Maybe my subconscious picked him up from the background the last time I was here. Yeah, that had to be it. "Come on, use the logical brain you've been developing your whole life with Father," I thought to myself.
Lack of sleep is definitely one reason I might be seeing things like this. Anxiety has always been present but wasn't usually this bad, so I'm not sure it’s the cause. Paranoia seems more likely, especially combined with PTSD from when I almost lost my family. But none of that should be able to alter my memories. Simulation... Nah, that can't be right.
"Ding! New skill gained. Lesser Mental Resistance Lv 1/10," a floating dull broken box with text suddenly appeared before me.
"Alright, now I am going insane," I muttered as I stared at the broken box. In my dreams, there was never a noise when I gained a skill. Why would there be one now? Also, the box is weird-looking too. It looked as if someone burned it, then took a hammer and hit it with it. Nothing like what I had back then, those were changing slowly as the dreams progressed going from blue to a reddish color.
Before I could think more about what was going on, a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I swiped the box away like I usually did. The doctor returned, informing me that I needed to get a CT scan and a few other tests. A nurse would soon take me to get everything done today to determine if something was wrong and, depending on the results, find out what was happening to me. Then he left again, leaving me to my thoughts once more.
Hours passed, and I ignored the persistent dinging noise indicating that the skill had leveled up to level 2. Another hour later, a nurse came by and took me for the tests.
In the examination room, the nurse gave me an injection of intravenous contrast dye for the CT scan. I never knew the dye would be neon white. I guess you learn something new every day. As I lay down in the machine, a wave of discomfort washed over me, making me feel as if I were chained down again.
That's when I passed out. When I woke up, I felt something soft beneath me. I tried to push myself up only to discover my arms were bound together against my back, I could still move them up and down so they weren't attached to my back just resting there. Was I in a straitjacket again? The last time this happened, Mike and Tony had pranked me during college. They had me locked up in a mental hospital because they knew the director there and had asked for his help.
Looking around, I saw that I was in the same cell as last time. But this time, there was no bed, and the room looked weathered as if it hadn't seen anyone in years. Hunger pangs hit me hard as if I hadn't eaten in days. My lips were dry and cracked, and when I opened my mouth, they started to trickle small amounts of blood. The taste was disturbingly satisfying. I strained against the straitjacket, trying to get a better sense of my surroundings. The walls were stained and chipped, with faint graffiti barely visible through the grime. The faint odor of mildew and decay filled the air, mingling with the coppery scent of my blood.
I had to get out of here. I couldn't let myself be consumed by whatever strange reality I had found myself in. But first, I needed to figure out how to free myself from the straitjacket and find some water and food. Looking at my body I saw that the straightjacket wasn't cloth but leather with metal locks. At least my legs weren't bound together.
Using my teeth, I tried to pull the door open. I didn’t want to be stuck here any longer than necessary. Forcing my weakened body to move, I finally managed to get the door open. It hadn't been shut properly. My teeth and jaw ached from the effort, but I knew I’d have to get used to the pain until I could get out of here. Wandering through the dimly lit corridors, I searched for an exit. The building felt like a ghost of its former self, with broken tiles and peeling wallpaper adding to its eerie atmosphere. Shadows danced in the corners of my vision, making me feel as if I was being watched.
As I cautiously made my way through the darkness, I tripped over something on the floor. I fell hard, but the impact caused a part of the leather straitjacket to catch on a sharp edge, cutting through the binding. My hands were now somewhat free. I pulled against the remaining restraints, managing to loosen them enough to free my arms completely.
Flexing my sore fingers, I took a moment to catch my breath and gather my bearings. I needed to find water and food quickly. The gnawing hunger and thirst were becoming unbearable, clouding my thoughts and weakening my resolve. Pushing onward, I continued my search for an exit, listening intently for any sounds of life or clues that might lead me out of this nightmare. Every step felt like an eternity as I navigated the crumbling hallways, hoping to find a way out before my strength gave out completely.
