Clairvoyant Disease

In the confines of a dimly lit hospital room you could hear the dull beep of a heart monitor. The smell of death masked the scent of antiseptic, and outside the air was cold and thin. The patient’s dark eyes darted around the room nervously, searching for any sign of change. He has become accustomed to this life, his thoughts haunting him, and the never relenting fear that the voice will return.

The patient never notices all of his improvements. Being moved to a normal room, being taken off of half his medicines. He doesn’t acknowledge all the good things. He dwells on the wrong. Although he knows he can come so far, he also knows it’s been so long.

On the outside he seems strong, he appears to be improving. But on the inside his thoughts are slowly eating away at him—as are the voices. As they grow stronger he grows weaker. He tries to fight, but the disease seeps through his pores; tainting his once perfect body. He doesn’t know why this illness started, or where it came from. All he knows is that this spot in hell is where he belongs now.

“Brian, it’s time for your medicine.”

The patient’s eyes widen, and he looks at the doorway. The nurse is standing there, flanked by two doctors that will hold him down while she injects him with the ‘sedative’. He swallows, trying to coat his dry throat so he can speak—so he can beg her not to give him the drug. It just torments the voices, it makes them angry, and it makes them hurt him.

“P-please.”

He begs the nurse with his eyes, hoping praying she will take pity on him and leave him be for just a little bit longer. That she will give him just a few more minutes of stone cold silence in his feverish head.

“Hold him down, this one’s a fighter.”

Brian immediately tenses up, his muscles twitching beneath the cool bed sheets. As the two doctors draw closer to the bed, Brian prepares himself for the pain of being held down and injected with the thick black liquid. Although it is a familiar pain, one he experiences three times a day…it doesn’t get any easier.

The taller doctor walks to the right side of Brian’s bed, and reaches over him to hold his shoulders down. The other one takes ahold of his legs and they both use all their strength to stop Brian’s struggling. The nurse prepares the needle, making sure Brian gets a good look at it before she comes to his side.

“This will make you feel all better.”

Although her words seem soothing, they are an empty promise. Brian knows the drug won’t make him better. He knows that it will take him to a place that not only scares him, but a place he doesn’t understand. A place that doesn’t exist.

As the nurse injects Brian’s body with the thick, black liquid a blood curdling scream emits from his throat. The burning sensation that is now flowing through his veins is just too much for his weakened body to handle.

The nurse removes the needle, and motions for the doctors to release Brian’s legs and shoulders. They nod, before obeying her silent order. She takes one last look at the convulsing man on the bed, then turns on her heel and leave the hospital room; the muscular doctors only a few steps behind her.

Brian can feel his body shutting down as the sedative takes over, making his body numb and turning his brain to mush. His breathing turns heavy as he tries to fight the deep sleep threatening to take over his body.

A moment later his eyes begin to close, and he gives one last ditch effort to beat the sleep. But as his eyes slip shut he gives into the drug, preparing himself for the worst.

Brian’s eyes burst open, and he sits up and quickly looks around the dark room breathing in the cold and thin air. He is struggling to catch his breath, his gasps for air breaking the impenetrable silence of the dark room. He hears footsteps, and he scrambles out of the bed to his feet before whirling around and looking in the direction of the noise. He swallows hard, and takes a step towards the doorway. When nothing happens, Brian feels confidence flow thorough his veins.

He takes a deep breath, before making his way across the hospital room to the door. He peeks out the sliver of glass into the hallway, and when he sees nobody his hands moves to the doorknob, turning it cautiously.

He pushes the door open, and slips into the hallway. There is a sinister look about the hallway, dust is hanging in the air like smoke and you can hear the screams of other…victims. Brian coughs, his lungs trying to expel the unwelcome particles.

”Brian.”

At the sound of his name, Brian looks up from the floor. Fear weasels its way into Brian’s body, making his heartbeat quicken and causing him to wrap his arms around himself as a form of comfort. He knows that voice…it’s the voice that put him in this place.

His pace quickens, turning to a brisk walk down the hallway; his bare feet padding along the cool tiled floor. He glances into the rooms he is passing by, his eyes widening at the sight of the satanic beings in the rooms. One of the beings look up, sending Brian a demonic smile “Are you scared princess?” The being asks, his eyes flashing black before going back to a light shade of green.

