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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/googlyeyes93 on 2024-09-20 21:07:55+00:00.
DAY 7
I slept fitfully last night. This morning though, I found out that Philip had a similar experience as I did. One was speaking to him in the same way, under his breath and laughing. Though he wouldn’t tell me what he was saying, he was shaken to the core because One called him by name, too. We decided to sit in with Taryn during her shift this morning, just in case anything happened.
It didn’t take too long. One was still sitting in his bunk, muttering under his breath, when he mentioned Taryn by name this time.
ONE: Do you miss it, Taryn?
Taryn didn’t know how to reply, obviously. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening, since she hadn’t had the experience Philip and I had.
ONE: Do you miss the way he touched you?
She grew pale, running from the room and barely making it into the hallway before throwing up whatever breakfast she had.
ONE: He does. He misses it!
He was laughing now, chuckling under his breath.
ONE: He’s right here, if you’d like to say hello! Daddy misses you, Taryn!
”Jesus fucking Christ…” was all Philip could manage to get out. I ran out after Taryn, trying to console her from the massive anxiety attack she was now having. The poor girl was crouched in a corner of the hallway, hands over her head like she was in a tornado drill, hyperventilating hard.
”Please make him stop.” She sobbed, begging anyone that would listen.
One of the other subjects started shouting at One as he laughed louder, pressing on their already frayed nerves. Philip shouted for me to come back as Two walked into One’s room, ready to fight. I called Murray over, getting him on standby in case things got bad.
TWO: Would you shut the FUCK UP!
He grabbed One, bashing his head into the wall like he was throwing a bloody alarm clock to shut it up. One didn’t stop laughing, despite another hit right into the wall. Murray ran in, trying to keep One from being killed as Two grabbed him again, going for another hit. One didn’t stop laughing, now looking at Two.
ONE: They found me. They’ll find you soon too. You’re out of your cell.
TWO: The fuck are you even talking about you little shit?
ONE: How many girls were there?
TWO: What?
ONE: I can’t count them all. The room is getting crowded.
TWO: (smashes One’s head into the wall again) Shut up! Shut UP!
Around this time Murray ran in, another guard on duty following him to help restrain the big man. One was still laughing, now counting out loud. Honestly if it wasn’t for the caved in part of his head, it would be hilarious. He was letting out a laugh between every number like the damned Count on Sesame Street.
Murray grabbed Two, pulling him back and throwing him into his own room before shutting the door, pulling out keys to lock it so he would have solitary time to chill out. For the first time, we had to pull a patient out, bringing One into the small medical bay to assess his injuries.
By every part of science that I know of, he shouldn’t have been alive, much less conscious right then. There he was though, sitting on the medical table and laughing, muttering under his breath about all the lovely people coming out to make sure he was okay.
I got chills then, because he started saying names as he looked around the room. Our exams were showing that he was in perfect cognitive shape still, other than the lack of sleep. Hell, it looks like he was starting to come back around into a more clarified state. What better time to get some direct answers, right?
ME: One, what are you seeing right now?
ONE: The other kids. Classmates, friends, bullies…
ME: What kids?
ONE: The kids I buried.
My blood ran cold, wondering if he could be delusional by this point. He was ahead of the others when it came to time awake, so his symptoms were definitely going to be more advanced than the others.
ONE: Oh, hi Coach. Mitchell!
Suddenly, as I was exampining his pupils to see if they were still reacting to light, he began to seize on the table. Before I knew what was happening, a mass of blood and organs erupted from his stomach, seemingly being grabbed and torn from the outside.
MURRAY: Jesus! What in the hell?! Mike, did you do that?
I was backed away from the table now, blood spattered across my face and clothes. On the table, One was laughing harder now, looking around his surroundings wildly.
ONE: Ahhh, that feels so much better.
I rushed forward, desperately trying to fit his organs back into his abdomen and keep him alive. He looked more peaceful now, in some kind of relief from before. Despite the blood gushing from his insides, he wasn’t showing any signs of trauma or stress in his psychological response. His body, at this point, should have been shutting down from shock, but he was almost refreshed, like he had just woken from a satisfying nap.