I had to get home and find my family. That thought propelled me forward until I heard a noise—rat squeaks. Hunger won over, and I followed the sound to its source. After a few minutes, I found a group of rats feasting on something that reeked of rot. I wasn’t interested in the scraps; I was after the rats.
I moved slowly, silently, as they fought over the scraps. Once I was close enough, I lunged, grabbing two rats with my hands and biting into a third. Blood flowed onto my tongue, and it tasted unbelievably good, far better than any food my wife had ever made. I tried to bite deeper and eat the flesh, but my body wouldn’t let me. Instead, I drank the blood, draining every drop from the first rat. I did the same with the other two, and as I finished, I felt a rush of strength and vitality. I even felt stronger than before.
Discarding the lifeless rats, I continued my escape. My senses felt sharper, and my steps more confident. I found the exit and pushed through, emerging into the night. The moon bathed the world in its light, but something was off—it had a greenish hue. Had the moon always looked this way? Whatever the case, I needed to find my way home.
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I wandered around for a few days, searching for anyone or anything that could tell me where I was. When I finally saw someone walking down the old trail I was lost on, I called out to him. He was dressed in a Park Ranger uniform.
The man spun around quickly at my call, almost shocked to see a person out here with him. When he looked at me, his eyes widened, seeing me in an all-leather full-body straitjacket with no shoes on. He immediately raised his guard, resting his hand on his gun while using his other hand to grab his radio.
"Stay put and don't move a muscle," he ordered, his voice firm. He spoke into the radio, "I've found a man out here who looks crazy. Need backup immediately."
"Wait, please," I began, trying to keep my voice calm despite my desperation. "I went to the hospital for a check-up and woke up in an abandoned building out here in the woods. I don’t know how I got here."
The ranger’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he didn’t interrupt. I continued, recounting everything that had happened: the strange doctor, the CT scan, waking up in the cell, and my escape. As I spoke, he kept a wary eye on me, but his grip on his gun relaxed slightly.
"I don't know what's going on, but I need to get home and find my family," I finished, hoping my sincerity would reach him.
The ranger hesitated, clearly torn. "Alright," he finally said, "but you're coming with me to the station. We'll sort this out there."
Relief washed over me as I nodded, willing to do anything to get out of these woods and back to civilization. The ranger kept a close watch on me as we walked, his radio crackling with updates about the backup on its way.
As we made our way down the trail, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong, not just with my situation, but with the world around me. The greenish moon, the unexplainable strength, and the taste of blood—all of it pointed to something beyond my understanding.
It took a day for the Rangers to get any information back about me, confirming my fingerprints, name, and address. When they finally received the results, they seemed uneasy, exchanging glances before approaching me.
"We've got some information," the male ranger said, his voice carefully measured. "According to the records, you died in the hospital during surgery. They say it was due to a tumor."
The words hit me like a freight train. "What do you mean, I died?" I stammered, feeling a chill run down my spine. "I'm right here. That can't be right."
"That's not all," he continued, his expression grim. He handed me a small mirror. "You need to see this."
With trembling hands, I took the mirror and held it up to my face. The reflection staring back at me was monstrous. My face was disfigured and burned, looking like a grotesque horror zombie. My skin was charred in places, and my features were twisted and scarred.
"No," I whispered, dropping the mirror. The sound of it shattering on the floor echoed in the small room. "This can't be real. What happened to me?"
The female ranger, who had been standing quietly by, stepped forward. "We don't know what happened, but we need to figure this out. Until then, we have to keep you here for observation. You understand, right? We will also be calling in some help so we can get you transfered to the cops or some other department as we don't have the resources to handle a case like this."
I nodded numbly, my mind racing. If the records said I was dead, what was I? How had I ended up in the woods, and why did I look like this? The taste of blood, the greenish moon, and the inexplicable strength—everything seemed like pieces of a horrifying puzzle that I couldn't put together.
The rangers escorted me to a secure room at the station, where I was left alone with my thoughts. The walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of my new reality pressing down on me. I needed answers, but I didn't even know where to begin.
Ding