Chapter 1: Snow and Therapist

October 31st, 1996

Damien was sitting across the table from Clarke, one of the doctors, in the psych ward of what is known as the Brimstone Asylum; a facility to be only found in the country-side community of Brimstone.

Clarke wore the same white uniform as the other employees while Damien was dressed in a while t-shirt and faded pants. In that place, you were either dressed like a doctor or a patient, unless you were a visitor of course. Damien was a patient, so he was dressed like one.

Damien was not focusing on Clarke; his attention was diverted as he gazed to another figure in the room. He was experiencing another dose of his hallucinations that involved Sarah. It looked just like her; the hallucination had her unique blond hair and blue eyes, it wore her clothes, and it spoke with her voice.

He could feel the sweat trickling on his face upon seeing her ghost. Sadness over came him and remained silent at seeing her. She was one of the very few good things Damien had in his life, and now, she was gone from this world and he was all alone.

"Damien," the ghost of Sarah called out to him.

The wraith of his past mocked Damien and the memory of his girlfriend. He was restrained by the straight jacket on him and was unable to do anything about it. This pissed him off even more.

He continued to listen to the ghost's words, against his will. Closing his eyes and telling, himself, it was not real felt pointless, as he had tried before with the other hallucinations, and plugging his ears was not an option.

"Damien, why are you just sitting there? Where's our daughter? Why did you abandon me?"

The questions were from the guilt of his conscience, except for the last one, it was a lie. He would never abandon her, Damien loved Sarah more than any other girlfriend he has ever had; she was the one of the first friends he ever had after moving to Tall Oaks and the mother of his child. But he did feel like it was his fault she died.

Clarke snapped Damien from the grip of the psychotic episode he was having; snapping his fingers inches from the face. "Damien; Damien wake up!"

Suddenly, Damien felt his eyes opening, realizing that he was not hallucinating, but rather he was sleeping in a nightmare. It was like going through sleep paralysis. Every time Damien thought the nightmare had ended and he was awake, only to realize he was not, a voice told him to wake up and he realized the current reality he was in was in fact another dream.

The last one Damien had, before forcing himself to wake up for real, was of Sarah standing on the table by all four and roaring at him like a monster, like the ones from the ship. Then finally it was over and he was back to sitting only across from Clarke and no one else.

"You were drifting away for a second there, Mr. Snow." The doctor said to the patient. "I believe you were ready to answer my question."

Strangely, Damien had problems remembering the question and quickly asked "Could you please repeat the question?"

Ever the self-entitles prick, doctor Clarke sighs in annoyance before saying plainly and at a moderate pace "Please state your name and date of birth for the record. I would also like you to tell me where you are now and what year is it."

Damien sighed, himself, for a moment. For the past days his waking dreams and nightmares have kept him up all hours of the night. All of them involving Sarah, and all of them terrified Damien, giving him a chill to the bone. It made it hard for him to focus and stay awake, but finally forced the focus, and says "My name in Damien H. Snow, born in Tall Oaks during the ides of March in 1978. As for here, I can't say what room this is; just that it's the Brimstone Asylum; and the year is 1996."

"Good, patient is coherent." Clarke says, while writing on a clip board.

Clarke had the propensity to be a very pious man. He spoke of wanting nothing than to help his unwell patients, but he deprived them of even the most sensible freedoms. Drugs were given to them all, they were only effective on a daily basis, and when the doctor never had his way he deprived the medication and made them suffer through their psychotic episodes or put them in solitary confinement for no reason.

Damien was no saint either; having a history of being cynic back in those days. He was however a far better person than Clarke could ever be. Quite the conundrum actually; Damien was indeed a cynic, fowl mouthed, sarcastic, distrustful to almost anyone except for his friends and family, and always deflecting emotions with humor that could make you wonder if he was a sociopath. But you always knew where you stood with him.

Finally the doctor looked back up from the clip board as he put the pen away "Now, Mr. Snow. You've been complaining about some hallucinations and waking dreams."

"Yeah, I have." He confirmed the doctor's claims while rubbing his forehead.

He told him about the Nightmares, and about Sarah; and as Damien did this, he began to wonder: is this real or just another dream?
The question ate at him like a parasite.

