Asylum Escape

Asylum Escape
By: Madison Hatter1

He opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling.
He listened for a moment, to the intercom calling various doctors to various places, to the screams from other rooms, to the laughing of some and the pain of others. He took it all in. One at a time. Then all at once, to see what stood out most.
He rose from the bed and observed his surroundings. These were the things his hearing could not detect, silent objects that hid from his ears, revealing themselves to his eyes only. A barred window, another plain white bed with the same white sheets and pillows, set by the same white walls with the same white ceiling. A bed-stand with a glass of water; half empty, not half full.
He then walked out of the room and into the hallway. He wandered down the hallway, the same white hallway, not going anywhere particular.
He stopped.
A camera.
He looked at it closely. It wasn’t there yesterday, he was fairly certain. It moved while he slept. He knew it did. It watched him where he went, and it recorded what he did. It moved when he did, and it remained ever vigilant of all his actions.
A hand touched his shoulder. He concentrated for a brief moment. He could hear the man’s shallow breathing; the slow inhales and exhales of air that most people didn’t bother to listen for. By this alone he knew it was Dr. Thurman.
”John, what are you doing?”
”Camera.” He answered, pointing up to the corner the camera was mounted in. He half-expected it to have moved again, but it stayed where it was. Watching him. It did, after all, have to keep watch of him. He often wondered if he was the only one it watched. Did other cameras watch other patients?
”John, I don’t see a camera.” The doctor lied.
”Neither do I.” John stated simply. He would have to play along. If the camera knew what he was up to… “I meant that there should be a camera there.”
”Our security is fine.” Dr. Thurman replied without so much as glancing up. He began walking down the hallway.
”Yes,” John said, chancing one last look at the camera, “of course it is…”
Dr. Thurman led John Redfield down the halls of Aaronsville Mental Asylum, the place where he’d lived the past three years of his life. They walked without speaking. John would close his eyes from time to time and try to follow Dr. Thurman by the sounds of his footsteps alone, but the narrow hallways played with the sounds and echoes, making it hard to judge distance and location.
John opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling and walls. They were, of course, white. Void of any attempts of decoration or creativity, these were also things only his sight would reveal to him. These were things he would not miss when his sight was gone.
John Redfield lived in constant fear of losing his sight. This is known as Scotomaphobia. Because of this, he was constantly honing his hearing skills. He would need them.
Dr. Thurman led John into an elevator. They were going to another floor. John instinctively looked to the top corners of the elevator, searching for the camera. It wasn’t there. Not this time. Was it because Dr. Thurman was watching him?
They waited patiently as the elevator led them up the different floors, finally stopping at the fifth floor. John lived on the third.
As the doors opened, he was almost overwhelmed by the sudden noise and commotion. It was more apparent on this floor: suffering. Dr. Thurman led him out of the elevator and through the main room where all the patients resided.
John looked at them individually as he passed by. An old woman in a rocking chair sewing an imaginary sweater, a man rambling off numbers in repeated sequences, and another man, simply staring blankly into space. He saw it all, and it made him sick. He wasn’t like them, was he?
”Am I?” a man suddenly grabbed John by the arm, a pleading look in his eye, “Am… am I a good person? I am, aren’t I? I-I have to be! Right?”
Before John had a chance to answer, a young female doctor came over and led the man away.
”Here we are.” Dr. Thurman said suddenly, stopping by a white door with the number 334 in large silver letters above it’s frame. He dug in his pocket for his keys, finally fishing them out and flipping through the set for the correct one. He stuck the key in the lock, which was placed in the middle of the doorknob. He then turned the key and the doorknob in unison before opening the door, pulling out the key, and putting it back in his left pocket.
The room didn’t look much different than any other of the many rooms he’d been in. It was plain white, once again void of creation or beauty. He entered the room wearily, looking from side to side, and then once again at the top corners of the room.
”We’re going to rid you of that nasty fear of yours.” Dr. Thurman replied.
”How’s that?” John asked, eyeing a red chair placed in the middle of the room suspiciously. It was the only piece of furniture in the room, and looked out of place compared to the plain white walls.
”Just sit down, John. Sit down, and relax.” The doctor responded kindly.
John sat down, still looking for some sign of a trap. It was at this point that John noticed there were no windows in this room. Not even barred ones.
‘That’s strange…’ He thought.
”Close your eyes, and count to ten. Then open them again.”
”That’s it?”
”That’s it.” Dr. Thurman assured him, “just don’t forget you’re not alone. I’m here.”
”Why would I forget that?”
”It’s part of the new therapy program.” He responded vaguely, “Now close your eyes and count.”
John shut his eyes, gripping the arms of the chair gently.
One…
Two…
Three…
He heard the door shut, and all of the noise from the outside world vanished in an instant.
Four…
Five…
Six…
He heard a small click! He flinched slightly, but kept his eyes closed.
Seven…
Eight…
Nine…
He loosened his grip on the chair’s arms, ready to open his eyes.
Ten.
He opened his eyes.
No!
It was dark.
There was absolutely no light whatsoever. The only thing he saw was blackness. He concentrated on his hearing for a slight moment, but it didn’t help any. There was no sound.
His breathing became more rapid. He held out his right hand in front of him, waving it in front of each of his eyes in some hope of seeing at least a silhouette, but to no avail. It was still as dark as before, and dreadfully silent.
”No!” he said, standing up with his hands in front of him. His voice echoed strangely. “Dr. Thurman?” he asked, “Dr. Thurman!”
”It’s okay, John. I’m right here.” Dr. Thurman’s voice echoed through the darkness. He didn’t know where from, though. The walls played with the echoes, played with the sounds. Played with his mind.
”Help!” John shouted, groping at the air in a blind panic. “Help!” he shouted again.
”John, calm down!” Dr. Thurman’s voice said. “There’s no one here except you and me!”
”I’ve gone blind! I’ve gone blind! I can’t see!” John shouted.
”You’re not blind.” Suddenly, there was a click, and a blinding light shortly after. His pupils dilated as the light poured into his eyes, blinding him once again, but in a different sense. He fell to his knees, covering his eyes with his hands, waiting for them to adjust. “I just turned off the lights.” John looked through squinted eyes to see Dr. Thurman standing by a light switch.
That’s not what shocked him, though.
The camera. He opened his eyes wide in horror, ignoring the blistering pain the light caused after being in total darkness.
It hadn’t been there before, but it was there now. Placed surreptitiously above the door, watching him closely through a black lens. Had it been there when it was dark? Had it seen how he reacted? Did it know his one true fear now?
All these questions and more swarmed through his head as he stared at the camera that so idly watched his every move. It was what plagued his life at the asylum, it was what made him want to get out so badly, and it was what he hated-and feared-more than anything else in the entire building.
A simple security camera.
”John!” he snapped to reality, turning to Dr. Thurman who’d been holding the door open. “Are you coming? Or do you want to stay in here for another hour or so?” the doctor threatened, having finally lost his patience.
”I’m coming.” He said, walking towards the door, but all the while keeping his eye on the camera. It didn’t move. Not even to follow his walk to the door. It always stared straight ahead, remaining still until he wasn’t looking. That was when it moved.
Dr. Thurman led him back to the elevator, where John walked past the patients of the fifth floor once again, leaving the dreaded room 334. He looked, almost surprised to find the camera in the top right elevator corner, watching him again.
He managed to hide his surprise, though.
”Do…” John paused, thinking about how to phrase the question unsuspiciously. “Do you have a marker?”
”What for?” Dr. Thurman snapped angrily. What had put him in such a bad mood all of a sudden?
”Just… to have.” John said, faking a bit of fear. He knew all the nurses and doctors carried at least a pen with them at all times, to mark the constant progress of the various patients. It was unlikely, therefore, that Dr. Thurman didn’t have anything at all he could write with.
Dr. Thurman grumbled angrily and dug into his pocket, finally pulling out a black marker and tossing it to John absently.
”Just don’t choke on it.” He said irritably.
The elevator stopped and the doors open, and Dr. Thurman left. John, however, stayed behind for just a bit longer.
”Think you can trick me?” he asked, pulling the cap off of the marker. He stood on his tiptoes and wrote a big X on the side of the camera before putting the cap back on and leaving the elevator before Dr. Thurman noticed.
He managed to catch up with Dr. Thurman just as he was turning the key to his room. The doctor had been grumbling to himself the entire time, unaware that John had not been there.
He opened the door and John walked in, lying down on the bed and closing his eyes.
It was quiet, and that was how he liked it. He could now concentrate. He could now hear the sound of his own breathing, as well as Dr. Thurman’s. Most interesting of all, however, was the quiet, yet distinct, sound of something being peeled off.
John opened his eye a fraction. Just in time to see Dr. Thurman pull his hand away from the back of his neck as he walked out the door, revealing a small white dermal as he turned out the light and closed the door behind him, leaving John in semidarkness. It was a nicotine patch.
John knew this because he used to need one. Before he was committed, he’d been trying to quit smoking with the use of nicotine patches. They’d been cut off from him once he was committed, though. It was against the rules to smoke in the asylum because it scared some of the patients, so now the doctor was using the dermals to feed the nicotine addiction.
So that’s why the doctor was so irritated today, he thought to himself. He smiled and shut his eyes, lulling off to sleep knowing that he would soon be sleeping in a real bed in a real home. He did, after all, have a plan.2


~~~~~~~~~~~

He opened his eyes.
What would the day bring him now?
He sat up and stretched.
He was a good person.
Right?
He walked into the small bathroom where he kept his toothbrush and toothpaste. He picked up the toothpaste. Rather than putting it on the toothbrush, he just opened his mouth and squirted a bit in. He took a plastic cup of water sitting by the sink and filled it up, only to empty the water into his mouth along with the toothpaste. He swished the contents around in his mouth before finally using his toothbrush and then spitting all of it into the sink and examining his teeth in the mirror.
He was a good person.
Right?
He walked back into the room where the bed had been kept. The sheets, pillows, and blankets were all white. He was never sure why.
The door opened, and he looked to see Dr. Harris, one of the many doctors who examined the patients at Aaronsville Mental Asylum, standing in the doorway.
”Are you ready for therapy, Eddie?” she asked.
His name was Eddie Thompson, and he was a good person. He’d been committed to the asylum at age fifteen, and remained there even now, on his twenty-third birthday. He was kept on the fifth floor, because he sometimes reacted violently towards other patients.
He was a good person, though.
“It’s my birthday today!” he smiled, showing off his now-brushed teeth.
”Is it?” she asked, genuinely happy. “How old are you?”
”Twenty-two!” he announced proudly.
”Twenty-three.” She corrected him.
”I know. I wanted to make sure you were paying attention.” He smiled again.
He’d been telling her all week about his upcoming twenty-third birthday. He didn’t want her to forget. He was a good person, after all.
“It’s time for therapy, though.” She said, motioning towards the door.
”I have to make the bed, first.” He said, hurrying over to the bed. He quickly placed the pillows in their proper positions and folded the blanket neatly at hands width below the pillows.
He then turned and followed Dr. Harris out the door.
”I’m a good person.” Eddie said happily to her as he passed by.
