AN: Well hello my lovely doves to my new project, the much talked about sequel to Dollhouse. As a sequel, I highly recommend that you first read that. For those of you who have already read that, you have an idea of what you are getting yourselves into, but I must provide a clear warning first. This story will have a high PG-13 rating and does contain gruesome, dark, and intense scenarios. If you cannot handle that, then this story is not for you I am afraid. If you are prepared for that fact, then please enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!
Lusorium Part 1:Momento Mori
Pulling into my usual parking space, I took a moment to gather myself for the coming shift. I had been running the Autryville Mental Health Clinic for the last 25 years, but I always needed to mentally prepare myself before walking into the doors every morning. The relatively innocuous name was intentionally designed to be relatively generic to cover up its full nature. Hidden in the outskirts of the small town of Autryville, North Carolina, AMHC was in fact one of the highest security facilities for the criminally insane in the entire state. Some of the most dangerous individuals from the surrounding states were sent through our doors and it made for an extremely volatile work environment.
The clock on my dashboard read 3:45 am so I had a few minutes before I needed to get out. Just absorbing the gentle heat from my vents, I closed my eyes as I took a series of deep breaths. Replaying the image of my beautiful wife and adorable daughter as they slept through my daily kiss before heading off to work, I took a moment to bask in my love for them and bolster myself up with memories of happy days. Pulling out my phone as I did every morning before work, I sent my customary morning greetings before promptly powering down the device and sticking it in my glove box. Cell phones were prohibited at work, so he always left it in his car.
Finding my resolve as I somehow did every morning, I turned off my car and attached my work belt before I walked out into the brisk pre-dawn air. Marching up to the sensor at the front entrance, I swiped my security card and was admitted with a faint buzz as the words Bath, Anthony lit up across the small screen. Walking into the front lobby, I was surprised to find the front desk empty. Doris had been the overnight front secretary for the facility almost as long I had been the director and she never left her station until the early morning shift change over.
Walking up to the front desk and it's double-paned bullet proof glass, I looked into the small booth out of curiosity. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary but with the beginning tendrils of unease crawling up my spine, I turned on my walkie talkie.
"Doris? Ken? Eddie? Do you read me?"
Static met my query and I waited for a moment of two in tense silence. Repeating my first attempt, my unease became blatant worry as the white noise seemed to scream in the heavy silence. Grimly, I shut off the walkie talkie once more, the sudden quiet ringing in my ears. Without having any other option, I let myself through the next security doors. Not entirely certain as to what I was expecting, I started forward down the long corridor, the silence loud and almost deafening in its entirety.
The late night shift at the Clinic was rather skeleton, with only two health care providers per residency floor and two security personnel per checkpoint. All together, that only made up a crew of about 18 individuals, 19 including Doris. Compared to the day shift with its almost 58 personnel, the building tended to be a rather quiet place at night usually.
Despite it being so sparse, I always ran into at least a handful of people on my way to my office normally. The continued absence of anyone in sight had the hairs on the back of my neck rising and my heart was beginning to pound. Something was not right, I could feel it in the very depth of my being. Breaking out into a cold sweat at the second empty security point, I tentatively opened the second door, my mouth suddenly bone dry.
Once more, silence greeted me as a seemingly abandoned lobby came into view. Wetting my lips nervously, I made my way to the elevator that would take me up to my office on the fourth. Swiping my pass across the sensor, I was bewildered to find the whole thing unresponsive. Swiping my card frantically across the sensor another dozen times yielded the same maddening result. My anxiety was ever rising as I was forced to take the stairs heading up, my hands drifting to the handgun I kept at my waist. Forced to enter the second level of the building, the first residency floor, I cautiously began making my way to the next stairwell.
As I crept down the deserted hallway, I pulled out my piece, a Berretta M9 9mm, raising it parallel to the ground. My heart was galloping in my chest as I slowly made my way forward. Straining my senses, I struggled to pick up any and every sound that may be out of place. I was only about a stones throw away from the second stairwell when a loud thump ripped through the stillness, jolting me and sending my whirling. My arms were shaking as I came face to face with fever bright eyes deep set in a sallow face.
Peering out at me through the small window in the door was a grinning Pierce Bryant. Aged 34 and resident of the clinic for over 12 years, the schizophrenic was known for his relatively mild, almost childlike behavior, but could devolve into extremely aggressive and violent behavior at the drop of a hat. I had had to remind new personnel more than once to not be lulled into a false sense of security around the man before. After all, this was the same man who had slit his sister and two nieces throats because one of his delusions had told him they were really monsters. Shaking with the adrenaline pumping through my system, I slowly lowered my gun and addressed the resident who was now lightly tapping at the glass.
"Pierce, you know you shouldn't be up right now. It's another two hours at least until medication time and breakfast."
Pierce's electric blue eyes only gleamed at me in response as his tapping on the glass became a little closer to knocking. Grinning widely, he started to sing in a warbling falsetto.
"There was a man in our town,
And he was wondrous wise,
He jumped into a bramble bush,
And scratched out both his eyes~!"
Dissolving into a fit of deranged giggles, he started out tapping at the glass once more. Realizing that he must have somehow avoided taking his medication last night and beyond chilled by the eerie exchange, I started slowly backing away but he wasn't finished with me yet it seems.
"Careful now, Mr. Bath, Terry says you better tread softly, softly like a teeny mouse! He says you shouldn't look, no you shouldn't! If your not careful, that quack, he'll take your eyes, pop them out, one, two, just pop pop like a grape! And then he'll hunt you down as you scream and with a Cheshire grin, you'll go quiet, oh yes you will!"
