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Description
It was one o'clock in the morning when Doctor Cynthia Holloway got the call about her patient. He was at it again and from the sound of the orderly on the phone, this time around it seemed especially violent. She wondered what truly caused these episodes. For the life of her she had no clue. In her professional opinion she would classify him as a Paranoid Schizophrenic, with intermittent explosive disorder. She waved such thoughts away, got dressed, tied back her long curly brown hair into a harsh bun, and grabbed her briefcase. She looked at the clock and sighed and drove an hour to Saint Dymphna Psychiatric Hospital.
She was still awed at the oppressive old structure that hung over her like Cerberus guarding the gates to the Underworld. The main building had three massive wings with the center wing's entrance that seemed like it should belong on a medieval castle. Her heels clacked all the way up the stairs to the door. She heard the reassuring beep and click as the door released.
Once she got inside she felt ill at ease and she looked at the security guard, Herbert sitting behind a desk filled with a multitude of monitors.
"Good morning, Doctor Holloway, and good luck." he said.
"Is it that bad?"
"Yeah, I saw the commotion, it wasn't pretty. I think you should hurry along and try to get things calmed down."
"I think I should've grabbed a coffee--" she said.
Before she could finish that thought Herbert handed her a styrofoam cup filled with hot black liquid.
"Thanks, Herb! You're a life saver!"
Herbert nodded, smiled and went back to viewing the monitors.
She walked down the corridor with a brisk pace. As she turned the corner an orderly with greasy hair and a worried expression approached her; he struggled to keep her pace.
"Doctor, he has been screaming for an hour now. He's rilin' up the other patients. We tried to restrain him, but he hurt Jim really bad."
"When did this happen?"
"Just after you left. We thought--"
"You thought?! Who told you to think? If something like this happens I want to be notified immediately!"
Cynthia had never liked this orderly, she glanced at his badge, it said: Xavier Vasquez. To think someone with such a regal name could be such a little toad.
"Well maybe if you didn't rough him up, you could handle him. In all honesty, I don't even see how you are employed here," she said.
Xavier stopped, eyes wide, trying desperately to find the words to respond. Cynthia sighed, handed him her empty cup, and waved him away. Xavier, looked a little lost, scurried away.
She finally made it to the patient's room and saw Jim, a giant beast of a man with a large gash on his arm. Cynthia stared at him in disbelief, all the while the patient screaming like a demon wind.
"Seriously, can you please stop bleeding everywhere and go see a doctor that cares!" she said.
"Bu--" he said, and was interrupted by Cynthia's cold grey gaze.
Vasquez ushered Jim away to the nurse's station while Cynthia skimmed over her notes. She tapped on the door.
"Michael. It's Doctor Holloway. What seems to be the problem?"
The cries died down to a whimper.
She looked at one of the two remaining orderlies. He was a tall man that looked a little like Greek statue, and he walked up and fumbled with the keys to unlock Michael's door. The other stood ready to protect Doctor Holloway.
Cynthia stifled a gasp when the orderly opened the door. The room was covered in blood and feces. Words were scrawled on every surface obtainable. Michael was in the corner, naked from the waist down, covered in blood, filth, and looked a bit feral. They must have wrestled that straightjacket and muzzle on him. She felt slightly saddened by the scene.
"How did this happen?! I was only gone for five hours!" she said.
Both orderlies looked away, dumfounded.
"You know what?! I don't care," she turned to look at Michael, "It will be okay. Shh. Shh. There now. It will be alright."
Michael's blue eyes were bloodshot as he stared up at Cynthia. She noticed the blood that lined his mouth and she mentally chuckled to herself. He must've taken a huge chunk out of Jim, she thought.
She reached in her coat to reach for a syringe and an ampoule. Doctor Holloway broke the cap and pulled out the liquid with the needle.
"It'll be okay this will help you sleep."
Michael's eyes started to flutter as he fell into a deep slumber. Cynthia stood up and straightened her outfit. Her face was almost crimson with rage, but her voice was still like a frozen river.
"Get him and this room cleaned! Move him to Room two seventeen. Also, if I ever see something like this again you won't even be wiping old people's asses in a nursing home!"
She passed through the two orderlies, it seemed that they almost shivered from the chill that she exuded.
Cynthia was tired, but she decided not to go home. She would try to relax in her office instead, since she had to be here in her official capacity at six o'clock, she tried to lie down on her couch, but found herself restless. She couldn't help but stare at the file cabinet, so she finally willed herself up and went over to find Michael's file. Cynthia turned on the reading light and began her search.
"Thompson... Tidman... Ah! Tillman, Michael!" she said.
She sifted through Michael's file. He was a best-selling author and made a fine living at his craft. He lost his wife and child in a house fire, the police report stated it was faulty wiring that generated excessive heat due to the surrounding insulation and ignited the wood of the house. It seemed that Michael didn't recover from that loss and blamed himself for their fate. According to his family, he started to drink and withdrew from society. It wasn't till later that the neighbors would call the police about strange noises coming from his apartment."
She looked through the different papers and saw that his family had him committed because they had found him in a state similar to that she found him in.
"Still...how can a man do all that by himself in such a limited amount of time? Since he has been here he has been no better or worse than the other patients. Even before his wife and child died, he seemed to live a charmed life. What could it be...?"
Just then, she noticed the dates. The death of his wife and child; the police reports, and today were all the same days, March twenty-third. Cynthia shook her head.
"Oh, what superstitious nonsense!" she laughed.
She dug through her briefcase and found some recordings of her sessions with Michael.
"Maybe I can find something I missed."
She clicked the play button and sat and listened to the session. The mini recorder crackled to life.
"This is Doctor Cynthia Holloway with patient number four hundred and seventy-five: Michael Theodore Tillman. Session number seven."
"Please tell me your name."
"Michael Tillman."
"How old are you?"
"I am thirty-two."
She fast forwarded the conversation.
"What do you mean demons killed your wife and child? The police said it was faulty wiring that burned your house down."
"It's a lie! They took them! Tore them to shreds... B-Billy... A-nna... they were screaming... I couldn't help..."
"Why couldn't you help them, Michael?"
"I was... frozen... I saw their... anguish! I still...remember Billy's cries! 'Daddy...help me...!' I..."
"Shhh, it's ok."
"I...wanted to save them... Flames... all in flames!" All that could be heard after that was Michael screaming.
There was an abrupt click and then silence.
As soon as the tape stopped the lights began to flicker, then went out.
"Oh, what is it now!"
She fumbled around in the gloom to find her flash light and stun gun; she flicked the light on and heard a knock on the door.
"Doctor Holloway, are you okay?" said a muffled voice from behind the door.
"Yes, I'm fine, who is it?"
"It's me Herbert."
"What's going on Herb?"
"We aren't sure yet, but the auxiliary power should be on soon."
"Okay, thanks for letting me know."
From behind the door she could hear a pair of hurried steps and excited words. She walked to the door and opened it. It was Xavier.
"What is it?" she said.
"Um, Miss Doctor Holloway..."
She gave him a blank stare.
"Yes?" she said.
"M-Michael is gone."
Her eyes narrowed and a look of annoyance crept across her face. "What do you mean he is gone? He was sedated!"
"We got him cleaned and took him to his new room and I checked on him an hour later and he was just... gone."
Another orderly showed up. It was the "Greek statue." His badge, she noticed, read 'Pryce Henson.'
"What is it now?!" she said.
"We found him, ma'am! He's on the roof!"
"Oh, dear God! How did he end up there?"
"We don't know ma'am."
Cynthia sighed and headed for the stairs. Her heels drummed a staccato as she ascended the steps. The shadows in the stairwell were cast at bizarre angles by the emergency lights and only heightened the unease that she felt.
Finally, at the roof, she saw Michael, naked, staring over the edge.
"Michael! Please step away from the edge!"
"Its okay, Doctor Holloway. I understand now."
"What do you mean?"
"I see it now. It's so grand. The pure blue flames... Malebolge..."
Michael stepped closer to the edge. Cynthia rushed to catch him, but barely missed as he fell.
The look on his face was serene as he seemed to drift to the earth below. She looked on and saw a brilliant flash of flame. Michael was consumed and disappeared in the light. The only thing that remained was the smell of sulfur.
Cynthia sat there in shock as the sun rose over Saint Dymphna. She sat on the edge of the roof laughed in desperation...
"This is Doctor Cynthia Holloway with patient number four hundred and seventy-five: Michael Theodore Tillman. Session number eight."
All that can be heard is the sound of the tape being fast forwarded.
"Don't you see, Doctor?! I sold my soul and they took my family! I... I... caused... they died because of me!"