”Yes, of course.” She said, smiling. She shut the door behind her before following Eddie.
Eddie suffered from Dissocial Schizophrenia. This particular form of schizophrenia has several symptoms, but Eddie only suffered from one: He was constantly seeking the approval of others. He was a good person.
The fifth floor was where they kept the delusional and usually violent patients of the Aaronsville Mental Asylum. The reason Eddie was kept on the fifth floor was not only because he was delusional and susceptible to the sights of others , but because he was also very violent. This was mostly because when told he was not a good person, he was willing to do anything to redeem himself. Anything included attacking any of the many doctors in the asylum, which was what the other patients usually asked him to do.
Except for Dr. Harris.
He’d never attack her. She always took care of him. She was a good person, too.
”Dr. Harris.” A patient stepped in front of them, blocking their way. Eddie looked around the doctor’s shoulder nervously. He knew the patient.
”What is it, Charles?” she asked kindly.
Charles was just a bit older than Eddie. Not by much, though. He was only older by a year or two. It was a surprise, though, to see Charles here. Charles was usually kept in the yellow room. Eddie had been there once. It was a soft yellow room where you couldn’t move your arms. He didn’t like it very much.
“He’s not a good person.” Charles said with a sneer.
”Charles!” Dr. Harris said angrily.
”What?” Eddie asked fearfully.
”You’re not.” Charles told him. “I don’t see why the good doctor wastes her time.”
”That’s not a very nice thing to say, Charles.” Dr. Harris scorned.
”Sometimes the truth hurts. If you don’t believe me, ask someone.”
”Am I a good-“
”Except her.” Charles interrupted quickly, “You can’t ask her.”
“Charles, if you don’t stop harassing the other patients, I’m going to have to send you back.” She told him, referring to the yellow room, no doubt.
Charles said something in reply, but Eddie didn’t hear it. He went off in search of someone to ask, as Charles had suggested.
He wandered through the crowd of bumbling patients, constantly asking if he was a good person.
”Am I a good person?” he asked.
”Beat it before I beat you.” One of them threatened.
”Am I a good person?” he asked another one.
This one only stared at him. Angrily.
Eddie spotted another one, following behind Dr. Thurman, looking around silently as he went.
”Am I a good person?” he called.
The patient didn’t hear him. He followed after him, repeating the question. The patient still didn’t hear him.
“Eddie!” Dr. Harris called, “Eddie come back!”
He had to ask, before Dr. Harris stopped him from asking anyone at all.
He ran up to the patient, and grabbed him by the arm.
”Am I?” he asked desperately. The patient gave him a confused look, “Am… am I a good person? I am, aren’t I? I-I have to be! Right?”
Before the man had a chance to answer, Dr. Harris came and grabbed Eddie gently by the shoulders, leading him away.
She didn’t count, though. Charles said so. Charles had to be right.
Charles, after all, spoke to his friend. The one that Eddie could see sometimes, but usually not. No one else could see him, though. Just Eddie and Charles. Eddie never asked him what his name was. Charles never told him, and the friend only talked to Charles.
Dr. Harris led Eddie away from all the other patients. Led him to a part of the room where there were no patients.
”Ask him.” she said, pointing to an empty chair.
”I don’t see anyone there…” Eddie said nervously, looking at her.
”You just didn’t look hard enough.” She said softly, “Look again.”
Eddie looked, and sure enough, there was an old man sitting in the chair, smiling at him.3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~4

“Him?” Charles asked doubtfully.
They were standing amidst the crowd of patients on the fifth floor, watching as Dr. Thurman stepped out of the elevator and led a patient out. What were they doing on the fifth floor?
”Him.” Erik confirmed. “He’s planning something.”
”What do you want me to do?” Charles asked.
”Find Eddie.”
Eddie was a patient Charles had met when he was first committed. Though Charles was older, Eddie had been here longer. Unlike Charles, Eddie was perfectly content with his life at the Aaronsville Mental Asylum.
Charles hurried through the crowd, listening for the telltale sign of Eddie’s presence: Am I a good person?
He hated it when Eddie asked that question. Doctors had warned him and most other patients to answer ‘yes’. Though Charles couldn’t find a reason to say ‘no’, he still didn’t like being asked, and usually didn’t answer at all.
Charles hurried through the crowd. It was early; he was probably just leaving his room.
”I have to make the bed first!” he heard Eddie say.
”Keep an eye on him,” Erik advised, “The timing must be perfect.”
Erik was Charles’ only friend. It didn’t matter that everyone else said he wasn’t real. The doctors told him that the medications made him stop seeing things, but whenever Charles took the medicine, they took Erik away. Erik had told him so. They put him in the yellow room. Charles had gone there many times before in search of Erik, but they always released Erik so they could make room for Charles.
Charles watched silently as Dr. Harris led Eddie towards his therapy room.
”Now.”
Charles made his way across the floor and then placed himself in front of Dr. Harris. She stopped short and looked at him quizzically. Eddie peered around her shoulder nervously. Eddie loved Dr. Harris like a child loved their mother. He constantly sought after her approval and almost always did as she told him to.
It made Charles sick to his stomach.
”Dr. Harris.” Charles said. He then shot an angry glance at Eddie.
”What is it, Charles?” she asked, faking kindness. He wasn’t fooled.
“He’s not a good person.” Charles said with a sneer. He’d wanted to say that for the longest time, to see what would happen. Now he had an excuse: Erik told him to.
”Charles!” Dr. Harris said, shocked and appalled.
”What?” Eddie asked fearfully. The idiot.
”You’re not.” Charles told him. “I don’t see why the good doctor wastes her time.”
