Facial Bones that Puncture Skin

Lady goes to an inn...or is she going into an inn? S****y a*s description, I know...but I'm a bit rusty, lol

Despite its spacious, Victorian appearance, I sensed some dark evil somewhere within the depths of the inn. It was nothing like the brochure my husband had slid hesitantly over the dining room table. He had said it would be a haven, somewhere I could escape the stress of caring for our three children. He ensured me it was only temporary, but looking at the barred windows and the false smiles on the faces of the white clad personnel, I believed differently.

I entered cautiously and walked hesitantly toward the front desk, where I was greeted by a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman. “Hi, and who might you be?”

“Maria Lincoln,” I said curtly. “My husband called in. He said you accepted my reservation and I could arrive at 10 a.m. today.”

The kind woman said, “Yes, Lincoln at 10 a.m. You may go to your room.” She slid a small manila envelope across the table, the number 425 embossed along the front. “The elevator is down the hall and to the right. Enjoy your stay Mrs. Lincoln.” Her small smile unnerved me; a shiver ran down my spine. I slowly ambled down the hall, my boots clicking on the cold tile floor. The hall smelled strangely of disinfectant, as one would find in a hospital. The elevator was just as unwelcoming as the hall; the inside was vandalized and the machine creaked with age.

By the time I reached the fourth floor I felt quite dizzy. A brief lapse of vertigo seized me. I stumbled to a small, padded bench, collapsing on top of it. A man, nearing his eighties, appeared in the dim light of the hall.  He must have exited his room. He noticed me. “Hello there! I see we have a new friend.” He took no heed in taking up my personal space, sitting beside me on that little bench. “They treat us good here. I’ve been here for…well…I don’t quite remember how many years now. Mr. Freud says that I’ve been getting much better and that I can visit my wife again.”

“Wait, why can’t you leave now?” I chuckled quietly, “This is an inn isn’t it? Some type of a day spa?”

“No missus.” The strange old man stated. “Mr. Freud tells us when we can leave. He keeps us safe.” As I began to tremble, he pulled at his thick beard, as if willing his brain to function. “You must have had a recommendation to come here. Only certain people get to stay here. I bet everyone would if they could, but you gotta be special. Who called you in?”

My blue eyes widened and glimmered with tears, “My husband.” I said, talking more or less to myself. “Why would he lie to me? He told me this was an inn, a relaxation spa, where I could take a break from the kids. Why would he send me to a prison?”

“I don’t rightly know, missus.” The man answered: it was an unwarranted response. I began to cry; my husband had abandoned me. Sobs and wails flew from my throat. “There, there missus,” the old man said, patting my shoulders like a sympathetic grandfather. “You’ll come to enjoy the place.”

Due to the megahertz  of sound produced from my wails, a man in a long white coat strode toward me. He had a kind face, a bald head, and a thick black beard. “Thank you for greeting our new friend, Mr. Lowell. If you could go back to your room, I believe your food is being delivered.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Freud, sir!” Mr. Lowell replied with a child-like salute.

“You’re Mr. Freud?” I asked, trying my best to conceal my dislike for my warden.

“Indeed I am. You must be Mrs. Lincoln.” He held out his hand.

“Yes. I am.” I hesitantly embraced his hand.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you down in the commons for dinner. It is just to the left of the entrance.” He released my hand. “I must be off to check on some of our more volatile guests.” He left, with a parting smile. I was alone. Above me, fluorescent lights flickered. I felt a migraine beginning to bloom in my temples. I didn’t trust the place, but thought it may be best to lie down.

I grabbed my overnight bag and crept across the hall. I shakily slid the key card into the lock, heard a quiet click, and entered. The room felt more hospitable than anything I had seen in the “inn” thus far.  It contained two full size beds with artsy, pleasant bed spreads. The walls were a pale blue; the carpet was white. A door led to a small bathroom. I set down my overnight bag to investigate.

The bathroom was as one would assume it would be. There was a toilet and sink. Over the sink, a mirror was hung. I saw my sallow face in the mirror, my skin pulled tautly over my bony skull. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the mirror was a medicine cabinet. It was unlatched, so I pulled it open. I gasped when I saw what it contained.

Bottles of prescription pills flooded my vision. I didn’t know what they were for. I saw their scientific monikers (aripiprazole, clozaril, geodon…), but couldn’t place their functions. It wouldn’t have matter if I could. There was only one logical reason why there were so many pills in the medicine cabinet of my room. They were trying to drug me. Perhaps my husband had phoned the wrong inn, and I’d ended up in a ward for godforsaken medical experimentation. Of course, it had to be that!