Description
It was one o'clock in the morning when Doctor Cynthia Holloway got the call about her patient. He was at it again and from the sound of the orderly on the phone, this time around it seemed especially violent. She wondered what truly caused these episodes. For the life of her she had no clue. In her professional opinion she would classify him as a Paranoid Schizophrenic, with intermittent explosive disorder. She waved such thoughts away, got dressed, tied back her long curly brown hair into a harsh bun, and grabbed her briefcase. She looked at the clock and sighed and drove an hour to Saint Dymphna Psychiatric Hospital.
She was still awed at the oppressive old structure that hung over her like Cerberus guarding the gates to the Underworld. The main building had three massive wings with the center wing's entrance that seemed like it should belong on a medieval castle. Her heels clacked all the way up the stairs to the door. She heard the reassuring beep and click as the door released.
Once she got inside she felt ill at ease and she looked at the security guard, Herbert sitting behind a desk filled with a multitude of monitors.
"Good morning, Doctor Holloway, and good luck." he said.
"Is it that bad?"
"Yeah, I saw the commotion, it wasn't pretty. I think you should hurry along and try to get things calmed down."
"I think I should've grabbed a coffee--" she said.
Before she could finish that thought Herbert handed her a styrofoam cup filled with hot black liquid.
"Thanks, Herb! You're a life saver!"
Herbert nodded, smiled and went back to viewing the monitors.
She walked down the corridor with a brisk pace. As she turned the corner an orderly with greasy hair and a worried expression approached her; he struggled to keep her pace.
"Doctor, he has been screaming for an hour now. He's rilin' up the other patients. We tried to restrain him, but he hurt Jim really bad."
"When did this happen?"
"Just after you left. We thought--"
"You thought?! Who told you to think? If something like this happens I want to be notified immediately!"
Cynthia had never liked this orderly, she glanced at his badge, it said: Xavier Vasquez. To think someone with such a regal name could be such a little toad.
"Well maybe if you didn't rough him up, you could handle him. In all honesty, I don't even see how you are employed here," she said.
Xavier stopped, eyes wide, trying desperately to find the words to respond. Cynthia sighed, handed him her empty cup, and waved him away. Xavier, looked a little lost, scurried away.
She finally made it to the patient's room and saw Jim, a giant beast of a man with a large gash on his arm. Cynthia stared at him in disbelief, all the while the patient screaming like a demon wind.
"Seriously, can you please stop bleeding everywhere and go see a doctor that cares!" she said.
"Bu--" he said, and was interrupted by Cynthia's cold grey gaze.
Vasquez ushered Jim away to the nurse's station while Cynthia skimmed over her notes. She tapped on the door.
"Michael. It's Doctor Holloway. What seems to be the problem?"
The cries died down to a whimper.
She looked at one of the two remaining orderlies. He was a tall man that looked a little like Greek statue, and he walked up and fumbled with the keys to unlock Michael's door. The other stood ready to protect Doctor Holloway.
Cynthia stifled a gasp when the orderly opened the door. The room was covered in blood and feces. Words were scrawled on every surface obtainable. Michael was in the corner, naked from the waist down, covered in blood, filth, and looked a bit feral. They must have wrestled that straightjacket and muzzle on him. She felt slightly saddened by the scene.
"How did this happen?! I was only gone for five hours!" she said.
Both orderlies looked away, dumfounded.
"You know what?! I don't care," she turned to look at Michael, "It will be okay. Shh. Shh. There now. It will be alright."
Michael's blue eyes were bloodshot as he stared up at Cynthia. She noticed the blood that lined his mouth and she mentally chuckled to herself. He must've taken a huge chunk out of Jim, she thought.
She reached in her coat to reach for a syringe and an ampoule. Doctor Holloway broke the cap and pulled out the liquid with the needle.
"It'll be okay this will help you sleep."
Michael's eyes started to flutter as he fell into a deep slumber. Cynthia stood up and straightened her outfit. Her face was almost crimson with rage, but her voice was still like a frozen river.
"Get him and this room cleaned! Move him to Room two seventeen. Also, if I ever see something like this again you won't even be wiping old people's asses in a nursing home!"
She passed through the two orderlies, it seemed that they almost shivered from the chill that she exuded.
