From Darkness Comes Insanity

The comfort of Amelia's silk sheets and soft pillows were the first thing that greeted her in the morning. She slipped her feet into her favorite penguin patterned slippers, and rubbed her head, reminiscent of her vivid dream. She pulled her robe tighter around herself, remembering the cold unwelcoming tile, and the horrific smiling face.

"Just a dream." She murmured to herself, shaking off the horrors that came with it. She was home now, and safe. She took the stairs one by one, keeping a firm grasp on the rail. The kitchen was empty but illuminated by the sun, leaving a nice homey feel throughout the room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air. Baked cinnamon rolls sat on the counter, the frosting still oozing down the side. It was the one snack Amelia's mom always made when she was in a good mood.

Amelia loved it when her mother baked. Her childhood was filled with memories of delicious pastries and pies. For most of Amelia's life, Amelia’s mother owned a bakery. They lived in a small town, so it wasn't extremely successful, but with her fathers paycheck, it was enough for them to lead a comfortable lifestyle. But, once her father passed away, the bakery was shut down. After that, her mother hardly baked any more. It was always a special occasion when she did.
Amelia’s stomach rumbled, so she happily poured herself a cup of coffee with sugar, and peeled off a section of cinnamon roll, stuffing it into her mouth.

"Mom?" The house was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the coffee maker. Amelia licked the frosting off her fingers and padded through the house, searching for her mother. Cup of coffee in hand, she headed back upstairs and gently tapped on her mothers door, finding it empty. She called out to the house once more then headed to her room, intent on finding her cell phone. She turned it on and quickly glanced at the clock. 8:04. Too early for her to be anywhere. She pressed 2 on her phone, the speed dial already calling her mother. She sipped her coffee and stepped out into the hallway, going back downstairs the finish her cinnamon roll.
Her coffee cupped slipped out of her hand, shattering on the floor. The hand that was holding her cellphone came up to hold in a shriek. The phone dropped into the muddled cup of coffee oozing around on the floor.

Dangling in the hallway was Amelia's mom. Her face was covered in her blood, and her mouth hung slightly open, as if to call out to someone. Her neck was swollen and purple. A blueish hue lingered around her eyes, and a hollow gray shaped her cheeks. One hand extended outward, her index finger pointing behind Amelia. She ignored this and ran up to her mother, trying desperately to untangle her. Amelia gagged at the scent of a rotting body that hung in the air, even though her mother appeared to be alive. Screams left Amelia’s mouth, her hands fumbling around the rope that was fastened tightly around her mothers neck. Amelia dragged her gaze from her neck to her mothers face. A sickening sweet smile was plastered there. It was almost the same smile as the man in her dream, had.

“Behind you.” She croaked out, her voice no more then a low murmur. When someone grabbed her, all she could do was scream.

She gasped as she came out of her dream. She cried into her sweaty palms, pushing away the nightmare. She was sprawled on the same grubby floor, her blood now smeared across the floor along with dirt and mold. Amelia dragged her hands over her face, smearing the blood further. She didn't know whether to be relived that it was a nightmare, or horrified because it wasn't. Another sob threatened to spill out, but she swallowed it back down, leaving a dry lump in her throat. Remembering the previous night, her eyes quickly scanned the window. Instead of being relieved that there was no one there, her stomach released it’s contents on the floor. She dry heaved, not even a crumb of food to puke up. The door was wide open, and the bed she had used as a barricade was neatly dragged to the side. The thought of it made her want to puke again. It was one thing to imagine that someone else was in the darkness with you, it was a completely different story to actually know someone else was there. Amelia realized with a sickening thought that this was some game of survival. The only comfort was a sliver of sunlight shining through a partially covered window, revealing the dost motes floating about in the air.

Amelia was able to find relief in the sunlight, somehow relating it to safety. There was something freeing about daylight, when she could see everything going on around her with clarity. She sat in the one small slit of sunlight, as if it was the only ray of hope she would be able to find in this dark, dank place. Her eyes never left the window in the door. A bout of hunger rolled through her, leaving her feeling even more empty. She clenched one arm around her stomach to silence it and got to her feet, using the wall to steady herself.

Her trembling hand lingered inches from the door knob. Anticipation built up in her stomach, adrenaline pitching higher and higher until she doubled over, dry heaving once more. A small bit of stomach acid came up with it. Amelia briefly wondered if something was actually wrong with he. She didn't know whether she was happy or sad that she may die of some illness before this man killed her. She spit once, trying to erase the burning from her mouth. She pulled the door open with one tug and swallowed back the vile taste in her mouth.

Every 20 yards or so a single beam of sunlight streamed through a window. Amelia made her way down the hall, feeling slightly more confident now that light was shining in. She kept one hand on the wall, taking cautious steps down the hall. Two doors stood at the end of the hallway. They were covered with graffiti, and one of the window panes was smashed out. Amelia's shoes crunched over the glass, echoing throughout the empty halls.

She carefully pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind her. The scene in front of her was at a perfect stand still. It was an old hospital cafeteria. Chairs were over turned and broken, scattered ubiquitously across the room. A few tables were overturned. The cushion of the chairs had been eaten out and torn up. The lunch line was long out of the use, the glass covered in so much dust you couldn't see what was on the other side. On one pane someone had drawn a smiley face in the dust. Amelia ran her hand over the face, erasing it forever, then wiping the dust off on her torn jeans. Ever step she took seemed unbelievably loud compared to the silence that ran throughout the hospital.

Walking into the back, Amelia found several walk in cupboards and fridges. Not even bothering to check the fridge, she went straight for the pantry. In it she found several empty boxes, some remaining crumbs, and several dead rats scattered in and out of boxes. Some were partially eaten by other rats. Unfortunately, there was no trace of any kind of food.

Hopelessly, she switched on a sink. She almost screamed when water burst out of the pipes. It seemed impossible, and extremely unsanitary, but she started gulping the water by the mouthful. She drank and drank until she felt as if her stomach would explode inside of her. She scrubbed until all the dirt was off her hands, then carefully washed some of the blood away from her face, but avidly avoided the wound. She switched off the water and sat by the sink, exhaling a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't die of dehydration.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she began to think about life at home. All the things she used to hate now seemed like precious past times. College, mom, even her asshole step dad. Did they miss her? How long would it take them to find her anyway? She wondered how long she had been missing. Who knows how long she’s been unconscious.

"I need to get the hell out of here.." She muttered, sighing heavily. She smiled at the thought of her mothers cinnamon rolls, but quickly erased the image from her mind. It was just one more thing she may never have again. She pondered things that had been pushed in the back of her mind until now. How did she get here anyway? Who put her here? Where exactly is here? The only thing that she had been able to determine is that she was in a hospital, and had a head wound.

FLASHBACK

I was walking back to the parking lot, my little tan Toyota corolla sat in one of the empty spots, suspiciously far away from the other cars. The college campus was buzzing as usual. If kids weren't sitting around smoking pot, they were chatting about the latest exam or who the hottest teacher was - maybe even the party that was going on in a few days. It was full of life and youth, the way college should be. It just not for me, I guess. I've always preferred a more mature setting, even it was inappropriately mature. As I started up my car I thought about my old partying days. I don't see what the big deal was. It was fun at first, until it turned in to my own personal hell. It's only fun if you don't do it every night. Something an old boyfriend had told me. He was right, but if he knew that, why did he drag me so far in that hell? Drugs and alcohol every night, washing down the hang over with another shot of whiskey and a bong hit. It wasn't really a life. I guess you could say I washed away the pain of my teenager years with lines of coke and alcohol. It probably wasn't the healthiest thing I could have done, but hell, it worked. At least for a little while. Until the side effects became worse then the benefits... I shuddered, remembering hurtful pasts. Turning on to my street, I saw that my Mother was already home. I hurried in to the house, ignoring the cold winds nipping at my skin. The smell of a home cooked meal wafted through the air, making my stomach growl .

"Mom, I'm home!" I said. I knew she wouldn't respond - too wrapped up in her cooking. So, I padded up the stairs. As soon as my door was shut I peeled out of my clothes and slipped on my pj's. Once my laptop warmed up, I took to playing an assortment of games, procrastinating writing the paper that was due in a week. I wrestled the thought in my mind, but thankfully, my mother called me down for food. Dinner was awkwardly silent, as always. My Step Dad raved about the latest case he won, and mom enthusiastically supported him. Another excellent case meant more money for us, but who was I to complain - it meant less money I had to spend on college. After that I went up to bed, continued with my boring sanitary habits, then went to sleep. Then I woke up, here.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. She knew that if she started letting herself break down now, there would be no coming back from it, and she would never get out of here… Still, the memories drifted into her mind, clear as day. Her parents may not have been perfect, but she missed them more then ever right now. After a moment, she angrily slapped her own cheeks. This is no time to be thinking about memories she thought to herself. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She immediately jumped up. She wasn't ready to face this psychopath, but she had no other options. Only she was met with another a fairly normal looking guy, and more importantly, it wasn't the face of the man she saw in the window.

"Hi." She was left utterly speechless. He seemed almost suspiciously normal. It was so out of place, like you would never find a regular person wandering around a place like this.

"I'm Graham."