Brian tears his gaze away from the familiar face, and continues his way down the hall. He can hear water dripping from the exposed pipes above him, a constant and steady drip…drip…drip…. He makes it to the end of the hall, and looks left, then right, and left again. He makes the decision in the time it takes for your heart to beat once, and turns right.

As his eyes look around the dark hospital, he can’t help but look over his shoulder every few seconds and glance around every corner. If he comes in contact with the man behind the voice, there is no doubt in his mind his life will be over.

Brian takes a left turn, and the moment his feet step over a threshold into another wing in the hospital the sound of combat-boot clad footsteps can be heard behind him. Brian breaks into a sprint, trying to look for somewhere to hide.

”There’s nowhere to run and hide.”

Brian brings his hands to his head and covers his ear. His face contorts into a pained grimace, while he stumbles into a room. He closes the door behind him, and when he turns around he lets out a sigh of relief. He can breathe easy knowing that the combat boot clad person isn’t going to find him; he can continue living.

”When You’re living to die”

Brian’s breath hitches in his throat, and he struggles to form a coherent sentence. A million thoughts are running though his head. How is the voice getting louder? How does the man keep finding him? What was that sound outside the door? The voice…why is it here. Why is it so loud? It’s never been that loud before.

As the footsteps draw nearer, Brian holds his breath and waits for them to pass. If he can just get out of this trap he can make it to the nearest exit; he can make it out of this place. He won’t be stuck in here alone, living in fear with only his own thoughts to keep him company. He’ll be able to make a break for it, and go back to living as a mortal man instead of a diseased experiment.

The footsteps stop in front of the door for a moment, as if hesitating. Brian swallows hard, and almost wills the man to walk by. The footsteps start back up, and fade into the distance. Brian counts to a hundred, before getting to his feet and opening the door slowly. The hinges creak loudly, causing Brian’s eyes to widen in fear. The voice will have heard it for sure…

“I need help.”

The words Brian utter are barely above a whisper, but are loud enough for the man to hear. A dark chuckle resonates throughout the empty hospital, the demonic laughter chilling Brian to the core.

”Stuck alone inside your head.”

At the truth of the voice’s words, Brian can feel his hope begin to fade. The adrenaline he had only seconds prior begins to drain from his body, and as his body weakens his mind becomes hazy. He stumbles through the hallways blindly, searching for an exit. His vision blurs with salty tears, and as he silently cries he prays that the death he can feel coming will be quick and painless. The way that everyone wants to go…

But Brian isn’t everyone; he is a sick man with a debilitated mind and slowly deteriorating body. He’s been dying for months…he just didn’t know it yet. Everything he has been through has been leading up to this moment, the moment that the man behind the voice catches him…and ends him.

Brian stumbles, falling to his knees. He scrapes his hands against the floor, a shard of glass cutting into the palm of his right hand. He lets out a pained cry, clutching his hand to his chest. Brian is too busy nursing his wounded hand to notice the loud, menacing footsteps coming down the hallway. The person they belong to is walking at a measured pace; a slow gait down the hallway towards his prize.

As the figure draws nearer, the stinging pain clouding Brian’s senses begins to fade and Brian can clearly distinguish the sound of the combat boot-clad footsteps. His breath hitches in his throat and his body freezes. Even if he wanted to move…he couldn’t. His heart is beating so fast it feels as if it’s going to burst out of his chest and there is a sheen of sweat glistening on his bare torso.

The footsteps stop and a shadow falls over Brian’s body. He licks over his lips, prepared to say—or do—anything to save himself.

“Do you know what you are Brian?”

The voice is loud and clear, coming from right behind Brian. He can almost feel someone’s warm breath on the back of his neck, almost smell the scent of alcohol on their breath. He feels a pair of large hands wrap themselves around his neck, slowly beginning to strangle him to death. Brian desperately tries to catch his breath while his airways are constricted by the hands.

”You’re living to die”



Name: Brian Elwin Haner Jr.
Age: 28
Residence: Los Angeles, California
Place of Death: Los Angeles Regional Medical Center
Cause of Death: Clairvoyant Disease