Chapter One

Something's on my leg...stop! It's biting at my leg, it hurts! Stop! My face hurts, I can't move...where am I? What are you doing to me? Stop, please stop! Oh, my face, quit ripping at my face! SOME ONE HELP ME!!!

The man jumped from his sleep, cold sweat pouring down his face and arms. He had goosebumps all over his body, and he quivered and shook, heaving, trying desperately to get air into his lungs. A young man in a labcoat unlocked the man's cell door and stepped inside, looking at him and gasping loudly as he looked at the man's legs and face. "Oh my God! Somebody get the medics in here now!," exclaimed the young man, rushing toward the patient. "What did you do to yourself this time, Wyatt? You're covered in blood!"

"Blood...?," Wyatt looked down at his legs, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping. A deep red liquid oozed from underneath his blankets and dripped onto the cold, concrete floor, creating a puddle next to his bed. "Those monsters! Those monsters ripped me apart! You've got to help me, please. They'll come after me again, until I'm dead, please!?" He reached for the doctor's arm, but his hands were stained with his own blood. "Those monsters, those monsters...they ripped at me, pulling on me and biting me, please!"

"Wyatt, you need to remain calm. Just lie still!" The doctor glanced sharply at the door as three medics rushed inside with a gurney. "Hurry up, before he loses too much blood!"

Wyatt struggled against the medics as they attempted to lift him. "No, you don't understand! They're waiting for me, please. You've got to help me, help me get away from them, please!"

The doctor looked down at Wyatt with a look of concern on his face. Wyatt then noticed his nametag; J. Smith. "Don't worry, Wyatt," Dr. Smith said calmly, sneaking a needle from his pocket. "You'll be just fine, trust me." He then slid the needle into Wyatt's arm, pushed down the tube, sending the liquid inside into Wyatt's vein, the slowly eased it back out.

Almost instantly, Wyatt could feel the morphine pass through his entire body, easing his muscles and joints. He quieted down slowly, feeling his eyelids sink. "No," he muttered, "they're going to get me now...don't...you...don't you see?"

"Yes, we see, " Dr. Smith said, slipping the needle back into his labcoat pocket. "We see, we see. Nothing is going to get you."

*-----------------------------*

Dr. Smith studied the information on a clip board that was given to him by a nurse. "I don't understand. When he's awake, he's perfectly fine, but these nightmares he has cause him to injure himself-severely, I might add. His CAT scan shows normal brain functioning, as well. What do you think?"

"Well, " the nurse began, "I think that his nightmares are more than just nightmares. He sees things that have actually happened and is experiencing them."

"You're a nurse, not a psychic. You aren't supposed to think like that. I want him under very close surveilance. Cameras, wires, everything, you understand me?"

The nurse nodded and took back the clip board and walked out of the emergency room where Wyatt lay, sleeping, his legs and face bandaged. "I'm going to find out what's wrong with you, Wyatt...unlike that last doctor, Dr. Ward. I won't screw this up, Wyatt."