My migraine was worsening by the second, but it didn’t matter. I had a knife in my overnight bag; a knife I had packed for self defense. I would go down to the commons area and feign eating (after all they probably drugged the food). If I was questioned I would slit my interrogator’s throat. In the end, I would slit Mr. Freud’s throat and free the other prisoners. What a brilliant idea!

I went into the bedroom and dug through my overnight bag. Underneath my black undergarments, I found the compact pocket knife I always carried.  I slide it into the sleek, elegant heeled boots upon my feet, so the blade was perpendicular to the floor. I smoothed out my sundress and exited the room, quiet and composed.

As I walked down the hall, I heard a sound of another door closing behind me.. I didn’t want to turn around, thinking it could be Mr. Freud or one of his minions. I kept walking, as briskly as I could without tripping on the tile floor.

As I was about to reach the stairwell, a shadow flickered in front of my line of vision. I jumped away from the door. The shadow, bulbous and disfigured, remained on the door. “It’s just my shadow.” I whispered to myself.         

“Keep telling yourself that!”  A mocking voice shouted. I jumped, scanning the corridor for any sign of anyone. I was alone…yet icy fingers crawled the way up my back. I turned around, crushing the shadow as a minute woman spun me around. She had sallow skin, dark hair, and her facial bones punctured through her skin. She must have weighed ninety pounds.

“Where did you come from?” I whispered, trembling.

“I’m wherever you are, darling. I’m your strength when you are weak; your emotion when you’re numb.” She smiled, bones slicing through her face, her teeth as sharp as fangs.

“I don’t understand…”

“You’re frightened.” It was not a question.

“Yes. Can’t I just go to dinner?”

“To dinner, with a knife in your pocket?” The knife materialized in her hand, and she pinned it against my throat. “You’re much too weak to kill Freud. How about I do it for you? Of course, I’ll have to kill you first, but it’ll be the only way you ever get out.”

“I’ll tell Dan…” I state, trying to squirm out of her grasp.

“You’re husband? He sent you here. He wanted to protect you from me.” She smiled, and I noticed the rotting flesh clinging to her teeth.

“You’re lying! Who are you?” I screamed, wishing Dan was here, instead of this she-devil.

“I am your better half.” With a flick of her wrist, she slashed at my face with the pocket knife. A red blur formed from my forehead to my chin, my eye and lip torn open. I shrieked.

“Stop! Stop! Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you won’t let me out to have fun!” She gouged my stomach and threw me into the wall.

^^^^^^

When I awoke, I was laying on a gurney. I was attached to an IV pole, a bag of blood being feed into my aching body. I was in a hospital room. Outside the barred windows, I could here birds singing, but all they sounded like to me were the ugly caws of crows. A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.” I said briskly, my stomach clenching with raw pain. Mr. Freud entered the room. “Stay back you monster!”, while throwing the IV to the ground. The needle tore out of my wrist, blood spurted onto the floor. Mr. Freud sighed.

“It’s a good thing your husband sent you here Mrs. Lincoln.” He picked the needle of the ground and hung it onto the IV pole.

“Why? So I can be experimented upon?” I screamed, uncontrolled. “So I can be attacked by women with bones poking out of their face? So you can force your drugs on me?” My breathing was heavy, my stomach seared as I started to hyperventilate.

“No,” he said sadly, “so you can be safe. You’ve been hallucinating.” He tried to grab my hand to comfort me, but I yanked it away.

“Hallucinations can’t attack someone!”

“You’re right, but your husband didn’t want you to hurt yourself. The corridor was empty except for you and the knife. Don’t you understand you stabbed yourself? “He asked gently.

“You’re a liar!”

“Did you have a migraine before you saw this woman; that’s a symptom you know.”

“SHUT UP!” I roared. “Let me go! I’m fine. It’s this place that’s insane!” I was starting to panic. Ignoring the pain, I bolted upwards, reaching for Mr. Freud’s neck. Two strong orderlies burst into the room and forced me into bed. I kicked them, but they secured me with tight leather straps. I struggled, trying to break them, shaking the bed.

I saw Dr. Freud pull out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. I knew at that moment they were going to kill me, euthanize me with some potent drug. “Don’t kill me, please!” I whimpered, “I just want to see my family again.

“You will in time Mrs. Lincoln. We aren’t going to kill you. This is a mild sedative, so you don’t rip open the stitching on your wounds.” Lies, Lies! I began to cry as he drew the needle closer to my veins. He put his hand on my head, “There is nothing to worry about; you are safe here.” I felt the needle pierce my skin and howled in anguish. He continued to rub my hair as I struggled to ward off the blackness. I could not ward off the blackness.

Author's Note

Please give me some feedback on structure and language. Thanks!

Reviews

[Jess.]

Creepy. . .I like it!