”That’s not a very nice thing to say, Charles.” Dr. Harris said, her anger building.
”Sometimes the truth hurts. If you don’t believe me, ask someone.” Charles told Eddie, ignoring Dr. Harris.
”Am I a good-“
”Except her.” Charles interrupted quickly, “You can’t ask her.”
“Charles, if you don’t stop harassing the other patients, I’m going to have to send you back.” She warned. Eddie turned around and took off. Undoubtedly to find someone to ask.
”There he goes.” Charles smiled. Dr. Harris turned around, and then shot another glance at Charles. “It’s either me or him.” Charles said, shrugging.
”Eddie!” she called.
He knew how it was. She was Eddie’s personal caretaker. She had been for the past four years. As Eddie loved her as a child loves his mother, so she loved him as a mother loves her child.
Most of the doctors were assigned to take care of specific patients. Except for Charles. His personal caretaker used to be Dr. Anderson, but Dr. Anderson quit after a few months of working with Charles.
”I’m leaving.” He’d told Charles.
”Who’s my new caretaker?” Charles asked.
”No one.” Dr. Anderson said, “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re what they’re calling a ‘group project’. All of the doctors will be checking up on you.”
”Why are you leaving?”
”I got a higher position at another facility in the next town.”
And with that, the only person who’d looked at Charles as a person left. That was when he met Erik. Erik had been Charles’ new roommate. Erik had told Charles grand stories of the outside world and how it had changed. How the doctors were keeping him in the asylum, preventing him from enjoying such grandeurs.
A week later, Charles learned that he had no roommate. It was all in his head is what the doctor had told him. He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, believe what he’d been told.
Erik watched over him. Erik talked to him. Erik was real. He had to be.
Eddie could see him, too. Erik told him so.
“I don’t see anyone.” Eddie told him with a blank look on his face.
”Sure you do!” Charles insisted, “Just look harder! See him?”
And then Eddie’s eyes widened in amazement as he suddenly saw what Charles saw.
”What’s his name?” Eddie asked, glancing from Erik to Charles.
”Don’t tell him.” Erik commanded.
”He’s there, and that’s all that matters.” Charles said angrily, pushing Eddie aside.
All that was in the past now, though. Right now, he had things to do.
He wandered through the crowd of patients, making his way to the end of the room. Making his way to a door with a glass window with the word ‘Office’ in bold letters.
“Break it open.” Erik instructed. “There are some very important files we need to see…”5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~6

John opened his eyes, and it was dark.
He was in the middle of another therapy session. He waited patiently for Dr. Thurman’s voice to ring through the darkness, for Dr. Thurman to tell him he wasn’t blind, that it was just a test.
He waited patiently. Any moment now, Dr. Thurman would switch back on the lights and tell him that today’s therapy was over. Any moment now, Dr. Thurman would lead him back to his room, disposing of yet another nicotine patch, unaware of John’s observance. Any moment now, the darkness would be replaced by light. Any moment now blank white walls would replace the dark empty space in front of him.
He waited.
“Dr. Thurman?” he called out nervously, his voice echoing through the darkness.
No answer.
“Dr. Thurman?” he asked again.
He waited for a full minute. No answer came. He told himself not to panic. It was just a light switch, and Dr. Thurman couldn’t have left the room without his knowledge…
What if something happened to him? He asked himself. I’d be left here. Alone. In the dark.
What could have happened to him?
A heart attack. Brought on by the stress from the nicotine, he could have had a heart attack right here in this room, and I never would have known it.
No. Surely he would have made some sort of noise before dying
It hit him quick. He didn’t feel it coming, and it dropped him before he had time to so much as utter a desperate plea for help.
What about the body? He didn’t die standing. His body would have had to hit the floor, and I would have heard that.
He argued with himself endlessly, not realizing that his breathing was becoming more rapid with each horrid thought and explanation. He had to get out. He didn’t care how, so long as he was never left alone in the darkness again.
He made his way slowly across the room, his hands held out in front of him so he wouldn’t run into the wall. He walked slowly, one foot pushing itself in front of the other so that he shuffled. He wouldn’t trip over anything, either. Not if he walked like this.
It seemed to take him an eternity before his hands hit the smooth wall. He sighed in relief. The room wasn’t very large; all he had to do was shuffle his way around the walls until he found either the door or the light switch.
There was a click and John was suddenly blinded once again by the sudden light. He fell onto the floor, covering his eyes with his hand.
“John, what were you doing?” Dr. Thurman sighed.
”Looking for you.” John answered, his eyes still covered.
”You need to overcome your fear. Anyone can do it.” Dr. Thurman said gently, “Even you.” He held out his hand kindly. John grabbed it, and Dr. Thurman pulled him to his feet. “Now, let’s try one more time.”
“I’m sure I could do much better if I were wearing your lab coat.” John said quietly. “It would remind me to be brave, like you.”
Dr. Thurman looked reluctant. Finally, he dug into his lab coat pocket and pulled out his keys. He then pulled out his wallet. He put both of them in his pants’ pocket before slipping his arms out of the lab coat and handing it to John.
John put it on eagerly.
He sat down in the chair, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. There was a click, and when he opened his eyes, it was dark, as expected.
Rather than act frightened as he usually did, he instead began digging into the coat’s pockets, being careful not to brush his hand against anything that would make noise. At last his fingers found what he was looking for: The nicotine patches. He quickly removed them from the coat pocket, and then transferred them to the bottom of the chair cushion.
He then quietly stood up, and purposely increased his breathing.
“Dr. Thurman?” he called, pretending to be nervous.
