The dim, spider-web incased lights flickered repetitively as the static of the radio reverberated off the gray, fuzzy walls. Screams of pain and agony were confined behind doors with frosted glass windows and faded names of doctors on the foggy, golden nameplates. My head ached as I attempted to process my exact location. I pulled me legs to my chest, taking notice of the hospital gown I was wearing. A voice of a distressed, young girl rang out, pleading sorrowfully for someone. The name was inescapably clear. ANTUBIS! She shouted once more with a horrified, deafening scream. The annoying static became clear, and "Papercut" penetrated the buzz.
"Why do I feel like night today,
Something in here is not right today
Why am I so uptight today?
Paranoia is all I got left
I don't know what stressed me first,
Or how the pressure was fed but
I know just what it feels like
To have a voice in the back of my head…"
The sound faded and the P.A. system emitted a horrible crackle.
"Dr. Hook to emergency. Dr. Hook to emergency. Stat." The system turning off startled me. Heavy static returned, and became louder than ever. My hands immediately flew up to shelter my assaulted eardrums.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?!" I screamed over the blood rushing in my ears. I circled repeatedly until my knees became fragile and gave way. I slumped against the nearest wall, my clammy hand pressing against my throbbing forehead to alleviate the pain. The floor began to shake, like an earthquake had just occurred. It soon stopped, and I pitched over on my side, shaking violently. My eyes became foggy, and soon there was blackness. I was disturbed and awoken by the swift and stinging kick that rammed at my rib-cage.
I looked up into the hollow eyes of a teenage boy, no older than fifteen. His curly, dark hair was unkempt and misted with dirt and debris. Dark eyes reflected a sense of hatred; large, dark bags emphasizing many sleepless nights. His collar hung placidly over his shirt, which looked yellowed and stained from work or antiquity. Dark, dirty, red suspenders embraced his shoulders like a stiff bow tie on a corpse.
"Get up." He said through pursed lips and wrapped scrawny, dirty fingers around my neck and squeezed. "Get up!" His breath was icy cold and stung my flesh. He loosened his grip slightly to release pressure on his knuckles, and he looked me over, sparing no immodesty.
"Finally, some company that doesn't run to the damned anteater for protection." He paused here, his glare burning holes in my head. "You're a pathetic excuse for a human." He smiled sinisterly to show his sharp, pointed canine teeth. I struggled in his grasp to break free, and his fingers dig into the skin of my shoulders.
"My name is Paul. Welcome to Kingdom Hospital, Short Timer. Sit back and enjoy the anesthesia." Paul threw back his head in a frenzied, maniacal laugh.
"This isn't a goddamn hospital!" I managed to yell.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Paul snickered. "That meddling old hag would prefer the Keepers and the other inhabitants to call this dimension," he said, looking around, "Sweden-Borgian space." His lips curved into a mischievous smile.
All at once, the ground shook and his evil grin disappeared.
"Damn!" He cursed and dragged me into the nearest room. Several doctors and nurses scurried around the room while a panicked surgeon shouted orders.
"Pruning shears and chainsaw, stat!" An RN in the corner of the room shouldered a heavy-duty chainsaw and dragged it over to the surgeon. The chainsaw revved and was lowered onto the body of a drugged, seizing patient. Blood spattered in all directions, staining the white-washed walls and the surgeon's scrubs. The blood was filmy and thick, leaving heavy tracks as it dribbled down the walls.
Paul remained in the door frame, staring at the bloody, pulpy mess, his fingers still tightly wrapped around my bruising wrist. I tried to alleviate the pain, but his grasp tightened and my wrist cracked. I howled at him in agony, but the revving of the chainsaw engine drowned it out. I twisted my wrist around to break free, and did a stomp kick, hitting Paul's shin and coming down on his foot. He cursed and let my wrist go; giving me just enough time to bolt towards the opposite side of the room. Unfortunately for me, Paul was quicker. He stopped me immediately in my tracks. I turned towards the other side of the room, only to run into Paul, crossing his arms and laughing in amusement. He began circling, just like a vulture over a dead carcass.
"Stop circling me, dammit!" I lunged at him, but he caught me and cornered me. He pinned me against the wall, putting all his pressure onto my fragile shoulders.
