Make It Stop by LLSanders
"Here, take these and have a rest." My nurse hands me a tiny plastic cup. The dull florescent light in my room reflects off the coating of the two white tablets inside, and I swallow the pills with ease. "They're not real, Bethany." The deep creases between her eyebrows reveals her concern.
However, her unease doesn't stop me from reliving last night's encounter in my mind. I remember waking in the middle of the night to a dozen of those hideous creatures encircling my bed. Half of them were so tall their bodies curved into question marks as their necks and backs grazed the ceiling, allowing them to fit into my tiny space. Then without warning, off they'd gone, vanishing through the brick wall, scraping their chipped claws along the tiled floor as they went.
Are they a real threat? Or are they just results of an overactive imagination and a few screws loose in my head?
"Are you sure?" I narrow my eyes, scrutinizing, and openly revealing my doubt. "They're tall, thin, dark and shadowy. Limbs so long their claws leave deep grooves in the tile floors as they walk. I smell them before I see them, you know. Like burnt sugar. They seep through walls like smoke through—"
"Stop." My nurse gasps. She glares, but her bottom lip trembles as she stands. "Enough with the nonsense already." And just like that, she's out the door. The handle rattles as she fumbles with the key to lock it. It may not have been my first sit-down with Nurse Jane, but it is the first time she showed anger.
Or was that fear?
Alone in the windowless room, I contemplate my reality once again. What if everyone is right and those disturbing, grotesque creatures are part of my imagination? If the monsters disappear after taking the pills then they must be something my mind conjures up. The medicine had always kept those creatures at bay, which is why I never give Nurse Jane hell about taking them.
I appreciate the nurses and their help and advice, even if at times their guidance seems to contradict my own thoughts or beliefs. Still, I know they are looking out for me and my wellbeing. Looking out for me is a burden my family could no longer handle. So Nurse Jane and the others have a special spot in my heart for all they've done and continue to do.
However, what if they are wrong? What if what I'm seeing aren't visions but are real? Lately, my mind's been teetering on the answer. Are they right? Are they wrong?
There were many times throughout my life, especially my teenage years, where I questioned my beliefs in comparison to my nightmarish hallucinations. There were so many times where I'd wake up to a wet bed in fright, and had to fight the same urge during the day. Living in such crippling fear was mental and emotional torture I wouldn't wish on anyone. Thanks to the medicine, I had years of living a normal, stress-free life, even if it was in a psychiatric ward.
I never complained.
Not once.
A stir outside my door demands my attention. I press my ear to the thick metal to hear the whispers of Nurse Jane and Sarah, her ward assistant.
"This has been going on for far too long." Nurse Jane's voice cracks and catches. "It's getting more frequent. And you know what? I really don't think the meds are helping."
"Well, shit." Sarah sighs and a long pause follows. "What are we gonna do? We gotta do something. We can't just let this go on."
"The only thing we can do is assure her those things aren't real."
"Black ink leaks from their empty eye sockets?" Sarah huffs and I imagine the look of pity on her face. "It's just so terrible. So gruesome."
"Sshh." Jane's voice rises a bit. "Don't entertain it."
I step away from the door and stand in the center of the dimly lit room.
The nurse even thinks the medicines are useless. Just as I fear. They're not fixing me at all. Am I going to have to live with these nightmarish visions for days until they change medicines, or up the dosage, or—
I'm hit with chills that rush to the tips of my extremities as the sudden realization creeps in. If my medicine stops working, if it already has, then…
The nauseating stench of burnt sugar hits my nostrils. The odor resembles scorched molasses bubbling over the brim of a cast iron cauldron. I pivot to see a growing blackness seeping in from the corners of the room, spreading like a pool of liquid tar until nothing but darkness envelopes me.
Out of the blackness, a dark, misshapen appendage creeps through the obstacles beyond the tar and approaches me. My heart leaps to my throat and I take a few steps back until my spine rests against the door.
My head spins from the smell and the horrific sight before me. I close my eyes, trying desperately to will the image and the smell away. I envision my room the way it was seconds ago; comfortable, isolated, welcoming, safe. The dense energy in the atmosphere gradually lightens, and I squeeze my lids tighter until my temples ache and throb. I imagine the darkness disappearing back into the corners of the room, the dim light returning to illuminate the area surrounding me, blanketing me in its bright protection.
From the other side of the door, Sarah sniffs. "What's that stink?"
I gasp. She smells it too?
"You smell that?" Nurse Jane acknowledges. "I thought it was just me."
"Oh, God!" The words come out of me before my actions register. My eyes snap open as the door pushes from behind and hurls me to the floor with a thump.
The look on Sarah's face as the creature tangles its narrow digits and sharp claws around her neck shoots icy shards of panic induced adrenaline through my veins. Screams echo from down the hall, and my only escape is through the door and into the very space where the howling originates.
