Victim

A Story by Dawnwritings

When a so-called-killer finds herself in an unfamiliar place, she begins to doubt everything that holds her reality together. When you can't even trust yourself, where do you turn?

I was in a snowy forest standing upon what looked like to now be smashed up flesh. I was standing there proud of what I've done. The emotion of giddy made me feel happy. I had killed three people. I didn't even know who they were. I killed them in the most horrific way I could. Their limbs were bent backward, their eyes bulging out of their head, their skulls obliterated into the ground. Their mouths cut to make their smile go all the way up to their ears. I felt as if the trees around me had emotions and faces. And it felt like they were standing there honoring me in the best way they could. It felt nice to be appreciated even if it was by an object.

But then I heard something behind me. It was no rustle, it sounded like a human. I ran as fast as I could into the forest. Something was following me but I didn't dare to look back. As I was running, I don't know how I didn't notice it. My foot slipped on the snow. I closed my eyes as I fell down a small cliff but I realized I only fell a couple inches. I gazed down below me. I was sitting upon a small mountain of bodies that almost looked identical to mine but just ever so slightly more brutal. I envied the way the blood looked so shiny against the complexion of the snow.

But I knew that I hadn't made those bodies. Their sad expressions were not mine to enjoy. Someone else caused those bodies.

It was the person quietly standing behind me and then I realized now I was the victim.

-----

My head violently raged with agony. My eyes were fuzzy. I couldn't tell where I was. All I could see was my feet. I was in a lightish dark room and for some reason I was sitting curled up in the corner on the floor. I was busy trying to remember where I was but then it came to me I was in a mental asylum. I hadn't killed three people, I had killed 82. I was shocked when I remembered everything. Everything that just happened before was some kind of dream or hallucination. I remembered I had not eaten for three days because earlier I tried to strangle one of the police officers there. So they put me in isolation. I think that's what caused my hallucinations. I knew I desperately needed to get out of there.

Then I heard a knock on the door and a man walked in. He was one of the police officers that worked there. He had an expressionless face. “Are you ready to come out?”

I looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. He looked like he didn't have a thought in the world but I bet he would regret that soon. I honestly wished the universe would give him something more intriguing to think about like a favorite thought or his family if he had one. I stared blankly at him and then I had an amazing thought, I could get out of here.

I charged at the officer, my arms and legs filled with rage. I ran towards him. I used my nails and stabbed him in the eyes while he was rubbing his eyes. I shoved him against the wall and strangled him. I saw the corpse lying there on the floor. I couldn't just escape by walking out the front door so I put on the officer's clothes and his key card but I figured that wasn't enough.

I stripped the flesh off his face and the skin underneath looked nothing but red. Phlegm was piling outside of his nostrils. His eyes had a moist texture. I watched as decay slowly infiltrated his body. The smell was intrusive. I really didn't want to be discovered so to appear as the officer I put his skin on my face I can imagine it looked disturbing considering the coloring seeping out.

But I needed to hide the corpse. I decided to put the remains in the ceiling but I figured that wasn't enough, so I shoved the body in the pipes that I found up there. The sound was disharmonic. I could hear the flesh struggling to get through the pipes. But I had to consider that blood runs so much thicker than liquid of bronze and silver. The urge to do worse was out of hand and the smell was nauseating. I had a feeling that the room would be considered unlucky from now on, considering the body now in the ceiling.

As I made my way past the door, I was surprised to see there were more doors like mine ahead. They had the same little widow and as I walked down the hall I peeked in. To my surprise, they were also being tortured for whatever crimes they committed. I saw a person in a chair with a doctor beside them. I couldn't see their faces but the doctor had a black syringe and was injecting it into the patient. They started shaking violently. I was glad that I had killed that police officer just in time because who knows what would've happened to me.