Of course, he wasn’t really scared. Why should he be? He knew he wasn’t really blind, that the doctor would, eventually, turn the lights back on, and he could return to his room to sleep the rest of the day away.
“Dr. Thurman?” he asked, walking forward. “I don’t think the coat is working…” he said quietly. He knew that with the echoes, the doctor would hear this comment, most likely thinking that John had assumed it went unheard. It was, after all, what he wanted Dr. Thurman to think. “Dr. Thurman! Help! It’s too dark! Turn on the lights!”
There was a click, and the lights were on again. John’s pupils dilated once again, and he covered his eyes much like before, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When, at last, his eyes did adjust, he slipped off the coat and handed it shamefully back to Dr. Thurman.
“I think we’re done for today, John.” Dr. Thurman sighed, unlocking and opening the door.
Dr. Thurman began leading John back to the elevator. They passed by several patients; some familiar, some not. John was planning it all very carefully. The locations of every door, every window- every exit- would be crucial.
“I have a headache.” Dr. Thurman said idly.
Good. The lack of nicotine is getting to him.
They walked a bit more ways, and John hung his head in thought. He was observing how he walked. He noticed that he walked with his head down, but his back was always straight, and that where some people walked with their feet pointed outward, he walked with his feet pointed straight ahead.
“What the hell?” Dr. Thurman asked. John looked up, curious as to what had caught Dr. Thurman’s attention.
A patient was walking towards them, holding files in his hand, reading them. His right arm was bleeding from various cuts and wounds. The patiently apparently hadn’t noticed.
”Charles!” Dr. Thurman shouted angrily. “What are you doing with those? What happened to your arm? Where’s your doctor?”
Charles stopped walking and looked up. He stared at Dr. Thurman curiously, then stared at John.
“Erik told me about you.” He said.
”Erik?” John asked, more curious than afraid.
“Charles,” Dr. Thurman’s tone changed almost instantly from angry to sympathetic, “Have you been seeing Erik again?”
“He told me about you, too, Dr. Thurman.” Charles answered, “He told me about how you locked him away.”
”Charles,” Dr. Thurman said quietly, “Don’t listen to what Erik tells you…”
”I can help you escape.” Charles said suddenly. John gasped. Escape?
”John, don’t.” Dr. Thurman backed away slowly from John. “Don’t listen to him.”
”I know where to go.” Charles said, “I know where that camera can’t follow us.”
“John…” Dr. Thurman kept backing away as John slowly advanced. He was cornered, and he knew it.7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~8

He opened his eyes and looked around.
Dr. Harris had needed to attend to a phone call, and Eddie had followed her to her private office. He’d never been in there before, so Dr. Harris told him he could close his eyes and make it a surprise. It was a plush office with a desk that had a phone sitting on it, surrounded by several files and papers.
Eddie sat down in one of the two chairs placed in front of the desk as Dr. Harris made her way around to the blinking phone. He idly examined the lamp sitting on the small table in between the chairs, and then looked at a few of the magazines. Most of them were medical magazines, and, strangely enough, when he opened them up they were mostly about pregnancy.
Dr. Harris picked up the phone, chatted a bit, wrote a few things down, and finally said, “Thank you” and then hung up.
”I have some news for you, Eddie.” She told him. “That was the adoption agency. I’ll be able to stop by and pick up a child this weekend.” She said cheerfully.
”What?” Eddie asked.
”I can’t have any children on my own,” she explained, “so I have to adopt a child.”
”What about me?” Eddie asked. “I’m a good person, aren’t I?”
”You?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Eddie, you’re twenty-three years old. I can’t possibly-“
”I’m a good person, aren’t I?” he interrupted her. “Right? I am, right?”
”Yes, Eddie, but-“
”Then why not me?” he asked furiously. “If I’m a good person, why not me?”
”Eddie-“
”No!” he shouted angrily, standing up.
”Eddie, calm down…” she said, holding out her hands gently as she circled her way around the desk.
Eddie looked around, panicking. He didn’t want her near him. Not here. Not now. Not ever. He grabbed the lamp and flung it at Dr. Harris. He missed her by a few inches, and the lamp shattered against the wall. Dr. Harris ducked, covering her head, protecting herself from the falling shards.
Eddie turned around and swung open the door, running outside of the office.
“Eddie, wait!” Dr. Harris called out. He ignored her, though. He ignored her and kept running. He had to get away. He ran all the way to the stairwell before finally stopping and thinking about what had just happened…
She was replacing him. He thought he was a good person, though…
”You’re not.” A voice rang out. Eddie turned around in surprise, to find the patient he’d seen with Dr. Thurman standing a third of the way up the stairs to his left. “However, you can redeem yourself.”
”Who are you?” Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes angrily.
”His name is John.” Charles’ voice rang out. Eddie turned around to find Charles ascending the stairs that had been to his right. “And he’s going to help us escape.”9

~~~~~~~~~~~~~10

He opened his eyes and looked at his right arm. It was bleeding, cut from the glass. He winced at the pain, but pushed it from his mind as he reached in and unlocked the door.
He opened the door and made his way to the file cabinet. He grabbed one of the handles and pulled. It was locked.
He raised his left arm, ready to knock the cabinet open.
”No.” Erik said, “You’ll mix up the files if you do it that way. Find the key.”
He turned around and quickly walked over to a wooden cabinet. He pulled at one of the doors, labeled ‘Keys’, but it was locked.
He took a few steps back and then kicked at the cabinet door as hard as he could. The wooden door broken, revealing a lining of keys hanging on nails, some of them had fallen off, though.
He read their labels and then picked out the key with the label ‘Files’, then the key labeled ‘Stairs- all doors’.
