AN- HUGE APOLOGIES the first submission of this story was a draft copy rather than the finished document; this was done in error and I did not have time to check the chapter after its submission on the internet as I would have usually done. I hope this hasn't caused too much annoyance. Here's the full chapter please enjoy, S.S. x.

The diary of Doctor Rachel Trombley

Friday the 13th January 200-

I was awoken this morning by Mr. Firth, telling me of a number of casualties arriving at the base after another of Dr. Winchester's 'expeditions'. The carnage that I discovered once I had donned my white coat and other medical garb both disturbed and shocked me more than I have been accustomed to.

I spent the rest of the day dealing with the two dozen patients that had come into my care all at once and once free of my duties I sought out Dr. Winchester to enquire as to both how and why these people had been injured. I found him in his office, which since the last time I had entered it he had been decorated in an imitation of his study at home; I assume this is just another excuse for him not to go home and instead work all night. When I confronted him he made a passing comment on the number of fatalities (which I noted to be seven) and then went on to rant about how his "endeavour" had been a success; the contemptible man! How arrogant and ignorant he is, I grow to dislike him more each day; if it wasn't for the groundbreaking research that this facility does I would resign today. I can only hope that this new 'project' he speaks of will bring me the pride and achievement I sought when I entered this career.

Dr. Winchesters' Receptionist

The midday sun shone in through the widows in the front reception of 'Dr. H.A. Winchesters' institute for research into the paranormal and parapsychology'. The short plump receptionist sat behind her wooden desk in her tight, tweed suit tapping her pencil against the computer keyboard in boredom. She looked out from behind her thick rimmed glasses at the young girl who stared out of the window with a far off expression on her face; her fingers twisting the sleeves of her wool neon cardigan nervously. She seemed agitated and this strange performance had recently become a normal show for the receptionist. Soon Dr. Winchester would come bursting through the electronically locked doors and rush through the reception to the girl, shaking her hand and greeting her with enthusiasm and then dragging her through the doors again; the beeps of them opening and closing only seconds apart.

The girl's eyes suddenly met with the receptionist's, she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, the piercing gaze making her feel strange. The girl walked over to the front desk, picked up a pen and a piece of stationary paper and began to scribble something down. She then folded the piece of paper in half and looked back into the receptionists' eyes.

The doors beeped and Dr. Winchester came rushing through them; his grey scruffy hair bouncing up and down with every stride. The girl turned to face him and shook his hand as always, but before allowing herself to be led away slipped the piece of paper into the receptionist's hand.

The two figures disappeared through the heavy metal doors and the electrical beep sounded out. The receptionist unfolded the paper and slipped her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and into the correct position. Her eyes traced over the messy handwriting making out the words of the private note. The receptionists' hand began to shake and her jaw dropped slightly. 'How could she know' the receptionist thought beginning to shake more violently.

The note from Rachel Langan to Polly Fanshawe: Dr. Winchesters' receptionist

"You're father still comes into your' room at night, those sensations are not just your imagination."

The 7th meeting with Dr. Winchester

He'd seemed madly enthusiastic as always when I'd called him at 4:30 in the morning even though it was several hours earlier or later than I usually did. I took his excitement over my abilities as an innocence or naivety that had lived in him since he was a boy; when his grandmother had visited him in his sick bed three years after she had died. I had no reason to doubt him or to go snooping around in his mind to see what it was that he wanted; after all he was the man who saved me, who believed me when no one else did.

"Tell me then, tell me!" He demanded sitting on the edge of his desk so he could speak with me without the large oak desk becoming a barrier between us.

I sighed and rubbed the skin beneath my eyes; I hadn't slept a full night in years but this new sleeping pattern was taking its toll; he saw and passed me his cup of coffee, I declined silently, agitated by the fact he hadn't remembered how much I detested it, even though I told him almost every meeting. I sat back in the comfy armchair that sunk low and made me look even more dwarfed then I usually did being only 5 ft 3.

"Well," I began, "It's hard to distinguish the beginning of the dream exactly but I think it began in a darkened room, there was a strange red glow and I could smell… Antiseptic or some sort of sterilising agent like a doctors or dentists surgery. I felt pain all over really but mostly in my eye and when I looked down at my body it was like I was wearing a suit made out of skin, patchwork skin like the Frankenstein monster and then I was slipping, falling away.

I was in a brighter room now a colder one and I could smell soap and I think I heard my own voice echo out but I can't be sure… Then the pain again but different this time, short, sharp stabs of pain all over my skin but there was such relief in it… No fear really just anger, my own anger. And then I started falling again into water this time and redness. Then I woke up." I sighed and sat back up engaging him again, I didn't like to make eye contact when recounting my 'visions'.

"And what do you make of this my dear?" He said smoothly, contently; like he already knew the answer.

His grey and bushy eyebrows had met in the middle of his forehead making his gentle face seem stern and cold.

"Suicide, it was definitely a suicide." I said confidently "I could feel such contempt; for myself. I mean the whole Frankenstein suit was definitely something to do with body dimorphic disorder."

He began to chuckle quietly,

"You're starting to sound like one of my Psychiatrists." He said shaking his head.

"Well they tried to label me with it at one point if you recall…" I said shaking my head also.

"Yes, along with Psychosis and Schizophrenia, Autism…" he said disgustedly.

"I've seen so many psychiatrists and heard so many psychological theories I should be qualified." He nodded and chuckled some more. He stopped, his cheery disposition changing to that of stern seriousness; I knew where this was going. He would want to test my abilities; a name, a location or a summoning.

"Well, I couldn't point out a place on a map but I think I could take you there, you know just start walking, follow my feet till I get there."