I walked away quickly because I didn't want to be noticed. There were many more doors but I didn't want to look into them for what else might I see. I walked down the stairs to the first floor of the building. I was filled with anxiety. My esophagus was tight. There was a man guarding the door off to the side. I passed him like I was needless, forgetful, and didn't have a care in the world.

He glanced over at me, but I wasn't nervous. I slipped him a note and vanished outside the door. I watched from afar his confused expression. He gazed at the note that said, “You might want to check the ceiling of Room 112.”

I found myself standing not too far from the gates of the asylum. I decided to observe my surroundings because I had no idea where I was. I saw pipes dripping into a dark alley they twisted up into the walls cracking the cement sealed in place.

I heard the sirens. They were looking for me.

I needed to escape quickly if I could escape through the sewers they wouldn't find me for a while. I decided to follow the pipes down the alley. I saw red-eyed rats scurrying against the path and it only got darker and darker. There were vines green and black as tar. The vines were so bare-faced but yet complete like water rubbing against the rocks in the ocean, slowly sanding down, disappearing and decaying over the years. As I made my way to the end, I saw a hole in the ground leading to the sewers. I jumped in trying to escape from the sirens slowly receding behind me.

I made my way to a stream in the sewer and carefully peeled the man’s flesh off my face and cast it into the murky current. The red coloring diffused through the water like a corrupted mind getting slowly eaten away by maggots and bacteria. I sat down, tired from all the running. I didn't even notice the small hidden footsteps traveling through the air.

A man started walking towards me from afar. He was working in the sewers because he got a complaint that there was blockage in the pipes so he needed to come down to figure out what the disturbance was. He was wearing a radiant yellow suit with a horribly bright flashlight soon to be coming up to the cornea of my eye. Once he saw me, he called, “Who are you? Why are you dressed like that? You shouldn't be in here,” he said. “Wait, you’re that person that escaped from the mental hospital!” He picked up a walkie-talkie and said, “I found the problem.”

A bunch of people jumped in. It was unusual and unexpected. They put a cloth on my face and it made me pass out.

-----

I woke up in a hospital in a blank white room with no one there. It had a door like the one I saw before. It was so quiet it was almost ironic. I looked to the side of the bed and there was a calendar. It seemed to be the attention of the room like it was a hyperfixation. It had nothing on it which I thought to be odd. No one was around. I don't think anyone would notice if I left.

I looked up. There was a small vent big enough to fit me. Maybe I could crawl around and find some different rooms to look around in. I stood on the bed just about reaching the vent. I crawled in and it smelled like dark gray dust in a corridor behind a forgotten shelf. It gave me the nostalgic feeling of little cracks you've never found in a house before and figuring out where they lead to, placing notes or objects for other beings to find.

As I was in the vent I saw there were many paths leading to different areas. The sun was shining through the cracks of the vent. It was precise, exact and accurate. I crawled through but I started to see feet also in the vents with me exiting in the same space as me scraping through the little rooms to bring cold air to beings to slowly shut down their bodies. “Hello?”

They turned to me, hauling their body in my direction, their mind transferred to me, relocating their attention. “Who are you? Why are you in the vents?”

“I came from the mental asylum I escaped but they caught me then I woke up here,” I calmly said.

She repositioned closer to me. “Nice to meet you, we can be friends.”

“What’s your name?” I said with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one, I grew up here. What about you?” she asked me.

I said my name. She tried to say it but she said it wrong so I corrected the pronunciation.

“What did you do to get in here?” she asked.

“Honestly, I'm not sure.” At the time I had amnesia so I had buried and left behind the memory of me carelessly killing all those people.

I felt a cold draft. It started getting colder and colder. It didn't feel like someone was simply too warm and needed some frosty air to cool down the atmosphere. The air was frigid, too cold for someone with a normal body temperature. “Stop,” I said to my friend who was still talking.

“What?”

“Do you feel that?” I said.

“Feel what?” she uttered.

“That cold draft. In hospital morgues they keep the air cold to keep bodies intact.”