Appalled to find myself so unnerved by the mad ramblings of a man I dealt with nearly every day, I frantically swiped at the next sensor and yanked open the door as Pierce's laughter chased me up the stairs. No longer taking it slowly and determined to make it to my desk to call the police, I charged into the third floor. Housing the most dangerous of our residences, these rooms were sound proof and contained extra security features. Unsurprisingly, no one was in sight and I couldn't even tell at this point if it was silent or not due to the thundering roar of blood in my ears.
I managed to pass through to the final security stairwell door without any distractions and ran up the last flight of stairs. The fourth floor was where all the offices, therapy rooms, and conference hall was located, including my office at the very far end of the building. The fourth floor security booth was vacant and the entire area was cast in unnatural darkness. Shaking frenetically at this point and with my heart in my throat, I crept my way to the closest light fixture. With trembling fingers, I flipped the light switch and the sudden burst of fluorescent lighting blinded me for a few harrowing minutes.
The second my eyes cleared, gun raised and primed, I frantically scanned the three corridors which stretched out on either side of me and to the front. Once again, all I was met with was starkly empty hallways, completely devoid of life. Feeling my heart pick up and my breathing labor in my chest, I slowly made my way down to my office. I looked into each office as I passed through and was relieved to find them all blissfully empty.
Halting in front of office door, the only one that was closed in the entire row of offices, I had to take a minute to gather myself. My focus seemed to sharpen to a lazer sharp edge as I realized that the door was not quite as shut as I had first thought, which sent alarm bells screaming through my head. As the director, my office not only had a security key sensor, but a thumb print and voice recognition security entry as well. Only with all three of those factors was the door supposed to unlock.
With a twitching hand, I lightly pushed open my office door. It was like it waded through molasses as it opened painfully slowly, the resounding creak jarringly loud in the haunting calm. A single beam of light fell into the cavernous room, seeming to be swallowed by the gloom mere steps from the entrance. Almost afraid to even breath, I blindly reached out until my fingers brushed the light fixture. Feeling as if my heart was threatening to break through my rib cage, I flicked on the light.
And then promptly vomited violently on my own shoes. Completely past the point of caring, my legs collapsed out from under me as I sank to the ground like a rock. My breath began sawing in and out of my chest as as I could only stare in complete and all consuming horror at the scene that lay before me. I distantly was aware that I was hyperventilating, my head spinning between lack of oxygen and shock. And then I started screaming. I don't know how long I sat there in my own sick, screaming bloody murder. It could have been five minutes or it could have been hours for all I knew before I snapped back to some resemblance of reality.
~warning of gore starts here~
The whole room was bathed in violent shades of scarlet, crimson, and rust-black. Blood dripped from the bodies hanging from the ceiling fan, which lightly turned, swinging its load in a truly ghastly and horrific dance.. More corpses sat at my couch, propped over my crystal chess board in a disgusting parody of intense concentration. Each throat was torn open in a morbid gaping maw and it only took a moment to notice the gruesome muscle dangling through the opening which earned it its twisted moniker. I had heard of a Columbian Necktie before, but to see it in person was more horrible than I could ever say.
A sudden burst of musical notes drew my attention to the most gruesome site of the morning. A small music box that my daughter had given me last Father's day was tinkling away, a little bear dancing in circles on top. The remains of what used to be Doris Miller, long time colleague and friend, sat prominently at my prized black walnut desk. Taking trembling steps forward, feeling suddenly disconnected with my body, I stopped in front and found myself staring into the gaping holes that used to be her lovely green eyes. Scarlet rivers painted down her cheeks and her mouth was open in a silent scream, agony present in every line of her face. Her once long and wavy black hair was sheared off at her chin and completely missing in some spots, revealing the jagged, cruel marks of a knife. Her neck was as grisly a sight of torn muscle, cartilage, and bone swimming in a veil of black blood, but unlike the others, she had a red string holding a blood splattered envelope. Whether the string was originally red or not was unanswerable at this point.
Seemingly unable to help myself, I lightly tugged the loose bow, now crusted with rust red blood and picked up the small package. I was revolted to realize that what I had assumed was red ink was in fact dried blood. Fighting the urge to gag, I turned my attention to the front of the envelope. In flowing penmenship which bordered on calligraphic, I was startled awake by the writing on the front.
To My Esteemed Mr. Owen Blackbourne and Dr. Sean Greene, come out to play!
Feeling my stomach sink as as the metallic stench of blood coated my nose and mouth, I ripped open the sullied envelope in a frantic, hysterical motion. Pulling out the folded up note, My eyes flew over the disgustingly playful message as I fought to keep fraying control over my nerves.
Girls and boys, come out to play,
The moon bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
And come with your playfellows into the street.
Come with a whoop, come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A half-penny roll with serve us all.
You find milk, and I'll find flour,
And we'll have a pudding in half and hour.
I do hope you both like my little thank you present for the last years stay. I rather quite enjoyed your hospitality, but sadly I must leave it behind. I have a missing doll and two little monsters that need attending to I'm afraid. They must be missing me terribly you see. I really look forward to our next game together. We will have to set up a play date very soon, I think.
Sincerely Yours with Great Admiration,
Dr. Adam Ayers
The letter slipped from my shaking hands to flutter almost delicately to the floor as I rushed to the wastebasket and promptly emptied my stomach once more. It was only after I had recovered from a painful round of dry heaving that I reached for the phone and all I could think as I dialed the police was God help us all.
Dr. Adam Ayers had broken out and was on the warpath once more.
AN: Well there you have it my dear birdies! Things are just going to go downhill from there so buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride!