Chapter 1

The case file was put away with care after the investigation had been closed, lack of evidence being the main excuse that the court, in deep regret, had given to the media and general public. They had swarmed over the idea of a murderous lunatic who claimed her crimes weren’t crimes at all, but acts of survival. This woman, this animal had created a complete load of bullshit that had everyone wondering if she was actually telling the truth.

To his firm belief, that’s all it was. Bullshit.

The old judge had called his career quits after the case had been shut down. Seventy and questioning his sanity nowadays, he figured forty years of dealing with nutcase trials like this had been was long enough. He had a wife and kid to think about, and even that could go soon with the way their marriage had gone south. He didn’t have time to worry about the welfare of some doctor who was very obviously sick himself and that of a woman who’d been discovered dead, a figured victim of suicide. However, the amount of medications that had been administered in the hours prior had raised suspicions of foul play. That, and the act that she’d been found bound in a straight jacket didn’t help the case of the medical staff assigned.

The remaining family was devastated and had gone after the institution so fiercely that it caught the attention of the Department of Health. They had shut down the facility and transferred hundreds; the head of staff, Dr. Howard Jameson, had also been taken into custody and swiftly admitted to psychotherapy himself. What evidence they’d found, in abundance, was…for lack of a better term, disturbing.

He hadn’t believed the stories or the report that came in, but the pictures they’d sent him filled him with so much dread that he’d been determined to see the scene for himself. He’d vomited after taking a slight glance, had run out of the room and not stopped until he’d reached the car waiting for him. He’d stayed violently sick for days, the fresh gore and horror of that room’s decorum swirling in his now-twisted mind. Hell, he was no artist but even now as he sat on his hotel-room bed, he could probably draw the horror in perfect detail. It hadn’t been your typical crime scene with blood dripping from the walls and glass everywhere. Actually, if they hadn’t gone beyond the biohazard sign it would have been an immaculately clean version of a doctor’s examination room. A lobotomy chart covered the door, as well as instructions for electroshock therapy and anatomy posters showing the cardiovascular, muscular, nervous, and skeletal systems. Not an inch of that room was left unsterilized, as was discovered by the forensic analysts when they did a search-over of the room. No crime had ever been committed in that office; the same could not be said for the room beyond the biohazardous materials warning that was in the left corner, hidden away by a secret door in the wall that they’d stumbled upon.

There began the real horror. But once again, no bloodstains or broken objects; what replaced those things were jars of preserved pieces of internal and external anatomy as well as several instruments used for medieval-style torture and cannibalistic cookbooks. Dr. Jameson was a cannibal and serial killer with a deadly passion for the mentally deranged. As the doctor had noted in one book that was kept in a shelf of recently read articles, “They taste better”. Sick b*****d, he’d thought. His nausea had only gotten worse after receiving reports about the man’s home. They practically had to quarantine the place because of the disease and rot that they’d found in not only the kitchen, but the bathroom and basement where an industrial butcher’s storeroom was kept. Rats were gnawing at desecrated bodies that littered the floor of the inside of the storeroom and basement, and the smell was something unheard of. The doctor was now on death row, but even death in the judge’s opinion wouldn’t do justice to what happened to those poor people and that woman.

He still wondered about the girl’s sanity, though. Her case file had been written by a completely different doctor, and it had enlightened them on a lot of things. As a child she’d suffered the death of her siblings and parents, had been in and out of hospitals and institutions for most of her life after suffering abuse by her adoptive parents, and finally had come into the guardianship of a young librarian who worked at the same school that she went to. There are times, he thought, where he wished he knew what went on in the girl’s mind. Was she really sick, or did she know something that doctors wanted to hide from the world? She’d always written of monsters and demons and such things in her diaries, all of which had been collected as evidence in the case. To really find out what happened to her, he’d have to read them all over again from the start, which he had done several times.

He finally settled down and calmed his mind enough to feel drowsy, so he got dressed for bed and turned out the light. Under the covers, he felt secure. Soon, it would be over and he would never have to see her face, her body again. He would tell them that he’d had enough, and then he would take his wife out to dinner and see his daughter and her husband up in Los Angeles. He drifted off to sleep for a moment, later to be awakened by a hand upon his mouth, the sound of his own screams gurgling as the metallic taste of his own blood reached his tongue and spilled from him like vomit. A laugh, belonging to a child…a little girl was the last thing he heard before all went black for the last time. He’d seen her face, grinning, a maniac admiring her handiwork.