“So?” she said, uninterested.

“So if we follow this cold draft there could be bodies here. If there are other dead people then there's a good chance that we could be killed too.”

The realization hit her like her whole life could be over in an instant. “Let's follow the direction of the wind and it should take us to a different room.”

We crawled through following the cold dreadful wind soon to be hit with fear. As we approached where the wind was coming in from, I no longer felt a cold draft. It was more of a deceased dire current. I peeked through the small cracks in the opening of the vent. It was a small room with three tables with something covered in cloth.

There was definitely some sort of human being underneath the garment. The entire body felt like it was giving off a smell of despair, discomfort and eternal weeping. There was a nurse in the room staring at her chart looking for names.

Another nurse walked in and said, “Which one is next?”

The first one said, “The one that's been here for quite some time---the girl that was raised here.” The other nurse silently agreed and they both proceeded to walk out the door. I had to get back to my room fast before they caught both of us sneaking out of our rooms. I told my newfound friend that we needed to go back to our rooms because they were going to look for us soon. She silently understood, passing away the thoughts in her mind. We both had an image of shock and disbelief, but also understanding and acceptance.

We both shuffled our way through the vents and back to our rooms. I made my way down the path that I have made once before. I got out of the vent and down onto my bed. I tucked in the covers, trying to pretend that I was still passed out from before.

Shortly after, one nurse walked in---the nurse I had seen before. She just stepped in to check if I was still asleep, nothing too serious. I was still confused as to why I was here. It was appalling. I wonder what it was all for. She left the room checking something off her notepad. But all I could do was go to sleep. I thought to myself as I was drifting off into outer space and time. I was very grateful to my new found friend. I had never had a person in my life before ever since I was born. I don't remember having anyone. Honestly I don't remember anything that happened before my hallucinations. It was always so puzzling. She kept me company, maybe not just coexisting but actually living. Then I dropped off into sleep, falling into my lost sanity.

-----

I woke up feeling dazed. I felt like a light luster of numbness and solitude. My eyes are still misty and unclear from the photographic images in my head. I sat up and then began to wonder where my friend went the day before. One of the nurses sounded like it was important to take her. I got up, fearful for my friend. I wasn't going to find her by looking through the halls---someone might find me and who knows what would happen. I decided to go back up into the vents. I knew that she always crawls in there so I figured I'd meet her somewhere in there. She was probably waiting for me anyway, assuming that I would climb up. I reached up into the vents, unaware what would happen next as I crawled up. I felt as if the atmosphere was waiting for me like a curse was about to uphold. It was like I was traveling into a memory from the past---a past that was filled with swaying dandelions beside water as smooth as ice and pure as golden leaves.

I made my way through the vents in search of my friend then I heard a faint voice, a scream echoing through the darkness. It sounded like my friend. I could hear it on the other side of the air ducts. I rushed in the direction of the sound. The adrenaline rushed through my veins.

As I got closer, I could hear someone else in the room talking. I turned around the corner, gradually getting closer to the vent. There was a small crack letting a small amount of dim light through, soiling the ground below. There, I saw my friend on a table. There was something that looked kind of like a pressure plate. Her legs were far above her head, bending her in half. She couldn’t move but she could speak. I think she was under anesthesia. She had grown up in this place so I think she was too old so they had to kill her. The doctors had clipboards and were writing stuff down. I moved my hand over my face to the horrifying scene.

She knew I was there but the doctors hadn’t noticed. She started talking to me, saying, “Don’t leave me here, don't leave me here with these people! Haven't I given enough to this world?”

My throat tightened, my spit and tears were sitting against the back of my throat like slow suffocating but only with half the pressure.

The doctors thought that she was just mentally insane talking to herself like a psychopath, but they didn’t look surprised because that was what she was supposedly in this asylum for. One of them said, “Just finish already, she’s clearly unstable.”

