Italics: Thoughts

Prologue

"They found the guy naked and covered in a bloody white sheet. Looked like he went through a fucking slaughterhouse. I've never heard or seen anything like that."

"They're calling him John Doe, right?"

"Yeah, he was unconscious when they brought him in. They didn't find a wallet on him. I've seen some shit in this hospital, but this is beyond fucked up. I don't even know how he's even alive. Guy looks like the walking dead with that pale skin. He didn't even seem like he had a heartbeat when we checked him."

"Maybe when he wakes up, he'll remember his name or whatever."

"That's if he does. Hell, he might die in the middle of the night. He's a walking corpse."

"What makes you say that? "

"Like you said, he doesn't have a heartbeat. It ust makes this shit creepier. Even worse, it wasn't easy for the guys to get him in here."

"…You're right… it does."

"Heard the nurses up on the fourth floor nearly passed out."

"From the blood or that he was fucking naked?"

"Probably both, man. The guy's pretty attractive...like from a playboy magazine."

"Yeah, he's attractive alright. The guy even had blood around his fucking mouth. That's just as fucked up as the blood on him. And get this— it wasn't even his blood."

"Are you serious?"

"I fucking swear on my dead ma. Between these women getting murdered and this shit, something weird is going on around here."

"No kidding. The mayor's freaking out over the murders along with everybody else. Hell, he's probably freaking out over John Doe right now."

.

Evergreen Hospital

.

The elevator reached its destination.

She shouldn't be up here.

Her shift was over, and yet she found herself drawn to the John Doe that was brought in minutes ago. Between the conversation she heard from the paramedics and the rumors circulating around the rest of the hospital, he was an enigma. The police were still investigating; however, they couldn't determine whether he was a victim or a suspect. For the time being, they had police stationed for the night in case he regained consciousness.

It was midnight, when the ambulance reached Evergreen Hospital. Downtown Illinois was known for strange crimes, but lately there had been a string of murders involving women. They were naked, with their throats slit, drained of blood.

She heard the news every night she came home from work.

She only knew what was reported; not even her brother could give her details beyond speculating reporters. He was the chief of police at the Illinois Police Department, burdened with the stressful task of keeping the media from spreading pandemonium throughout the city.

From rumors of the occult and satanic worshipers, there were theories as to why the women were murdered. For each victim, they were dumped in secluded locations until their bodies decayed. The police identified each one, but the painstaking task of contacting the families was too much for some of the officers on the force.

They resigned soon after.

She remembered the first case.

The woman was in her early thirties and was planning to go through medical school. She was waiting tables to make ends meet. One day, she was taking the bus home after another late-night shift. The next day, she was missing. Within weeks, the cases began to pile up until it was determined that at least two hundred women were murdered over the span of four months.

The cases alone forced her to carry a pocketknife and pepper spray during a late-night shift. The women in the hospital even started a carpool so everyone reached their home safely.

Even then, she didn't think it was enough.

"Let me know when you're working late so I can pick you up." Her brother warned.

He never kept his promise.

He was too preoccupied with the media and the case to take her home.

Instead, she joined the carpool or called her friends Jill and Rebecca to pick her up. Tonight, however she decided to call Jill to pick her up. She was supposed to be waiting downstairs but decided that peeking at the man wouldn't hurt. Two police officers were stationed at the room for the night, in case the John Doe woke up. Even then, she didn't think they would be stationary for the entire shift without getting coffee or a bathroom break.

Drawing a deep breath, she emerged from the elevator.

Placing him on the last floor was a priority because of his condition and the police wanted to question him.

Darkness enveloped the hallway, apart from the usual nightlights. Each floor was composed of aqua-white paint and mahogany doors that led to the rooms. The corridors were huge; a far cry from the small hospital she used to work in before getting her break here.

John Doe was in room four thirty-seven, hooked to various machines. Doctors tending to him were convinced there was a medical condition that explained the near, non-existent heartbeat.

How could someone be alive without a normal heartbeat…?

It was something she couldn't answer.

After two turns down the long corridors and through the double doors, she leaned against the wall before making the turn where the room was located.

She peeked out around the corner.

The officers weren't in the hallway.

That's…strange.

Following the room numbers wasn't difficult. The last two corridors contained numbers that were in the tens and twenties. The one she was about to enter was in the thirties.

She didn't know the nurses that worked up here and avoided the guest desk by going to the elevator that placed her in the middle of the hallway.

