A fucking psycho I may be, but I’ve yet to do my worst.
I’ll see you on, Erebos.
With love,
Dr. Kore
“I don’t understand.” Xia shook her head slowly before rereading the text to herself. “Brooks, what is this?”
Xia searched his face. What she didn’t expect to see was Brooks leached of color and fighting back vomit.
“She’s real,” he whispered, his voice nearly a whimper. “I thought maybe she was just a bad dream. A nightmare pulled to keep me locked in my own dread, but she’s real Chaos. All of the electroshock, and the torture… Gods, it was all real.”
“Who’s real, Brooks? Who hurt you?”
Their eyes met and his expression made her stomach drop.
“Dr. Kore.”
“I’m going to place your head gear now. Do try not to move.”
“Do your worst, you fucking psycho.”
That saccharine smile would be scarred into his mind for the span of his eternal life. Every muscle tensed and relaxed with each breath, his lungs holding less air with each squeeze. The heat of his palms plummeted to freezing and a film of sweat clung to every inch.
“Brooks? Are you okay?”
Why did she sound like she stood at the other end of a tunnel? He could hardly hear the voice he needed most over the pounding of his heart. He fought for every unbearable breath and the gasps echoed through his soul.
Hands pressed against his chest and his body lurched backward, the chairs crashing to the floor as the table overturned. Brooks clawed at the floor for traction and didn’tstop until his back hit something immovable.
Trapped.
We are not trapped, and we are not helpless. Hold onto me, Brooks. I can take this away if you will only share the burden.
Gods he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t fucking think.
Hold onto me!
His vision blurred and he pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes to clear the fog, but he only slipped further into the darkness. He laced trembling fingers through his coarse locks and clenched his hands until every follicle stabbed as sharply as a needlepoint. He needed the pain to ground him but all it did was pull him further under the rising tide.
I can ground you. Do not slip.
A malicious laugh reverberated through his skull and rattled what little security he’d found in this new world.
Brooks closed his eyes and begged silently for someone, anyone, to make it stop but to whom should he pray? He was the ultimate power. He held the key to creation.
No one.
No one could help him.
Godsdammit, Brooks!
The final ounce of dread from that thought grabbed his ankle like a vice and dragged his head under water. All of a sudden, he was back in the asylum, his body pressed against a splintered wooden table with worn leather holding him prisoner in the darkness. The omnipresent smell of antiseptic burned his nostrils and made his stomach churn as the sense of foreboding sat like a weight on his chest. That same laugh, cruel with intention, echoed through the room and he nearly sobbed.
The click of heels announced her presence beside him, and he forced his eyes to swivel as far as they could. He fought the strap holding his head in place but it was immovable. A white jacketwith gold buttons stopped close and a cloying floral fragrance choked every particle of oxygen he inhaled.
He needed his head to turn, to see her. The anticipation of not seeing pain coming was enough to drag him deeper into the panic that had already swallowed him whole. A hand brushed the hair matted with sweat around his temple as she leaned forward and brushed painted lips against his ear before sinking her teeth into the lobe.