Cynthia was tired, but she decided not to go home. She would try to relax in her office instead, since she had to be here in her official capacity at six o'clock, she tried to lie down on her couch, but found herself restless. She couldn't help but stare at the file cabinet, so she finally willed herself up and went over to find Michael's file. Cynthia turned on the reading light and began her search.
"Thompson... Tidman... Ah! Tillman, Michael!" she said.
She sifted through Michael's file. He was a best-selling author and made a fine living at his craft. He lost his wife and child in a house fire, the police report stated it was faulty wiring that generated excessive heat due to the surrounding insulation and ignited the wood of the house. It seemed that Michael didn't recover from that loss and blamed himself for their fate. According to his family, he started to drink and withdrew from society. It wasn't till later that the neighbors would call the police about strange noises coming from his apartment."
She looked through the different papers and saw that his family had him committed because they had found him in a state similar to that she found him in.
"Still...how can a man do all that by himself in such a limited amount of time? Since he has been here he has been no better or worse than the other patients. Even before his wife and child died, he seemed to live a charmed life. What could it be...?"
Just then, she noticed the dates. The death of his wife and child; the police reports, and today were all the same days, March twenty-third. Cynthia shook her head.
"Oh, what superstitious nonsense!" she laughed.
She dug through her briefcase and found some recordings of her sessions with Michael.
"Maybe I can find something I missed."
She clicked the play button and sat and listened to the session. The mini recorder crackled to life.
"This is Doctor Cynthia Holloway with patient number four hundred and seventy-five: Michael Theodore Tillman. Session number seven."
"Please tell me your name."
"Michael Tillman."
"How old are you?"
"I am thirty-two."
She fast forwarded the conversation.
"What do you mean demons killed your wife and child? The police said it was faulty wiring that burned your house down."
"It's a lie! They took them! Tore them to shreds... B-Billy... A-nna... they were screaming... I couldn't help..."
"Why couldn't you help them, Michael?"
"I was... frozen... I saw their... anguish! I still...remember Billy's cries! 'Daddy...help me...!' I..."
"Shhh, it's ok."
"I...wanted to save them... Flames... all in flames!" All that could be heard after that was Michael screaming.
There was an abrupt click and then silence.
As soon as the tape stopped the lights began to flicker, then went out.
"Oh, what is it now!"
She fumbled around in the gloom to find her flash light and stun gun; she flicked the light on and heard a knock on the door.
"Doctor Holloway, are you okay?" said a muffled voice from behind the door.
"Yes, I'm fine, who is it?"
"It's me Herbert."
"What's going on Herb?"
"We aren't sure yet, but the auxiliary power should be on soon."
"Okay, thanks for letting me know."
From behind the door she could hear a pair of hurried steps and excited words. She walked to the door and opened it. It was Xavier.
"What is it?" she said.
"Um, Miss Doctor Holloway..."
She gave him a blank stare.
"Yes?" she said.
"M-Michael is gone."
Her eyes narrowed and a look of annoyance crept across her face. "What do you mean he is gone? He was sedated!"
"We got him cleaned and took him to his new room and I checked on him an hour later and he was just... gone."
Another orderly showed up. It was the "Greek statue." His badge, she noticed, read 'Pryce Henson.'
"What is it now?!" she said.
"We found him, ma'am! He's on the roof!"
"Oh, dear God! How did he end up there?"
"We don't know ma'am."
Cynthia sighed and headed for the stairs. Her heels drummed a staccato as she ascended the steps. The shadows in the stairwell were cast at bizarre angles by the emergency lights and only heightened the unease that she felt.
Finally, at the roof, she saw Michael, naked, staring over the edge.
"Michael! Please step away from the edge!"
"Its okay, Doctor Holloway. I understand now."
"What do you mean?"
"I see it now. It's so grand. The pure blue flames... Malebolge..."
Michael stepped closer to the edge. Cynthia rushed to catch him, but barely missed as he fell.
The look on his face was serene as he seemed to drift to the earth below. She looked on and saw a brilliant flash of flame. Michael was consumed and disappeared in the light. The only thing that remained was the smell of sulfur.
Cynthia sat there in shock as the sun rose over Saint Dymphna. She sat on the edge of the roof laughed in desperation...
"This is Doctor Cynthia Holloway with patient number four hundred and seventy-five: Michael Theodore Tillman. Session number eight."
All that can be heard is the sound of the tape being fast forwarded.
"Don't you see, Doctor?! I sold my soul and they took my family! I... I... caused... they died because of me!"