Chapter 3 is up! enjoy!
They had been hiding in lockers for more than half an hour. Every time they thought it was clear to come out, the sound of the saw would go off nearby and they'd jump back in. This man wanted to eat them, and Clair guessed it wasn't in the fancy Hannibal Lecter way.
"Do you think it's safe now?" Clair whispered.
"Safe? No. It's never going to be safe here. But we can't stay in these lockers forever." Waylon said, stepping out of his hiding place. Clair followed his lead, careful not to make any noise. The two went in the opposite direction of the saw noises and soon encountered a large kitchen. Waylon lingered in the doorway, the camera close to his face as he tried to look inside.
"I can't really see much from here – I'm going to go ahead. Just wait till I come back." He said. Clair was about to protest, to suggest it was probably a horrible idea for them to split up, but he had already moved into the darkness. It was uncomfortably quiet then, and Clair did her best not to start humming to fill the silence.
"You smell so good." A voice behind her whispered, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end. "You're much more delicate then the others – you're going to be delicious."
Before she really knew what was happening the man gripped her shoulder and pushed her back in the direction she'd come in before. The force sent her to the ground, her head bouncing off the floor causing her vision to explode with white orbs. From what she could see, the man was tall and skinny with crude cuts up the center of his chest, and he sported nothing but a pair of blood covered underwear.
"You're mine!" He roared, the saw in his hand now whirring furiously. Clair crawled back on her elbows as best she could, but the cannibal was on top of her before she could get very far. He swung the saw at her head and the blades sliced her cheek as she turned from the attack.
"WAYLON!" She cried. She was going to die – going to be eaten. The man pulled the saw up again to try for another blow, but Clair got her legs situated under his stomach and flung him back. By the time he regained his footing, she was already half way down the hall. The lockers, she had to get back there and hide. Clair swung open the first door to her left and bolted in, only to freeze there in horror. She was in the wrong room. The lockers had been to her right, not left. Clair spun around to see the cannibal standing in the doorway, pure hunger engraved in his face.
"So tender." He said while salivating profusely and taking a step towards her. "So sweet."
Clair probably would have been done for, if something further down the hall hadn't caught his attention. The man looked panicked for a moment, then angry.
"Fuck!" He shouted, his eyes boring into her skull. "I'll be back for you. You're mine! Mine!" He hesitated for only another moment, then darted out of the room.
Thank. God. Clair felt her whole body tingle and she slowly knelt to the floor. Waylon must have finally picked up a weapon and come to get her – about fucking time. She was ready to move towards the door when the sound of absurdly loud footsteps echoed down the hall. Clair slowly moved behind an oak desk in the office and peered out from under it. A man, if she could really call it that, passed in front of the door. He was probably over 7 feet, and it almost looked like his nose and lips had been completely torn off.
"I thought I heard a little piggy." He said, his voice deep and rough. Clair instinctively cupped her hands over her mouth, not wanting him to somehow hear her slight breathing. The giant fortunately didn't stick around long, and continued past her room. Clair stayed quite for a while, her body curled in a fetal position under the desk. Where was Waylon? She needed to go and find him, she promised him that she would. It took her several tries and a lot of will power to get her limbs working again. She stumbled over to the door and poked her head out, and a wave of relief rushed over her.
"Waylon – did you see it?" She asked as he walked towards her.
"You mean the giant? Yeah. I was hiding in the broken fridge while he was walking around. I think he went the other way though – so we should be alright." Waylon looked into the room Clair was still currently in, and a smile played at his lips.
"This is a doctor's office – they could have a card key in here!" He quickly placed his camera on the desk and started to go through the drawers.
Clair thought about rummaging through the desk with him, but she had no idea what she would be looking for. It was better to just let him do his work. Her eyes then wandered to what was on top of the desk and her eyebrows raised in interest. A single manila folder with the red letters classified stamped on the top. Clair picked it up and flipped it open, reading its contents out loud.
"Eddie Gluskin," She began, "case number 196, age 46, and he was admitted to Mount Massive Asylum on Valentine's day." Clair heard Waylon stop suddenly, and he peered up from the drawer he currently had open to look at her.
"Gluskin?" He said. "Poor bastard. I saw him getting put into the engine right before all of this went down – must be why the file is out of the desk like this." Waylon turned his attention back to the desk, and Clair looked down at the file. She started to read the rest silently, her stomach twisting at his past childhood abuse, then it knotting even more when she got to his victims. Clair threw the file back down on rubbed her arms, suddenly finding herself very cold.
"Are all the patients here this deranged? We have a guy trying to eat us, a mountain walking around looking for pigs, and now a man who mutilates women." She said, a hint of disgust in her voice.
"Unfortunately, yes." He replied, stepping back from the desk with a sigh of defeat. "There aren't any key cards here. Fuck."
The two glanced around the room now, both at a loss as to what to do next. Clair's gaze fell on the window behind Waylon and her face bloomed into a smile.
"That window – it's doesn't have the wires on it like the other's do, think we can get out?"
Waylon turned to where she was indicating then pushed a chair over to the small window. He nosily opened it and poked his head out, a grin on his lips when he pulled back in.
"It's a bit of a fall, but better than being in here. We just need to get across this small section of courtyard, then we can get in through one of the art room windows. The exit should be close by."