He quickly used the first key to open the file cabinet, opening it and then flipped through the names before finally pulling out his own file, Charles Williams.
He then skimmed through the names again before closing the cabinet and opening the next drawer up. He flipped through the names and then pulled out the file labeled Eddie Thompson. He then began opening each of the files, looking at each one briefly before throwing them to the floor. At last he found what he was looking for. He looked at the name, John Redfield.
“One more.” Erik told him, “We’ll need building plans.”
Once Charles had everything he needed, he left the office, locking the door before shutting it behind him. The doctors would soon discover the office, and would call the security guards. They would see what files were missing, and send out a search. Even if he delayed them by only a few seconds by locking the door, he would need as much time as possible before they searched for him.
He made his way down the hallway. It was strangely empty. Now would be a good time to begin reading up on his new ‘friend.’
He shifted the files, and briefly examined his right arm. It was still bleeding a little bit, but he could already tell that the cuts weren’t nearly as deep as he’d thought, and it would stop bleeding soon and begin to heal.
He opened the file. There was a picture of John in the top right-hand corner, and his name, John Redfield, beneath it.
“What the hell?” Charles didn’t bother stopping or looking up. He knew it was Thurman, and he knew what he wanted. He didn’t care, though.
”Charles!” Thurman shouted angrily. “What are you doing with those? What happened to your arm? Where’s your doctor?”
Charles stopped walking and looked up. He stared at Thurman curiously, and then he noticed a patient was standing beside him. It was none other than John Redfield himself! John seemed a bit uneasy about Charles staring at him.
“Erik told me about you.” Charles informed him.
”Erik?” John asked curiously.
“Charles,” Dr. Thurman’s tone changed almost instantly from angry to sympathetic. He was faking it. It was obvious. “Have you been seeing Erik again?”
“He told me about you, too, Dr. Thurman.” Charles answered, “He told me about how you locked him away.”
Charles’ mind flashed back to all the times Erik had disappeared for weeks on end, but came back to inform him about how the doctors had locked him away. How the doctors didn’t want him to tell Charles about the outside world.
”Charles,” Thurman said quietly, “Don’t listen to what Erik tells you…”
No. He would listen to Erik. Erik was always right. Always.
”Tell him what we can offer him.” Erik said suddenly.
”I can help you escape.”
John gasped.
”John, don’t.” Thurman began to back away slowly from John. “Don’t listen to him.”
”I know where to go.” Charles continued, “I know where that camera can’t follow us.”
“John…” Dr. Thurman kept backing away as John slowly advanced. He was cornered, and he knew it.
Charles struck him on the side of his head, right in the temple. Thurman collapsed with a groan.
”You offered me escape.” John said, “How?”
In response, Charles held up the keys he’d taken earlier. He then handed John the files he’d taken. He hadn’t just taken profiles, no. He’d taken building blue prints, he’d taken maps usually used to train new security guards, he’d taken schedules, security files; everything Erik had told him to. He took everything Erik thought would come in handy, and he’d taken them without any thought or hesitation.
He looked to his side, but Erik wasn’t there.
He must be waiting for me by the stairwell. He thought to himself.
“Let’s go before security shows up.” Charles said decisively, walking away. John nodded in agreement and began to follow.
They moved quickly, silently, and most importantly, unseen. They couldn’t risk being caught. Not now. They took abandoned corridors and corridors that were under construction. John just followed Charles, but Charles had no idea where he was going. They passed by several stairwells, but none of them seemed to be the right one. He didn’t know how he knew which ones were wrong, but he didn’t care, either. He’d always been an impulsive person, anyway.
At last they came to a stairwell he was satisfied with. He pulled out the keys as he strode towards the door. He glanced around him once more to make sure they weren’t followed, then turned the keys and opened the door.
They walked into the stairwell and closed the door behind them. Charles left the door unlocked. He didn’t know why. Maybe for a quick escape?
“Do you have a plan for getting out of here?” John asked, flipping through the files one-by-one.
”I was told that you did.” Charles said, leaning over the rails of the stair, peering down into the next set of stairs, and then turning around to peer up. Where was Erik?
“Who told you that?” John asked, still flipping through the files.
“Charles…” Erik’s voice echoed, “I’m down here. I’ve been waiting.”
“See for yourself.” Charles answered, moving down the stairs.
”Why? What’s down there?” John asked, closing the files, but not bothering to follow.
”I’m up here.” Erik’s voice echoed from above.
“Nothing.” Charles said, bemused. Hadn’t he just heard Erik down below? “It’s up there, on the next floor.”
John gave him a weary look, turned around, and trekked up the stairs.
Suddenly, the door they’d just been standing by burst open, and in ran Eddie. He ran straight to the bars, grabbing them to stop himself, and leaning over in the moment. Charles watched him curiously, idly wondering if Eddie was going to pass out and fall over the edge, and quite possibly breaking his neck.
Eddie took deep breaths, obviously unaware of the presence of Charles, who stood halfway down the stairs to his right, or of the presence of John, who stood a third of the way up the stairs to his left.
“I-I’m being replaced…” Eddie sobbed, apparently unaware he was speaking aloud. “She’s… Replacing me… I… I thought I was a good person.”
Charles and John exchanged silent looks before John finally said,
”You’re not.” Eddie recoiled in shock, turning around to face the newfound adversary. Charles knew of Eddie’s violent tendencies when told to do so, and once again idly considered having him attack John, just to see what would happen.
No. John is far too important.
“However,” John continued, “You can redeem yourself.”
”Who are you?” Eddie snarled.