ME: One, can you still hear me?
ONE: Oh, yes. I can hear you. Sorry about that earlier.
ME: What exactly happened, One?
ONE: They want to keep me here. They’re still mad.
ME: Who’s mad, One?
ONE: I told you, the people I buried. The people I loved. I didn’t want anyone else to get them, and now they don’t want anyone else to get me.
ME: Get you? What do you mean?
ONE: The jailer.
I don’t really… know what he’s talking about. After that he just laid on the table while I did what I could to stitch him up. Whatever happened, it looked like he had been pulled every which way from the inside until his guts finally burst through his skin. Some organs were shredded, with his spleen in at least three different pieces that weren’t going to do anything for him anymore. Despite all, he just stayed there, catatonic but smiling like he was finally comfortable.
I stitched and bandaged his stomach, finally getting some of the bleeding under control. I wasn’t sure what to do with the shredded organs I found, just removing them so they didn’t go necrotic inside. The next thing he did is something that I, before now, would have thought was something from a horror movie.
One got up, walking right to the door with only a little bit of a limp in his gait. His skull half caved in, blood already oozing through the bandage, he walked from the medical bay, going to the door back into the subject room. As he passed by Taryn in the hallway, he briefly looked her way.
ONE: I’m sorry about earlier. He was a very angry man, very intimidating. I see how it happened so much.
TARYN: What is wrong with you! How the hell did you know that!?
ONE: He was whispering in my ear. (He looks back down the hallway to Murray and I) Can someone let me back in? I’d like to apologize to the bad man.
What else was I supposed to do? We let him in, and he went straight to Two’s door, looking through the glass at the angry man, now banging on the thick glass of his door to try and get at the scrawny boy. He stopped in shock when he got a good look at him, noticing the massive amount of blood and caved in head.
ONE: I feel bad for you. I don’t feel bad for many people, but you’re about to have a bad time.
TWO: Who the fuck are you? What do you know about me?
ONE: Everything. They told me all of it. They said they’ll see you soon though, so I don’t need to do anything.
Three, Four, and Five were backed against the farthest wall they could be as One spoke. I think this was the first time I saw Five break the cool exterior, genuine fear in his face as he looked at the mangled One. The worst though was Three, who was now pale and looked like he had seen a ghost. One turned to the rest of them, now that his apology was over. His flattened skull was unnerving, even watching over a security monitor as the other three subjects looked on in horror.
One went into his room, smiling as he sat back down on his cot, going into a near catatonic state.
Taryn was able to compose herself enough to tell us about why she had that reaction. I won’t go too into her personal trauma, but to put it short, she was molested by her father as a child. At some point in her teens, she fought back, pushing him hard enough that he fell in their bathroom, cracking his head on the toilet and dying. She was in tears as she told us this, saying she had never told anyone but the cops and her therapist about this, and there shouldn’t be any way that One would know.
We compared notes, finding out that each of us had something he shouldn’t know about. My disease, Taryn’s trauma, and Philip, who confessed he had killed two people in a drunk driving accident, one that his father managed to get him out of thanks to some money and a prosecutor friend.
Philip took over the rest of Taryn’s watch while I tried to rest in preparation for mine. It was useless though, as all I could see every time I closed my eyes was One being ripped to shreds from the inside out, smiling the whole time. He was thankful for what had happened, like they were protecting him some great evil that we didn’t know of. I needed to figure out who this Jailer he spoke of is. It’s all my mind could think about as I tossed in bed for hours, expecting Philip to call me in at any moment about some new insanity.
He didn’t, much to my surprise, and I dragged myself in to prepare for my watch, getting up to speed from him as I poured a cup of coffee in the kitchen. For the most part, things were slow compared to the usual. I don’t know if the chaos of the day already was a sign of peace for the rest, but I would take it at this point. …
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