They pressed a button and the pressure plate above her legs and spine started slowly coming down. She screamed louder, “Don’t leave me here, don’t leave m---” It crushed her, but in that split second before, she whispered, “Go see the future for me.”

Her spine snapped in half, her spinal fluid covered the floor, her intestines spilled out onto the ground and her face was desiccated. Her limbs were bent backwards and it reminded me of what I had done. She was dead before she even hit the floor. Such awful silence filled the room like a dark void it turned cold and eerie. I held my breath at the horrific stench.

What disturbed me the most was that the doctors didn’t scream or laugh, they just stared blankly at her. They didn’t even flinch and in my opinion, that is the most terrible way to express. Maybe in this case they were the ones that were the psychopaths---they were the villains in this story. I felt like I had dried out tears of sadness and sorrow on my face as I was still up in the vents trying to process the thought before me. She was dead. But the saddest truth of all was she was going to heaven but I was not. I wonder how her parents would react to knowing that their only daughter has passed. But maybe someday she would meet me in Hell and we could consume the cruelness of the world together. See you on the other side, friend.

But then I found myself lacking all emotion. Why did I have no concern for my friend? I had always forgotten at that moment I had amnesia. I didn't even consider the body in front of me. Her existence was irrelevant to this earth. No one on this planet remembered her. I said that I would remember her but I’m just a liar. To the world she was not worth killing. She was pathetic. Her remains lay there like a waste. Even though I could not recall her, I would be back to meet her. And somewhere in this universe she was waiting for me. It made me think that the most brutal thing is time---all of your memories and experiences disappear over the generations. The things you discover become forgotten over the years and get reclaimed by a small child just playing in the woods. History books do not carry the real truths of the world or the iterations between two that will someday mark the lines in a book just to be repeated. No one’s coming back and no one's going to try to stay just to remember you. Nothing ever lasts forever.

I heard someone calling my name. They knew I was lost, they knew I was somewhere in the building. I could hear them scurrying around, looking in every place. The nurses were on alert but I was still up there in the air ducts. I shuffled fast anywhere but here.

The nurses heard me and they screamed at the guards to follow the trail I was leaving behind. I raced down the paths yelling after me. I made it to a dark room that looked almost abandoned, just displayed with dusty mops and dissected cardboard. I heard the guards' voices from afar. They were splitting up and one guard alone was coming toward me. I looked around me, there was nothing but a black syringe. I grabbed it like it could be the truth to the world.

The guard opened the door carelessly. I stabbed him with the syringe he shook violently then fell to the ground he was dead. A voice in my head said, Look what you’ve done. I had killed one another.

I ran out the first door I could see. Before I made it out I could see again more doors like mine ahead. I couldn't do anything. The doors beside me were different worlds, trapped in places they didn't want to be. I couldn't save them. My body wouldn’t move, or maybe it was me that couldn’t move to help them. Humans are so vile and disgusting. They don’t think about anyone but themselves. The only thing I was thinking was, Please not them. I couldn’t save them because of my stupid twisted way of thinking and mindset. I couldn't save them, and if I couldn’t, then who would? The voices in their head would kill them in their sleep or maybe they would do it themselves. I wish I didn’t have to leave. I could’ve saved them but I didn’t and that was what I regretted the most. Maybe behind those doors they were staring at me with hatred or hope. The real thing was they were sitting there wasted because I was too afraid to stand up to this corrupted nature.

They maybe could’ve thought that I could be better than whatever this was. But they shouldn't do it, they shouldn’t kill themselves because life means experiencing sadness, happiness, devastation, and anguish. Death means you won’t be able to relive the life and soul you had once before. And you can’t go back. Those sweet memories of you playing in the park or an ice cream store with your father, who is too old to even walk on his own anymore or play catch would all disappear and no one would be left to remember your loved ones, not even you. When you look in the reflection, you don’t see what you wanna see because you’re not. You’re looking at something horrific or beautiful that’s living far away in a different dimension.