Was there truly anyway to tell whether it was real or not? He distrusted all in his life that never proved they were trust worthy, so why should reality be any different. The only ones he ever trusted were his older brothers, especially James, and his girlfriend, Sarah; or his few friends in Tall Oaks. Those not in the category were not trusted.

"These dreams and delusions of yours, Snow. They are simply a manifestation of the tremendous guilt you feel about what happened on the Charon." Clarke would say. His opinion on the matter meant little to Damien, but he knew Clarke was right.

Snow repeated it once, like a soldier saying the name of a place where hundreds of good men died "The Charon,"

The S.S. Charon, god it had been so long since anyone mentioned it. Nine months before Damien had been on it, and then he was put in the Asylum not along after. Umbrella, the international corporation, they had hired him and his girlfriend to help James with security; no one but the three of them made it off alive, just barely. It was a hellish of a cruise, and Damien, he was one of the few damned souls to find his way off.

"I see that hell every time I close my eyes." Damien said. Any doubts he had about this being real was gone, the mention of Charon was enough to convince him that he had been brought back down to earth.

"Hell… that's right. In the reports you often called it a hell on earth, filled with monsters and devils that tore men limb from limb." Dr. Clarke said. Damien watched while Clarke puts the board away in his bag.

Clarke watched while Damien continued to move his eyes around the room with an emotional gaze.

"What happened to you onboard the Charon!?" Clarke asked, obviously faking some concern, and still talking with that same cadence all doctors use when speaking with their patients.

Damien was not sure himself how to describe it; in fact he could barely remember it, as his mind blocked it from the view into his memory. "I don't know much. I remember getting on the boat; I don't remember getting off; all I remember was Sarah telling me she was pregnant, James and Sarah pulled me up by the arms and helped me off, and a few faint images of monsters with claws and fangs. There was also a lot of blood, but that's all I remember clearly."

"And that's all you remember?" Clarke asked cynically. Damien was not sure himself, but every time he wondered he would just close his eyes and think of the Ship, Charon, and of the memories leading to him getting on the boat. After that, images of blood and claws came with a blood curdling scream that haunt his nightmares.

Damien could only shake his head in an attempt to shake of the distant images before he said anything "All I can remember are those that I've told you about, but if I ever wanted to question it I close my eyes and try to force the memory and it comes back with images you'd expect to see in a horror movie; and the Alien kind of horror movie, not the Friday the 13th or Nightmare on Elm street kind of movie."

Clarke sniggered at the movie references, humored by them. Damien grew up watching those after sneaking into the theaters or stealing the money to pay for a ticket. It was all in his personal file.

Putting a recent picture up of his brother and one of girlfriend, when she was still alive, Clarke asked "Is this your older brother, James Snow and your girlfriend Sarah Marshal?" without hesitation Damien responded with a head nod before finally saying "Yes."

"Very good, you recognize them." Clarke would say before taking the pictures away. "Though, I'm saddened to tell you this, Mr. Snow; Sarah Marshal died a month ago."

"I know," Damien blurted out. He swiftly brushed off Clarke false empathy, and did not bother to express the sadness; all he did was maintain his composure.

Clarke had expected him to break down crying or something; to be crying his eyes out, nothing like Damien was now, and to be emotionally broken. Instead he treated it like old news and was doing his best not to think about.

"Are you aware of how Marshal died?" Clarke asked. "You've only had one constant visitor since you arrived, was that how you found out?"

"Well those are entirely two different questions." Damien responded. Then Clarke replied "Answer either one. I'm flexible."

Damien sighed once more, this time in annoyance, and tapped his fingers inside the straight jacket. He had grown tired of this conversation and was starting to wish it was just another dream; a boring dream too. "James came to me eight months after I was checked into this Asylum, and he told me how Sarah was in the hospital and that she died giving birth to our daughter."

"How did that make you feel?"

The question was the kind of stereotypical set of words expected to be heard when someone was mocking a therapist. 'How did it make me feel?' Damien thought to himself while irritated by the question. "Like someone slammed me into a brick wall," he joked.

Suddenly the interview was interrupted by a man walking into the room. He wore some kind of logo that was hard to make out. Clarke shared whispers with him before a nurse walked in. Then Clarke looked back to Damien.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Snow. It seems our time is past."

And with that Damien was out cold with a quick syringe insertion to the side of his neck. He was falling fast asleep as Clarke left the room and he was being taken back to his room.