"Brilliant!" He said jumping up.

"What? You want me to take you there? To where she is, the ghost I mean?" He nodded and started to get his things in order.

"You realise we're not talking about your average Casper the friendly ghost here? No way, I get a definite sense that this is a fully fledged malevolent spirit."

"And now, Miss Langan" He said grumpily, "You sound like my parapsychologists and paranormal investigators."

"Rik" I said correcting him, Rachel was the name my mother had given me and I rejected anything to do with her. "And I thought you were a paranormal investigator Dr. Winchester." I said frowning at his contempt for his own profession.

"Rachel," He looked deeply into my eyes, his tone serious and sincere,

"We're both aware that you and I are a cut above your' average 'ghost hunter', we're visionaries and dreamers, not a suit and a title sitting behind desks and making silly theories and estimations."

"Rik." I said, wishing he wouldn't be so formal with me, "well fine, alright but not now, I'm exhausted and I'm sure you don't want me to drive you anywhere; or you might whined up a ghost yourself." He sighed and sat back down smoothing out some paper work and pushing it out of sight; he began to nod.

"All right, later then, you get some sleep, you can sleep in one of the residential rooms we have here." He dialled for his receptionist and asked her to make ready a room; she appeared shortly afterwards and escorted me out of his office and along the many white washed hallways till we entered the more 'homely' part of the vicinity. The halls of residence was home mostly to students and retired members who had requested to live amongst their beloved work; of course it was often used by employees who were either on call or just too tired to go home. Dr. Winchester had often pleaded with me to move into the vicinities residence so that I could be 'safe' as he called it, more likely on tap 24/7. I didn't mind so much that he was using my abilities to further his knowledge; after all it was better than being told I was insane.

There was a pair of silk pyjamas waiting for me on the bed but I decided not to wear them and instead kicked off my boots and crawled under the covers in my tatty jeans and jacket. The room was quiet, unusually quiet to me but I guessed a place as sterilised as that was an unlikely place for a ghost to haunt; despite this the moment I closed my eyes images of violence and unrest filled my head; worse than ever before.

The diary of Doctor Rachel Trombley

Friday the 20th January 200-

It is one week since my last encounter with Dr. Winchester and finally he broke his 'quiet' period and I heard at about 10:30 am that he was arranging another endeavour of the same manner as the one I spoke of previously. On hearing this I decided to seek him out and challenge his motives and plea for him not to put the lives of the employees at risk. He assured me that the risk was minimal and necessary for the achievement of his goal and further, that the employees involved were aware of the possible danger that was involved in the job. I was just about to protest my points further when he suggested that I attend the outing and judge for myself. I was at least surprised by this proposal; after all paramedics are a standard assignment, so why would a physician be necessary? Plus I had rarely worked along side Dr. Winchester since I was first employed by him when I was a still classed as a 'young genius', three days after I had turned fifteen.

I did however agree to go along, for educational purposes if nothing else. We were joined by girl about my age, or early twenties at least; I deduced she must have been a psychic as Dr. Winchester continuously enquired as to "what she felt" or "what she saw" when the room around them was as in plain view to him as her. The events that ensued were phenomenal, of the kind of I was aware of yet did not have a regular experience of. The location, which I am not at liberty to disclose, seemed to be haunted by a spectre of some kind; we witnessed flickering lights, sounds without source, the movement of objects and we recorded EVP, and light anomalies; all common of hauntings. I was however surprised to find that this seemed to be the only purpose of the expedition; I couldn't understand it, we have libraries full of recordings of this manner, why collect more?

I couldn't help but speculate whether Dr. Winchester had held back on fulfilling his true intentions of the mission to appease me, although he's not answerable to me so why should he? Curious.

Transcript of a Recorded interview with Dr. Pam Stanford and patient: Rachel Langan. 1st July 198-

Dr. S-Good afternoon Rachel. How are we today?

R.L- Well you know, much the same.

Dr. S- Have you had any more dreams since our last chat?

R.L- Of course, there's no such thing as dreamless sleep (beat) even if we don't remember it.

Dr. S- That's not what I mean Rachel; I'm talking about the bad dreams (beat) the 'visions'.

R.L- Perhaps. (Beat) Why? Want to psycho- analyse them?

Dr. S- Now Rachel, I'm not the enemy, I'm not trying to aggravate you. (Beat) Why don't you tell me about them? (Beat) It might make you feel better?

R.L- How exactly? (Beat) Look I don't (beat) I don't feel like doing this today. I'm tired.

Dr. S- Have you had trouble sleeping again Rachel?

R.L- Yes.

Dr. S- Would you like me to up the dosage of you sleeping pills? I can do that for you, but remember Rachel the higher we make the dose the more likely you are to become immune to the medication all together.

R.L- No, no more meds (beat) I hate all these pills. (Beat) I feel like a pharmacy all this medication in me. And none of it works.
Dr. S- Rachel we're only trying to make you better. I want to help you feel better, then you can go home (beat) Uh we can find you a home.

R.L- Stop that.

Dr. S- Stop what Rachel?

R.L- That! (Beat) Stop saying "Rachel" I know what my name is for Christ's sake.

Dr. S- Now Rachel there's no need to become aggressive.

R.L- You're still doing it!

Dr. S- Calm down Rachel.

R.L- (frustrated groan)

The sound of wood cracking.

Dr. S- Dear lord! (Beat) Uh, for the recording (beat) the- the table within the interview room has just- Just cra- splintered. (Beat) This is not related to the interview.

R.L- Can I go now?

Dr. S- uh (beat) Yes. (Beat) Interview terminated.