“But you’re dead…you can’t be…”

Then screams and a deadening silence. The crazy b***h was alive…

 

One year earlier…

I’m panicking.
I’m losing my mind, and I’m pretty close to dying.
I’m unable to breathe.
I’ve always been running from what they cannot see, what they cannot hear, and what they cannot feel. With every door I run by in this place, every awful creature I pass by, I become even more frightened….but I can‘t scream. He is following me, I feel it…I know he is following me and he‘s close behind. He wants to hurt me again this time. He’s too smart to hurt me out in the open…He‘ll corner me like he did before.
He was close last time, so very, very close…I can still feel that needle slipping in my skin…
No one else will believe me. I am trapped in a place that I have never seen before except in a dream, maybe. However, what is all this that I am seeing? It is all very real, but it is also not real. It makes sense, but it also doesn‘t make sense. What they cannot see, I can. What they cannot touch, I can. I have to get out before he finds me, but I also have to avoid killing myself in the process. Right now I’m in pretty deep waters, much more literally than you might think. However let me start at the beginning. It might help you understand.

My name is Janie. I’m called J for short. I have no parents, no siblings. They all died when I was younger. I would never call my adoptive parents my “parents” either. I’m 14 years old. When I was 11, I was taken to the doctors because they told me I was acting weird. They never told me what the big words meant, but suddenly I was in a very scary looking place I‘ll call the White Room. It was creepy, but it scared out whatever weird things were going on in my head…at least for a little while. They did say it had something to do with my brain, by the way. I can’t remember what they really said about it, but I didn’t care either. I got out of there.
My mom and dad were alive at the time and they paid a lot of money to make them release me. I was so happy to see them again. We checked out at the doctor’s office and left in the little SUV that Mom had ever since I was a baby while they told me how they knew nothing could be wrong.
The next few moments have always been foggy, and I can’t remember anything but the sounds. It was dark, too, and that didn’t help. All I heard was Mommy and Daddy telling me to get down, get down, the screeching of tires, the creaking and crunching of metal, and my mom and dad’s screams. Those screams I’ll always remember. I ended up having to call 911, and they came only to tell me my mom and dad were dead. That day is what I call “the accident” because they kept calling it a motor accident, and because the driver didn’t mean to hurt my mom and dad.
He even drove me back home to my brother and sister, who were trying their best not to cry but to comfort me. It never did hit me fully, what happened that night. It still doesn’t, really. They say it was my fault.
It made me so mad that I started cutting things. I’d cut the wallpaper, the heads off of dolls and teddy bears. Brother and Sister never saw, I made a good point of hiding the knife and my cuts. They never suspected it, because they were just like Mom and Dad. They didn’t believe there was anything wrong.
The next week or so, I started going back to the school my parents had withdrawn me from. I would sneak out during the school day just to be with my brother and sister. I didn’t, and still don’t, like being alone. I hated it because I kept seeing ugly, scary things in my room and the rest of the house. Blood, weird looking creatures…it was terrifying so I always ran to them. I never told them, though, because I knew they’d send me back to the awful White Room. That thought alone scared me more than the terrifying things I saw. I’d hide in the library, and I’d read and write. I’d even draw sometimes, but not often. My drawings made everyone go white in the face and start walking away. I thought they were masterpieces, but everyone else told me I was sick. I’d feel my forehead and say, “I’m fine” just to prove I wasn’t. Now I’m regretting doing that, because a few weeks later is when I discovered something bad was going on.
I liked to read, right? I’d read anything I could get my hands on. Well, about three weeks from the Accident, I picked up a newspaper that had the headline “Kidnapped Asylum Patient Still At Large: Highly Dangerous”. I read some more, scared that this bad person might come and find me. What made me mad, mad to the point of getting into the mess I’m currently in, was the first paragraph:

“Janie Marie Geraldine was immediately placed in the hospital after tests revealing that she is a paranoid schizophrenic, has violent tendencies, and is prone to hallucinations of the auditory and visual form. She held her doctors at knifepoint demanding her release, escaping from her room and drove away in silver SUV. After killing her parents by lacerations to the jugular vein with a kitchen knife, she ran from authorities and is taking refuge somewhere in the city. She is highly dangerous and armed. If you have any information on this case, please call…”

I crumpled up the page after that. I didn’t dare read the number. First of all, they were lying. My parents had picked me up, how could and why would I kill them? It was a car crash…Every bit of it didn’t make sense at all. This happened nearly three weeks ago…why did they care so much now? I picked up my coat and sketchpad, walking nearly five miles to the school as I did nearly every day.

I barely remember being so mad that I sought out my siblings, who I knew were inside because it was time for their classes.