"Make it stop," Jane screams. Her fingers twist into her short curls atop her head, and she pulls the strands in utter terror. "Please, make it stop!"
My heartbeat triples, nearly bursting from my aching ribcage as my sights set on the far side of the hall. Near the arched window at the end of the long, darkened corridor, a second misty creature crouches. Its darkness drowns out most of the dull streetlight that seeps through from beyond the glass. Its head hangs down from the curve of its back, while a dense, ink-like substance pours over the rims of its hollow eye sockets. It comes forward, moving its body in a snake-like pattern across the hallway tiles.
Nurse Jane's high-pitched scream pierces my eardrums. I cover my ears, watching in horror as the horrid monster coats her in the icky goo from head to toe. The snaps and crackles of her flesh searing off her bones matches her screams in intensity, and the putrid stench quickly overpowers any trace of burnt sugar in the air.
I sprint down the hall toward the district exit. Every room I pass is vacant, its inhabitants nowhere in sight as if the space had been empty for days. I rush the double doors at the end of the corridor to exit the main ward, and instead of opening, my body slams against them. With a closed fist I pound the door. "Help! Somebody, open the door."
The screams fade behind me, and when I turn, several pitch-black figures clutter the end of the hall. Their necks twist against the ceiling, their claws scrape the floor, and mysterious goo spills over the dark holes where their eyes should be. They wait as if watching, assessing, and calculating their next move.
Will they rush me and turn me into a pile of bones and scorched flesh like Nurse Jane has become. I press my back against the doors to anchor myself to something solid since reality wasn't a sure option. The sights, sounds, and smells overwhelm my senses, but unlike a terrible nightmare, I have yet to wake up from this.
The figures begin to move, squirming their way past the empty rooms, cloaking the florescent lights above in their darkness. My jaw drops but the scream catches in my throat. My knees buckle underneath me but I balance, debating if I should drop to the floor and accept my fate or run and try for safety.
But with creatures who are able to seep through walls like smoke, and torture in the most terrible ways, was there such a thing as safety? Just a few minutes ago Nurse Jane and the rest told me there was no such thing as the creatures who now stand before me as real as the hell they raised.
Once again, I close my eyes. This time, accepting my fate.
But just like before, the doors behind me open. Instead of collapsing, I balance and turn to rush into the arms of a man in a white lab jacket as the doors close behind me.
A sense of ease hits me once I'm out of that zone. The brightness of the large room blinds me, but for a second I embrace the warmth and security the light exudes.
"Bethany, it's okay." The man assures me. "You're just hallucinating. You're fine." He gently cradles my head against his burly chest.
"But they're dead," I cry, tears blurring my vision. "I just saw them die. It's real. They're real, and they're coming."
"No, no. Listen." His voice is soothing and calm as he cups my face in his palms like a fragile flower petal. "It's only your imagination. You've imagined the entire thing. They're not real, Bethany." His eyes dart to the doors at my back, and then to me again.
He seems so sure. His voice and his touch works like magic at calming my nerves, but as soon as I go over what my eyes just witnessed the erratic beat of my heart and the fear returns.
I shake my head. "I know what I saw. The nurses even smelled them. They're real. They're real. They all are real!"
"What happened to the nurses are part of your imagination too."
"No." Even my nightmares were never that detailed. "Don't you hear them? Their claws? Can't you smell them, their stench? Don't you feel them getting closer?"
"Listen, Bethany." His eyes widen and he struggles to keep his gaze from the doors at my back. "Listen to me carefully. They'll all go away if you stop believing." His voice quivers, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. "They won't hurt you. They're a part of you. They'll never do you any harm, but only you can make them stop hurting others. Only you can make it stop, Bethany. Make it stop by thinking them out of existence. You can do it."
"Wha—what?" I stumble back at his confession. Did I just hear him correctly? Has he just confirmed my fear? Did he just give credence to my visions? "You know I've been telling the truth. You know that those things really exist—"
"The meds can't suppress your manifestations anymore." He drops to his knees, fear shows on his face as his eyebrows pull together. Glistening tears hover on the rims of his lower eyelids, reminding me of the goo in the hollow orbs of the creatures. "It's in your power now. Please, Bethany. They're not real. Say it. Go on, say it."
I can't speak. Terror paralyzes me. The only sound I make is a high-pitched whine I can't control. My mind no longer controls my emotions, and I no longer control my mind as utter terror seizes me.
He's telling the truth. They ARE real.
"Please, Bethany." He grips my forearms and shakes. "Say it out loud. They're not real. Say it. Go on. Say it!"
The doors burst open behind me, and before I can react, darkness rushes past. The stench of scalded sugar hits my nostrils more powerful than anything I've ever experienced, and the vulgar grating of sharp claws against tile twists and churns my insides with fear. The horror encasing my body is not enough to drown out the screams of absolute agony in the pitch-black surrounding me.
The End