Waylon helped Clair up to the window edge and she only paused for a second to look down before jumping. Out of everything she'd been through today, falling a couple of feet was a walk in the park. She landed on the grass with a thud and let out a hiss of pain. Her knee had slid across the ground where she landed, leaving a small gash behind. Waylon landed next to her, a rush of air leaving his mouth when he hit.
They rushed over to the next building unmolested, and found a door that had actually been bent. Clair was happy they didn't need to figure out how to reach the high bared windows. Waylon squeezed through the opening first, his shirt clinging and ripping on the metal as he went inside. Clair then did the same, only she had it much easier - being barely over five feet and a hundred pounds soaking wet had some advantages. They followed the stairs up till they reached what looked like a sewing room. Fabric was strewn on the floor and packed away in shelves, most of which looked unused, but it may have just been due to all the dust.
Waylon slipped between two sewing machine tables to get to the next door. He gripped the handle tightly and gave it a good shake, but it was locked. As he pulled away from the door, a man's face peered through the small rectangular window.
"Darling!" The man exclaimed, a smile stretching ear to ear. Waylon jerked back, horrified, before quickly ducking under one of the tables and motioning for Clair to follow him.
"Did I scare you? I'm awfully sorry, I didn't mean to." The patient said, his voice sounding smooth, but slightly hindered by a lisp.
"We've met before, haven't we?" He said, his voice starting to sound closer. "I know I've seen your face."
The patient now stood in front of their hiding place, and what they could see of him turned as he looked around, searching. He then continued further into the room, his pace slow and deliberate.
"Maybe, just before I woke up." The man said. Waylon started to inch out from under the table, his camera glued to his face.
"When I run, he's going to look in my direction. You try and go the other way and we'll meet up later." Waylon whispered, then bolted from the table.
"No!" Clair hissed out in a hushed voice, her hand reaching to try and catch him – but he was already gone. The patient's head snapped in the direction that Waylon ran, and he quickened his pace to go after him. Clair took the opportunity to turn herself around and face the door they'd originally seen him standing in. She was about to crawl out when a large hand gripped her leg and dragged her out from under the table.
At first, he was smiling, but once he leaned in and got a better look at her, he seemed more confused than anything else.
"You're not the one I saw through the window." He said, pulling her closer to him by her leg. "But look at you. Already perfect. No surgery needed! How wonderful! You're going to be the perfect bride, darling, and we're going to have the most perfect babies."
A pang of horror swept through Clair's body and she shook her leg violently to get it out of his grasp. He was leaning down to pick her up, telling her that she didn't need to play hard to get anymore, when she kicked him in the jaw. The man chucked her across the floor and she immediately scrambled to get to her feet.
"Fucking whore!" He bellowed, his voice dripping with rage. Clair was already running, but she knew he'd be close behind. As she turned a corner to move down another hallway, the patient grabbed onto her hair and threw her back onto the ground, her bun coming undone in the process.
"I just wanted you to have my children!" He yelled, "But what kind of mother would you be, you slut?"
Clair had dragged herself over to one of the corners and sat there shivering, his words triggering something inside of her she thought she'd never have to endure again. She'd killed him. This was supposed to be over.
"Please, oh please no!" She begged, but he continued to advance towards her, a knife clutched firmly in his hand. "I don't want to die! Please!"
He was practically on top of her now, his hand resting above her head for support as he pulled back the knife. When Clair looked up, it wasn't the patient, it was Mark.
"I didn't want you to hurt them!" She screamed out, her body shaking with fear. She wasn't talking to the man anymore. "I didn't want you to hurt my children. I couldn't let you hurt my baby – I did what I had to do!" She started to sob now, tears flowing down her face and dripping off her chin. Clair vaguely noticed the man's demeanor change, and he placed the knife down by his side.
"Oh Darling." He said affectionately and placed both of his hands on her face to turn her head to his. "I would never, ever, do anything to hurt our babies. Nor would I let anyone else harm them either. You understand that, don't you sweetheart? I want to be the father I never had."
The patient sat on the floor and pulled her into his arms, causing Clair to sob more with fear and frustration. Clair had no idea how to respond to him, so she just continued to cry, her face now stuffed against his chest. Every touch, every slight caress of her back made her flinch with disgust. Mark wasn't supposed to be able to touch her again.
"Hush now my love. No need to cry anymore." He pulled her away from him and brushed the tears away gently with his thumb. "I understand why you ran now darling, you just wanted to protect your babies – but you know better now, I forgive you."
Clair started to calm down, her breathing slowed as she scanned the man's face, realizing that it wasn't her husband. He looked horrible – there seemed to be sores or an allergic reaction up the side of his face. If it weren't for that, he actually might have been handsome. The patient lifted Clair off the ground and held her in his arms bridal style. She wanted to try and squirm, move from his grip and go find Waylon, but she just couldn't budge. Her body wasn't responding to her anymore.
"Now, we need to go get you ready darling – or should I say the soon to be Mrs. Gluskin? You're going to love your dress."
Clair's brow furrowed at his last remark, and her eyes widened with realization. Gluskin? Eddie Gluskin? Images of the mutilated women in his file swirled through her mind and she thought she was going to puke all over him. If Clair ever thought she was getting out of this asylum, all hopes of that were gone now. As Eddie started to hum Clair's world went black.