I took a breath of the cold air and finally I opened the doors in a rush. The sunlight burned my eyes in a haze. I was free, my mind filled with a mad, confused rhyme.

Where the past of millions from long ago can be found and retrieved in the city of stone. You can hear a soft saint sound. But where can freedom truly be found? Mistake a road in reverse. The outcome there could be much worse. Live a life you will just cherish. Feel a luster light of perish. Don’t ask someone and act so curious. Get and savor their wondrous beliefs. Visit a grave with a slight gray grieve. The answers you will get will change how you perceive. Enchantments from one to another find a world demolished in discover. It was someone else's voice speaking in my head but at this point I didn't even care. I was free, the ground below looked like it was a part of the Earth that was forgotten with cut-up grass and the sun barely shining through, but it was more than enough. I felt like the Earth and sun had fallen down into mercy. It was a divine angelic delusion. The earth was a soft lake filled with glassed clouds. A soothing numb air drenched in a warm embrace, obtaining different perspectives, forms and personalities---like pixels falling from the sky. The world escalated into an endless cycle of a silent war between our corrupted nature and our broken society of a world. And I could tell and remember the story of it all.

Then a cold itch went up my leg from the wind getting carried in the far valley of the field, like patience just waiting to be disturbed. I turned stiff and petrified. Everything changed to black and I couldn’t feel my body. It felt dark and cold. I was no longer in the world I was in before. There was a thin layer of cerulean, colored water drifting into a small puddle. I saw a small white light coming slowly towards me. I started to stand unintentionally with no control. I felt inconsolable with curiosity.

There was a man. He was in a white robe with an abnormally distorted, misshapen face. His hands looked wrinkly and tired like they had been up for thousands of years placed in the gesture of a hug.

“Hello,” I said.

“Yes?” he responded.

“What’s happening?”

“Everyone on the Earth is experiencing these delusions of the afterlife. Some could be ordinary or distinct. Psychopaths can be the only soul beings that are sane and aware of the world, but normal common people are the ones that drown themselves in their own fantasy and heritage. But that’s just a matter of perspective.”

It took me some time to realize but this place was timeless, endless with the feeling of everlasting freedom and separation. But in that moment of silence I realized I was dead. I was dead this entire unbroken time though everything but not just me we were all dead. We were all experiencing schemes of the next world. Everyone on the Earth was dead with their minds playing tricks on them of what the afterlife should look like.

“You should be considered lucky because you’ve made it out of the trap of delirium. We are all trapped in fantasies and illusions of different humanities. But you have made it out.”

No wonder it was all confusing. I didn’t even question how I didn’t know that. I didn’t even have a name or a face this entire time, but I didn’t even think to consider that. I asked him, “How did it come to this? How did everyone on the planet die?”

He said in a strict tone that the Earth's time had come, and it was time for nature to rule. The sun had exploded and consumed the Earth in flames, leaving no one or nobody behind. The rain of fire was the angels' tears because there was no one left for them to look down upon.

I was grateful because everyone that had died before in my hallucinations could be free. As I roam the Earth below, there would be no one left to remember me. Just as history goes on and someday will be reborn. To a new tomorrow a new world I will not see with my open eyes again. To the days of old and the days anew are descendants and ancestors lived to give us survival and remains of rebirth and endurance. They told us the mistakes of the past from cities encased in stone and tombs covered by sand. They gave us empires to rule continents to shift and societies to change. A gift of gratitude with all my thanks.

Before I knew it, the man was gone, and I was stuck to drift in an endless white arena. I could look up into the stars and find a friend still not knowing what her name was. It was so peaceful with quiet little anxious steps coming closer to my direction. Reality is not real, only when you dream you can wake up and realize what exact world we are living in.

Death can be a pitiless curse or it could be a sympathetic generosity.

It’s whatever you decide.

Written by H. Van Fleet