I made it. I got away.
It felt amazing. Freedom. When it hit me, I almost pulled over to celebrate. Every mile was pounds off my chest and air in my lungs. As the city fell behind me, so did my fears, because I knew He was back there too. It made me smile to think of him stomping his feet like a child.
And then I was twisted around, surrounded by darkness. I blinked against the blur of the dashboard of my car, and tried to sit up right. My seatbelt was on, and I felt like I was being pulled in two directions, and gravity felt all wrong.
There were trees outside. I struggled to move but was pinned down, and couldn’t think straight. I don’t think I even knew who I was at the time. Slowly, it came back to me, and I looked around again as a bright light obscured my vision momentarily.
The trees. They were wrong. They were
No, I was sideways. My car. What happened?
There was the light again, illuminating the tree trunks around my car, and I could see the ground out the passenger side window.
I tried to yell for help as I fumbled with the seatbelt that was keeping in this awkward position, hands working like they were made of jelly. The light came again, illuminating two new trees in front of my car.
No, not trees.
No no no no no no
The legs moved closer as my seatbelt buckle finally gave out against my frantic assault, and the side door rushed up to my head.
I finally realized that I had been hearing things all along, voices and sirens from outside, and the legs disappeared around the other side of the car.
Then, I was being lifted by several men in uniforms, and I realized who the legs had belonged to.
It was like watching a movie in the first person, blood covered gloves and gauze, being loaded onto a gurney and carted to the ambulance, completely unable to do anything. It felt familiar, and I realized this was the second time in two weeks, but at least I could remember this time.
As they rolled me off, the lights from the ambulance and patrol cars lit up the woods along the road in sequence. And there he was, standing among the trees like he belonged there, immobile, but I could feel him watching, that cold grip on the back of my neck, and I knew I’d never be rid of him.
I was sent to the same hospital as last time, with the same doctor, and I wanted to knock that look off his face when he saw me.
The next day, while I was still in the hospital, an officer came into my room to ask questions.
Apparently my tire marks and the result of the crash showed I had been going way over the speed limit and had taken a curve straight instead of trying to turn. Then he told me they found the money in my car, from my emptied bank accounts, and the note I left for Alex on my door, explaining how I was sorry but had to go, and all that combined with the previous “attempted suicide” got me here, in psychiatric care.
It took me a few days to convince them to let me write this up. I told them I wanted to let my friends know I was okay.
But I’m not. He keeps showing up in my room. Of course they don’t believe me. I’m just another crazy person here to get fixed, right? Drugs and therapy, all day.
Alex came by yesterday. She finally changed her mind about me, just like everyone else. Just another crazy person.
This is Dr. Stephen Alster, and the writer of this blog is now my patient. I’m sure you know that I cannot divulge any personal information, but I feel that I ought to at the least let anyone who may have followed this know that the he is under the best of care, which I am sure you have all been hopeful for since the beginning.
ReplyDeleteWe did not realize initially what he wanted to write about so desperately when he first arrived in our ward. However, after checking his internet history, I see now that it was a mistake to permit him to do so, as it allowed him to further indulge in this fantasy he has constructed. Still, there was no way we could have known. And, reading through these “entries” presently has made me aware that he is much more deeply troubled than we previously thought.
I want to make it clear that he is not a danger to himself or anyone else in his lucid states, but these blackouts and hallucinations he reports are extremely disconcerting. He is understandably resistant to our care, but I feel that he will soon come to accept our aid gladly, and we will be able to alleviate his condition and release him without trouble. We are seeking to create a stable, consistent, relaxed environment in which he can recover, and once maintenance clears up a minor pest problem, he will be returned to his normal room, which should greatly accelerate his progress.
I also feel obligated, as ridiculous as I am sure it will sound, to assure anyone reading this that, no, this “Slender Man” does not exist – at least, not outside of the works of low-brow internet fiction that I have managed to find, which surely must have sparked these delusions in the first place. If you do think you have seen this character, I advise you to not hesitate in calling the police, and to seek psychiatric care promptly.
BULLSHIT.
ReplyDeleteI KNOW.
I SAW HIM.
BUT THE MAD GODDESS PROTECTS HER FLOCK.
I AM SAFE.
SING, AND HE SHALL WEEP!