”His name is John.” Charles said as he began to climb the stairs. “And he’s going to help us escape.”11

~~~~~~~~~~~~~12

John had been formulating this plan for the past two years. He’d been in the sanitarium for three years, but a year after his arrival they’d taken him off his medications, believing he was a nonviolent patient, and that his delusions had ceased. What was the point of the medications if he wasn’t seeing things and he wasn’t hurting anybody, after all? They truly believed that the only thing they needed to work on was his Scotomaphobia.
Neither had they known, though, John had been planning his escape. Though, in truth, he wasn’t a violent person at all, he was willing to do whatever it took to get out. Fortunately, he wasn’t an impulsive person, either. He was methodical. He planned things. He thought out the cause and effect of all his actions, and usually remained very quiet, only speaking when spoken to.
And, though he’d spent two years planning, he could never come up with anything he thought was worth trying. It was just too risky. He needed information. He needed to know what the doctors’ weaknesses were, he needed to know where everything and everyone was and at what time. He needed profiles, building schematics, blueprints, schedules, and security files.
Then it was all handed to him.
Truthfully, the encounter was unexpected. Truthfully, the idea of using Dr. Thurman’s nicotine addiction against him had had another purpose.
But plans change.
John was not expecting to meet Charles, nor was he expecting Charles to attack Dr. Thurman. It was fortunate, therefore, that he had decided to take advantage of Dr. Thurman’s weakness that day, rather than the next. The blow Charles had delivered would have knocked anyone out, nicotine addiction or no. The usefulness was the fact that the lack of nicotine clouded the doctor’s judgment. Had he been in his right mind, he would have reached to his belt for his beeper, calling security to his location. Unfortunately for him, though, John knew he depended on the patches- the precious patches- so much that going without them for a mere hour- from the beginning of their therapy session to the moment they met Charles- would wreak havoc with his mind.
Yes, things had gotten out of his control, but only for a brief moment. Now, not only was he in control again, but he had everything he needed. All thanks to Charles.
Unfortunately, he knew that in the end, he would betray Charles. That, or Charles would betray him. And even if they came to their own agreements and both escaped, Charles would be caught due to his impulsive nature, and through him they would find John.
Eddie shouldn’t be able to make it, either. It wasn’t that John was worried that Eddie would do anything to slow him down, or get him caught. In fact, Eddie seemed more than capable of staying in hiding once given the proper motivation. However, he was unfit for the outside world. John felt sorry for him. It was his mercy that would keep Eddie here in the Aaronsville Mental Asylum. In the end, Eddie would thank him.
Charles and Eddie had been in this wretched asylum for years. Neither of them remembered the outside world. Charles seemed to have his own ideas of what is was like, and Eddie seemed oblivious to the fact it existed. John, however, had only been in the asylum for three years. Not much changes in three years. He remembered everything about the outside world. He knew of its pleasures and it’s punishments. He knew both the good qualities and the bad. Those two, however, only knew what they had been told.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” John said finally, pulling out the building schematics, “Charles, you’ll be on the top floor. You’ll make your way through here, here, and here,” he said as he pointed to the various doors and hallways on the paper they’d laid out on the ground, “Until at last you make it to the security room. From there, you will disable all of the security measures. Understand?”
”What do I do after that?” Charles asked, looking at the schematics thoughtfully.
”You’ll come back to this stairwell, go to the bottom door- the first floor- and meet us in the bathroom, here.” He pointed once more.
”What will we be doing in the bathroom?”
”That’s what I’ll take care of. I’ll be on the seventh floor, where they keep the clothes of the new patients. If we walk out with these on,” he gestured to the blue clothes all patients were required to wear, “We’ll get caught and immediately sent back. I can only get there, though, when the security is down. So you’ll have to call us on a radio that you take from the guards.”
”Where are you going to get a radio?” Charles asked.
“That’s Eddie’s job. Eddie, you’ll sneak onto the third floor, where I usually stay. There aren’t but a few guards down there, so it might take a bit of searching. If you see a guard, don’t say anything. He’ll most likely assume you’re a wandering patient, and lead you back to the main lobby to find your doctor.”
”Dr. Harris…” Eddie said quietly.
”No. Don’t say anything.” John instructed, “Not even when he asks you a question. When he’s least expecting it, and nobody’s looking, club him in the back of the head and bring the radio back here to me.”
“But you said you’ll be on the seventh floor.” Charles protested.
”I can’t get there, though, until you’ve taken out the security.” John explained patiently, “Eddie will help me bring the clothes back.”
John then flipped through the files before finally pulling out the security schedule.
“Eddie, you’ll need to take this with you. This will help you find which guard is where at what time, and make your job a lot quicker.”
”Slow and steady wins the race.” Eddie smiled.
”Not this time.” John said, laying a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “Time is of the essence.”13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~14

He opened his eyes wide in surprise.
He had nodded eagerly as John explained his plan; he had made comments to show that he not only was listening, but that he understood.
”Slow and steady wins the race.” It was a phrase Dr. Harris had taught him when he first arrived in the asylum, eight years earlier, when he was fifteen.
His parents had abandoned him. Before they abandoned him they abused him. Before they abused him they neglected him. Before they neglected him- before he was born- they were happier. And they made sure he knew it every day of his miserable little life.
Eddie was a burden to them and to others. He wasn’t a quick learner; he wasn’t exceptionally clever; he wasn’t anything special at all. He was a good person, though. At least, that’s what he told himself.
A week before his fifteenth birthday his parents informed him that they were going to disown him. They told him that they’d considered putting him up for adoption, instead, but they didn’t figure anybody would want him.
True to their word, a week later he woke up on the streets. They’d abandoned him like an unwanted dog.