The first thing I noticed was there were policemen covering nearly every inch of the front of the school, handing pictures of me out asking random kids if they knew who I was. Most would shake their head, but the ones I knew would nod. They’d ask when the last time any of them had seen me was, and they’d shrug. “She’s been gone a long time,” one of them said.
Darn right, I had been.
I wasn’t about to let them find me now. I snuck to the back entrance of the library, smiling to find it unlocked. I crept inside the old door and wandered my way through to the isle that peeked into the main room, and I was even more surprised to find there was not a police officer asking anyone questions.
I quickly ran inside, hiding under the table before anyone had a chance to see me. Still, the noise I’d made had triggered some stirring in the silence. “Who’s there?” I could hear, as well as footsteps. It relieved me to find the librarian was there, she always liked me very much. She crouched down and I prepared to spring, to hide again. It was clear I’d have to run all the time now, with all of this going on. She smiled at me when she lifted the tablecloth and motioned for me to come out, so I did. There were a few gasps and a couple murmurs about “it’s the crazy,” and such things, but otherwise no general screaming or running for lives. She took me to the second isle so we could talk.
“What’s going on, J? Are you the patient they keep talking about in the newspapers?” The woman asked; her name was Mrs. Haley.
“Yeah, but I don’t understand all the big words they’re saying about me. Why are they looking for me, what did I do?” The words came out in a rushed whisper, and I was starting to cry.
Just before she could answer, there was a small orange glow in the isle next to us; it was the third isle. I heard screams of “Fire!” and running footsteps. The fire alarm went off, but the old librarian stayed put. She started to grin, and that made me uneasy all over again. When she made a grab for me, her arms turned into awful stick-like gooey things covered in scales, her fingers like claws reaching to tear at my skin. I ran, and with every step, the floor started to change. The isles became confusing, unfamiliar paths that I did not know how to navigate, and the once-carpet flooring that I loved so much turned into hard stone tiles that were an ugly blood color. Silver grooves in the flooring burst into flames at some of the corners, making me scream as I kept running and running, praying I’d make it out alive.
When I got to the fifth isle, I was face to face with a person with no face, and covered in flames. It was a woman’s body, but she had no hands or feet. She glided along the silver grooves, but she did not hurt me. Instead, I heard follow and she turned her back on me to go into the next isle. I did not have time to lose, as flames were engulfing the books around me, and I ran after the creature. She led me from isle to isle, burning everything that came in her way. Was she the thing that started the fire? I kept that question in mind when we got to the very last isle, which did not look like the last isle at all. It just went on and on, confusing me even more and frustrating the hound out of me. When did all this get so weird? She said up, and before I knew it, she was carrying me! I screamed and flailed like I was being burnt…but that’s just it. I wasn’t being burned at all. It was a cool, almost chilly feeling, and in the blink of an eye, we were at the end of the isle facing a very odd contraption. It was like a table, but it had buttons on it, and a lot of lights. Press them, she hissed in a hurried tone. A bad man is following us.
Bad man following was the sentence I’d very much liked not to hear.
I looked behind me, and there he was. The creepy, smiling doctor that was there to give me pills every day while I was in the White Room. I hated those pills. They always made me sleepy. He was not smiling at this moment in time, and looked very angry. Even worse was he looked scarier than usual. His white coat was now grey and white, from ashes probably, and his hair was singed. He was screaming, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying. I didn’t care. I quickly pressed the first button, then the next, and a little panel opened on the table-contraption-thing. It read ‘needle‘ in big red lettering. I didn’t understand. Where was I going to get a needle? I looked at the fire-girl creature, which was already halfway down the aisle attacking the doctor. Just as he was starting to win, the creature split into two! Two fire people were attacking him now, and he was starting to back off. The second one took something small and long out of his coat pocket, gliding back to me to place it in my hands. It was a syringe with a needle attached, a gold-tinged liquid up to 50 milliliters inside. I knew what that stuff was, but I didn’t want to think about that right now. I stuck the needle into the very small hole right under the red letters, and the wall beside me started to glow a little underneath the bookcase. A bright light streamed into what looked like a doorframe, and a knob appeared. I looked at the fire creature, who shrieked go!
I didn’t hesitate.
I found a lock on the other side when I got through the door, just in time to see the doctor was close behind and to see the flame people disappear. I was sad to see them go, and said goodbye to them just before I locked the door. Then I ran again.
I looked around, and it was strangely similar to being in a hospital the way the hall was painted. It was a creepy dingy white, more like an ugly light yellow. No one was around, and I didn’t see anything until I got farther past some of the curves and turns. There were a couple doors, one marked CIA and the other simply blank, but locked to my dismay. I didn’t dare go into the CIA marked one, because I knew those were bad people. Mom and Dad, even big brother and sister told me they were. I kept running and I finally saw a big open door, like you’d see in a cafeteria. I sprinted inside, hearing a door bust open a long ways away from where I was. He’d unlocked the damn door! But how?
