H&S: Story Of Dorothy Oneshots

Pt. 1 Dorothy & The Murdered Patient

Dorothy and the Murdered Patient

Part One

Dorothy hated everything about The National Asylum, everything was so white. From the ceilings, to the walls, to the tiled floor that reflected the fluorescent lights. She loved color, and she was quite the expressive person when it came to her fashion style. However, all they allowed her to wear was the boring white clothes that filled her dull brown wardrobe. This was nothing but a white maximum security prison, even her window was barred, the cold outside misting the glass and making it very hard to see the world beyond.

The woman sighed as she prepared
herself for sleep, sitting under her grey cover and pulling her shiny orange hair into a tall ponytail with a rubbery band. She was going to bed early, despite the nightmares that awaited her. Memories of her old rich lifestyle, and how it was all stolen away from her by one person, or perhaps 'one organization' would be better. They killed her family, and even her servants, yet the head of this organization was also the one to thank for their fortune. However, her parents didn't wish to repay the debt, however they were supposed to (she didn't know that much really), and attempted moving away in terrified haste. They wrote diary entries about it. In fact, just before her father had his blood splattered over the pages, he had been just finishing his last diary entry.

Dorothy had went mad when she saw the bloodied, broken bodies sprawled over the floor like macabre dropped puppets. The horror and grief was so great, like a wall of bricks crashing down into her mind, that she fainted. But as her vision grew hazy, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure in the corner, growing in size as the man neared. Before she knew it, violet demon eyes glowed inches from her own, then quickly withdrew as police sirens blasted into the night air outside. When she came to, she couldn't stop wailing and babbling to the detectives about how demons killed her family. They grew frustrated that she couldn't "give them the truth" about the murderer(s) and sent her off here.

They hoped the rehabilitation would lead to her being able to properly identify the killer. But she refused to tell anything but the truth. Something unholy had been there that night.

Dorothy shuddered as she curled up on her side with her chin tucked under the cover, recalling her parents' diary entries panicking about how 'they' killed a servant each time a day nearer to their 'deadline' passed. She had thought at first, before she read the diaries, that each of the servants just quit because they weren't getting a good enough pay. That's what her parents told her. She fell asleep to the awful memories. She may have had bad night terrors, but she didn't like staying up for hours and being bored, when she wasn't being given treatment. She'd grown accustomed to the colorless interior, but the cold dull material of everything was a travesty compared to her old home: velvet, silk, satin, mahogany, all sorts of expensive fabrics and furniture. Artsy decor guests would fawn over. She missed it all so much.

Dorothy's dream was different than usual. Usually, the nightmare was about her happily going about her day as her servants, then eventually her mother and father, were killed in different ways around her. Oblivious, cheerful and sweet as always while serious amounts of blood was shed. But on the inside, Dorothy was crying as she ignored the chaos happening in the manor. Now, she had a dream about the asylum, except instead of blinding shock white, everything was a dirty gray or brown. It looked abandoned, deteriorated, decrepit. She shared the POV of someone she knew wasn't herself as they strode down a hall with flickering lights, and creeped into a room.

She saw someone sleeping, cozied up to the best of their abilities in their plain bed, cover pulled over their head. Then, after a few heavy shuddering breaths from the intruder, blood was splashed against the wall beside the obscured figure. A sickening sound of flesh being slashed wide open accompanying the disgusting wet splat.