"You be a nice little girl and cooperate with Paul, okay?" He snarled, showing his flashy canines once again. I swallowed hard as he moved his face closer to mine. My neck burned like hell as his teeth sank in right below my jaw. Warm blood trickled from the two holes that perforated my skin and dribbleded down my shoulder onto my nurse gown. He backed away, licking his lips. I swallowed, the puncture marks gushing fresh, chunky blood.
The door burst open, practically breaking off its rusty hinges. A huge, bear-like creature stood snarling at Paul, it's barbed-like teeth extending from it's pulsating, bleeding gums . With each breath, the body of the animal heaved, ribs extending to make the animal appear larger than it already was. Its black, endless eyes stared at Paul with such intensity that Paul himself backed away, his twitching digits ready at his sides.
A small, pale girl stood gripping the creature's coarse fur. Around her neck hung a rusted bell, gently swaying from side to side above her old, brown jumper. Her hair was a dirty blonde/brown color, framing her face and flowing past her waist. Paul pointed a pale finger at her.
"You!" He breathed. She cowered behind Antubis. Paul shifted slightly and the anteater barked at him in warning.
"Call your possessed, over-sized rodent off, Mary!"
"No!" Her voice timidly bubbled from behind the anteater.
"Can't you see that this one's mine?!" Paul yelled. Mary's little eyes and pale face stared at me. She was graceful; kind, but weak, and obviously using the anteater as protection from Paul. Paul's jaw cracked as he opened it and shifted it from side to side. He glanced at me sideways and winked. Behind his back, he held the soiled chainsaw. Behind us, the surgical scene had become a gruesome massacre. The surgeon's head lulled from his disconnected body and rolled across the floor. Nurses laid sprawled out, their stomachs cut and sliced open, exposing their twisted intestines and spattering blood with every single, weakened heartbeat.
Paul's peals of manic laughter echoed off the dingy tiles. Mary screamed horridly and hid her face in Antubis' thick coat. The huge animal's muscles tensed and it bared its rows of impaling teeth. The silence was broken by the PA system, the voice issuing a notice to Hook.
"Dr. Hook. Emergency in room 818. Code Blue." The large, lumbering animal turned and exited the room, Mary still clinging to his coat, crying with fear.
Paul squinted in concentration.
"Something about that number rings a bell," he said. He gripped my forearm and tugged as he exited the opposite door that we had entered. I sprinted so that Paul wouldn't pull my arm out of its socket. He stopped in front of another frosty glassed door.
Using his fist, he rubbed away the dust and plaque that covered the numbers on the patient nameplate.
"Thought so." Paul smirked. Before I could take a glance, I was catapulted into the room at full force. Where the door used to be, there was now a blank, empty wall. I stared blankly at it, confused. This had to be a dream, I knew it. I would wake up in a few minutes, sweating in my trundle bed at home.
I stared at the patient, convulsing and flailing its arms. Two nurses tried to pin the figure down by binding it's wrists to the safety bars. I tiptoed closer, and then stopped. The patient looked sickly. Loose strands of dark hair stuck to the pillow. Her eyes weren't visible. A cloth embraced them. Burns covered what I saw of her body and scabs broke loose while she thrashed and writhed. Paul moved closer to the bed and began to stroke her face, patches of dry, crispy, charred skin falling like ash to the milky white sheets and pillow.
"Auto accident. Head on collision. 3rd degree burns affecting approximately 85 percent of her body. Shortly after the collision, the eyes were removed from their sockets, probably with a hunk of searing hot metal- a quick indication of targeted murder. The individual that smashed into her must have been a sworn enemy." He rattled this off at a quick pace, skillfully like a doctor fresh out of medical school.
"Look familiar?" Before I could answer and confess to him that I did not know, he untied the cloth and tore it away, revealing the damage. Her face was covered in burns, and the holes where the eyes used to be were grotesquely black and endless. Dry blood caked beneath the gaping pits. I covered my mouth in sheer terror and disgust when I realized that the badly damaged body was that of my own. I lifted my hand to backhand Paul, but he caught it in mid-air, and held fast.
"I'd watch out if I were you. You never know what damage I could do." He breathed as he clenched his jaw.
Footsteps were heard outside the entrance. Again, I was shoved through the bare wall and back into Sweden-Borgian space. A headless body of a man shuffled past us, tripping on his own two feet. Paul paid no attention and continued on down the endless hallway, dragging me behind him. We walked for a long distance and stopped at a hallowed, eerie elevator shaft leading down into the hospital's dark bowels.