There was a man sitting at a desk in the gigantic room that I’d entered, and I ran to him, getting on my knees with my best begging effort. “Please, sir, you have to help me! Someone’s following me and I need help getting out of here!”
“Miss, the assistance desk is in the front,” was all the man droned, going back to his computer work.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I’M GOING TO BE KILLED IF HE FINDS ME HERE!” I screamed at him, getting in his face, my face already wet and red from crying in panic.
“Miss, the assistance desk is in the front. I can’t help you,” the man droned again, still typing away. I could hear footsteps, and decided I wouldn’t waste my time with the man. But just as I started running, I saw the back of the man’s head. Gears were turning, and there was no brain. He was a robot? He was a freaking robot! I laughed in anger and panic as I sprinted out of the big room. As I exited that area and entered the next, I found myself very much confused again. I slammed the big doors behind me, which were very heavy, and barricaded them closed with a bunch of metal poles that were about three inches thick. Where I found them was not a concern now, but I didn’t forget the question. Something just really wasn’t right about this.
It looked like a grocery store. No, it wasn’t really like that. More like a Sears or a Wal-Mart. It had to be a big one at that. Then again, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen.
Tall, towering shelves that looked like skyscrapers the more I stared at them shot all the way into the ceiling, which was, weirdly enough, covered in a purple hazy fog. It was like clouds, but denser. I even thought I saw birds fly around in there.
Extremely tall stick figures that resembled trees without leaves were putting things into these shelves, giant boxes filled with goodness-knows-what. I giggled at the sight of one of the stick people having trouble stacking the box onto another one because it was too tall. When I turned back around to look ahead of me, one of them was staring right into my face. I screamed and fell over, making the tall thing smile and reach out to help me up. I took its hand, stumbling back onto my feet.
Welcome, it said, a faraway echo-like tone in its voice. It sounded like a young boy, but an old man at the same time. I waved, unable to catch my breath enough to speak. The thing handed me a glass of water, and I smiled, taking a sip.
“Thanks,” I managed to croak and it nodded at me, taking my hand again to lead me away from the door. I could hear footsteps again, and I knew it was that crazy doctor. I think the thing felt me starting to panic, because it had one of the other stick-people weld the door shut. That made me incredibly happy and I thanked them both at least a hundred times. They nodded, like they couldn’t talk, but I knew they could. When they did talk, it was like they were in my ears. Or my brain, whatever. I liked it. They calmed me down a lot, and I usually don’t like people that much. Then again, they weren’t really people.
They told me they were simply called Tree-its, because of their stick-like appearance, and that they were the keepers of items found in The Maze Dimension.
“What’s the Maze Dimension?” I asked, sitting down in a rather plush velvet chair while one of them sat across from me.
The Maze Dimension is the world you’ve found yourself in, the creature told me, and I nodded in understanding. At least now, I knew where I was. That much cleared up. Still, I had to ask, “How did I get here?”
That we don’t know. It isn’t often that a human like yourself crosses paths with us. Most of them think it’s a dream, but it’s the farthest thing from the truth. You seem to realize it is real, so maybe…just maybe, you can help us. The figure looked uneasy, even worried. It placed one of its “hands” on mine, as if comforting me. The hand felt like tree bark, with a rough surface that scratched my skin a little.
“Help you with what?” I asked, intrigued and inspired by an adventure. Maybe this was going to be more fun than I thought.
We need to find the key.
“What key?”
The key to the door you came in from. We can’t risk any more humans coming here, or we’ll fade to nothing.
This made me upset. Not only could I not come back after all this was over, but they would disappear if I did. I felt terrible all of a sudden, like I’d done the worst thing in the world.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to say, and the creature smiled softly.
You were chosen to come here. Don’t underestimate yourself, and you’ll find the Key and your way back home. You’re a lot stronger than you think. Come, I have something that will help you in your journey.
I nodded and it led me to a long hallway, reaching up to the highest shelf on one of the skyscraper bookshelf-things. It withdrew a small bag, about the size of a pea in the thing’s hand, but the right size and weight for me to carry without any trouble.
You’ll find use for all of this, it told me as it led me away from the shelf and to another door. We’ll be here when you need us, always.
It unlocked the door with a peculiar looking key. The part of it that unlocked the door was shaped like a broken heart with a keyhole inside itself. I was just about to ask what it meant before the Tree-it pushed me gently through the opening and shut the door behind me, leaving me in a very odd-looking hallway. No pictures were on the walls, only warping voids that seemed in constant, sickening motion. It was like waves in the sea when you’re on a boat, and you just happen to be sea sick. There were also a bunch of doors. The first door was marked ’Fear’, and what caught my eye was all the doors were marked in gilded lettering. The next one read ‘Anger‘, and the next ‘Paranoia’, and the others too far away to be legible.
The other doors followed suit; there had to be at least a million of them. Was this my mind? I thought about that for a second before remembering there was nothing wrong with me. I chuckled uneasily for a second before making my way toward the first door.

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Whoa. I'm hooked already. This is incredible so far - can't wait to keep reading the next chapters!...