So It Begins

She's running, panting for air. He's near, but she never knows where until it's too late. The old building is a maze of rooms. It appears to be some kind of an old lab or medical facility.

She turns a corner by a dirty sink and screams at the sight of him. She's trapped at a dead end.

His dark eyes seem kind, almost familiar, but she knows what he is about to do. As always, he easily overpowers her.

He says, "You're mine now." His needle plunges into her neck. She keeps screaming until she passes out.

As usual, she then finds herself on an old gurney. She knows she can't move. She's always paralyzed, but she tries anyway. It's no use. All she can move is her eyes.

He looks down on her with something close to pity. His expression changes. He's sinister. Unapologetic.

"Shall we begin?" he snarls. He pulls out his sharp knives. She knows she'll feel everything, even though she can no longer attempt to escape or even scream.

He begins cutting the word "MINE" on her stomach. She knows what it will say because she's seen it before. She feels every entry of the knife, every slash as he digs deeper into her flesh. Internally, she screaming louder than a foghorn. Nothing comes out. She feels tears fall down both sides of her face, with no hope to wipe them dry. She wishes she could pass out, but she never finds that relief.

For what seems like hours, he meticulous carves designs and words on her arms, legs, and chest. She knows it won't be long now. He brings out a large, pointy tool, like a fire poker. He says, "Let's see what your heart is made of." He plunges the poker deep into her chest.

*

Jennifer gasped and sat up in bed. She had experienced the same nightmare five nights in a row now. Who was this man? Why was he haunting her dreams every night?

She was a wreck. She couldn't concentrate at work. She was constantly tired, but she was afraid to go to sleep.

She poured herself a strong cup of coffee and decided to do some research. A quick internet search showed that there was a very old building, "Fallbrook Asylum," on the outskirts of the city which had been closed in 1952 for "legal reasons." She had no idea if it had anything to do with her nightmare, but she intended to find out. Doing anything proactive was better than doing nothing.

Being Friday, she had to shower and get to work, but she planned to investigate the old asylum the next day, perhaps with a friend.

After work, she flopped on the couch and turned on a sitcom, wanting to lighten the mood, and not having the energy to do anything else. Before long, she nodded off.

*

She's running again. She passes an office with broken glass walls. The sign above the door says, "Fallbrook Asylum" in faded dark blue letters.

She tries the front door, knowing from experience that it will be locked. It is. She runs down the main hall, hoping to find something she can use as a weapon and a place to hide. She finds a broom and waits behind a door. When he enters, she swings with all her might and hits him across the face. It serves to anger him. His dark eyes have no kindness in them as he plunges his needle in her neck. “You’re mine now.”

*

Someone shook her arm, calling, "Jennifer, wake up."

It was dark, but she was thankful to have avoided the worst of her nightmare. Something was wrong.

"Hey!" she yelled. "Why am I tied up? Where am I?"

A bright, modern lantern was turned on, temporarily blinding Jennifer. When her vision adjusted, she noticed she was on an old gurney. A man came into view. He had a bandage on his face.

"Malcolm?"

It was her Ex-boyfriend.

"Yes, Jennifer. You put up quite a fight with a broom, of all things."

Then something occurred to her. "Your name is Malcolm..."

"Yes, Malcolm Fallbrook. My great-grandfather opened this asylum. The land is still in our family even though he was disgraced for doing experimental treatments on patients. He was just trying to help. Everyone blamed him for the deaths. I'm sure he didn't... it doesn't matter now."

"Malcolm, I..."

"You really shouldn't have dumped me the way you did, in front of all my friends. They laughed at me, Jennifer. They laughed. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Of course not. Your heart must be made of stone. We'll see."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm."

"It's too late for that now. I have plans for you. You hurt me, and now, you're going to pay for it." He pulled out a needle.

"No, Malcolm. Please! Don't do this. We could... we could… get back together again."

There it was. His eyes were kind. Pity flashed across his face. Then, his expression changed. He was sinister. Unapologetic.

"Shall we begin?"