The silence and darkened sections of the hallway was unnerving. There were a few patients in the rooms she passed by, but they were in sleep induced comas, due to severe injuries or illness.

It wasn't the first time she was on the fourth floor.

Her fingers were trembling, but she didn't know why. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to calm down.

Stop with the paranoia. You've worked late night shifts before. Everything is fine. You're just going to look inside and see what the big fuss is about with this guy—

She never finished her thought.

A body flew across the hallway and slammed into the wall, coming from an opened doorway. Blood splattered against the surface, leaving a trail of gore. It took everything in her not to scream, let alone react to the unnatural scene before her.

She recognized the body as an officer, with the standard dark blue IPD police uniform with black pants and polished shoes. He was a portly man, with thinning dark hair.

Her heart thundered against her chest.

What…what was that…?

A tall figure emerged from the room; fingers wrapped around the throat of another officer, but he was lankier, around the same height as the first officer that was killed. It didn't take her long to realize that it was the room John Doe was in. She remembered the description from the paramedic's conversation—shoulder length brown hair and pale skin.

Dried blood was caked around his torso and mouth. A clean white sheet was wrapped around his waist.

The officer was dangling inches from the white marble floor, prying at the fingers that held him. He was begging for his life in choked gasps of air, but the figure spoke in a language she didn't recognize; a deep, guttural tone that filled her with dread.

Within seconds, the officer was dead, his neck twisted until she heard the bones snap.

His body was tossed aside, just like his partner.

Staying here was suicide.

Two officers were dead, and she would be the next victim if she didn't escape.

She tried pulling away, but the figure turned in her direction, as if he knew someone else was in the hallway.

Crimson, serpentine eyes bore into her frightened ones.

Deliberate steps were made, stalking towards her.

Her legs were rubber; useless to the point she felt like she was in a trance.

Move…goddamnit, move…!

She thought of the all the horror films she watched growing up, along with Chris, refusing to believe the reality of the situation before her.

She didn't see two officers die in unexplained ways.

She didn't see a man…no a monster approaching her, covered in blood and wearing a hospital sheet around his waist.

Somehow, disbelief gave way to strength. Tearing away from the wall, she ran, but it was already too late.

In seconds, she faced the monster.

Calloused fingers wrapped around strands of auburn hair. He stared down at her with as much coldness at the officers he mercilessly slaughtered.

"I didn't…see anything…!" Panic settled in once more, forcing her to kick his leg on reaction, but her sudden instincts did nothing to deter him. He was solid muscle, impervious to her desperate attempt to escape.

The grip only tightened, causing her to cry out. The figure leaned forward, towards her neck, as if he was sniffing her.

Why is he…doing that…?

The cellphone in her gray messenger bag rang.

It was a minor distraction, peaking his interest.

"It's…my cellphone…" She stammered. "…can I just answer it and—"

"Cell…phone…" He repeated, as if the words were foreign to him. The words were soon followed by a growl, as again he spoke in the language he used against the deceased officers.

It sounded like a demand, but she didn't know for sure.

"I…"

The phone ended on the fourth ring, going to voicemail.

"Claire…where the hell are you…? I'm in the lobby and you didn't say you were staying late. Look, just get down here, wherever you are. I don't wanna be out here in the middle of the night. You know about that ongoing case your brother's working on."

What exactly was she supposed to tell Jill, if he allowed her to answer the phone?

That she was trapped on the last floor with an inhuman psychopath and two dead officers and she was his next victim?

It was a mistake coming here.

She was going to die.

"…please…don't hurt me— " She pleaded; her desperation mounting. She tried avoiding the terrifying gaze, but couldn't look away.

The monster cocked his head, impervious to her words.

"...Another pathetic human, begging for their worthless life." The tone was devoid of emotion, but she was able to understand him.

The monster spoke English...?

He didn't allow her to respond.

"As much as it would satisfy me to end your existence, you have some use for the time being."

"…I thought you didn't understand me— " She began, but she never got the words out.

"Silence." The monster hissed, pinning her against the wall.

Another wave of panic overtook her. "Please..."

"I said silence."

She knew better than to speak again.

The monster leaned close to her left ear. "...You will tell me everything I want to know. And if you give me an undesired answer, I will end you far quicker than I intend to do. Now sleep."

Her vision blurred, and with it darkness came.

Author Notes

So...this story is based on a dream that wouldn't leave my mind. I definitely blame the combination of Castlevania and Resident Evil videos for this. I will also now hide under my bed, as writing this has given me the willies. Updates for my other stories are coming so stay tuned!