Four hours later the police found him, wandering down the streets asking himself how it happened. They brought him to the station, and a hired psychiatrist examined him. That was when he was committed.
On his fifteenth birthday, Eddie Thompson had been abandoned, discovered, evaluated, and committed to the Aaronsville Mental Asylum by nightfall.
He didn’t speak much at first, not even to Dr. Harris. He would just ask if he was a good person, and everyone would tell him he was, and he would ask why it happened, and they would tell him they didn’t know.
One day, during an evaluation, he asked if he was a good person. The doctor, Dr. Thaddeus, answered no, as an experiment. He explained to Eddie that he was not a good person because he had flaws, and that he must learn to accept flaws.
Eddie asked what those flaws were. He asked if attacking people would be considered a flaw. Dr. Thaddeus beamed at him and answered yes, proud that Eddie had caught onto the concept of good and bad so quickly.
Eddie thought it over, and then at last decided he must do as the doctor informed him: Accept his flaws. So he attacked Dr. Thaddeus. He was sedated, and when he awoke he was in the yellow room, and he couldn’t move his arms. He struggled; he flung himself into the walls, against the door- anything to escape the room, but to no avail.
When he tired himself out, Dr. Harris came into the room and explained to him what Dr. Thaddeus meant. She explained to him she was going to help. He believed her.
Then, eight years later, she informed him he was being replaced. Fifteen minutes after that, John told him he could redeem himself. Five minutes after that, with proper briefing and preparation, Eddie carried out dutifully the task John had assigned him.
Twenty minutes later he returned with the radio. It was then John told him he would not be leaving.
”Why not?” Eddie asked, “You said I could redeem myself!”
”What do you hope to accomplish by leaving?” John asked, “Do you intend to impress Dr. Harris? By leaving her? Or maybe you want to prove how clever you really are? Well, the mere fact you got this radio for me proves that you’re much more clever than I’d thought. Consider yourself redeemed.”
”But… I’m a good person!” Eddie said.
”And the outside world is full of bad people.” John replied.
”Then why do you want to leave? Are you a bad person?”
”I don’t belong here.” John said, remaining patient as always. In the short time Eddie had known John, he’d yet to see him lose his temper. He was always calm, collective, and thoughtful.
”You’re a bad person…” Eddie said.
He then did something he would regret for the rest of his life: He attacked John Redfield.15

~~~~~~~~~~~~~16

He opened his eyes and looked around at what he’d done. A nurse had caught him. She immediately brought him to the medical center to treat his arm, in which case he’d knocked her out by flinging her against the wall. Her head was bleeding. She may have died. He didn’t know; he didn’t care.
He searched through the drawers and finally found a scalpel. The scalpel was used for the rare surgeries that occurred within the asylum. Charles used it to stab a guard blocking his way to the security room.
Charles broke into the security room, occupied by three guards. They were unarmed, unprepared, and untrained to handle a patient breaking in. These guards were just people who watched monitors and reported anything unusual to the patrolling guards.
It took him less than a minute to knock out the first one, possibly kill the second with the scalpel, and hold the third one hostage.
Where was Erik?
”Turn everything off.” Charles instructed, pointing the scalpel at him.
The guard hesitated, and slowly reached for his belt.
”I’m much faster than you.” Charles said threateningly, “If you so much as touch your beeper or radio, I swear I’ll kill you faster than you can blink. Now cooperate and turn everything off. Now!” he shouted.
The guard nodded. He was young. He was inexperienced. He was frightened.
The odds could not have been more in Charles’ favor if there’d been Divine Intervention.
As soon as Charles saw the words, “Security System Disabled” appear on the screen, he kicked the guard behind the knees and then slammed his head onto the ground. Whether the guard was alive or not was unimportant. What was important is that he would not call for help now.
“It’s done.” Charles said, picking up the radio and changing it to the channel John had instructed him to. This would prevent other guards from dropping in on their conversation. There was a moment of silence.
”Good.” John’s voice said. It sounded unnerved, and John’s breathing had been heavy.
”What’s wrong? What happened?” Charles asked.
”Eddie…”
“Was he caught?”
”Don’t worry about it. He’s out of our way now.” John’s voice said. “I’ll let you know when I reach the seventh floor.”17

~~~~~~~~~~~~~18

He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. He glanced over the railway. What had he done?
Eddie had attacked him, and John had moved back and tripped him in the process. Eddie lost his footing, and went tumbling over the rail. There was a crack that echoed throughout the narrow stairwell, and when John took a deep breath and looked over the edge, Eddie was lying at the bottom, not moving.
”It’s done.” Charles voice said. John turned. He hadn’t even realized Eddie had dropped the radio just before the attack. John picked it up,
“Good.” He waited.
”What’s wrong? What happened?”
”Eddie…” John said as he glanced once more over the rail, but quickly turned away, disgusted and frightened with what he saw.
”Was he caught?”
”Don’t worry about it.” John said angrily, “He’s out of our way now.” How had he become so heartless? He closed his eyes and sighed, “I’ll let you know when I reach the seventh floor.”
He trekked his way up the stairs, counting as he went. It was then that he noticed the camera. Charles had said it was safe here in the stairwell, but somehow John wasn’t surprised. Had it seen what happened? Had it recorded the fight? The fall?
He didn’t care. He didn’t even bother to look at it long enough to check for the X he’d left on it before. Whatever happened happened. Once he left the asylum, the camera couldn’t follow him anymore, and whatever it saw was irrelevant.
He reached the seventh floor, glanced once more over the rail, and then switched the channels on the radio.
“All guards and doctors report to the top floor. We have an intruder in the security room and a body in the left stairwell. One of the patients has escaped.”
He then dropped the radio over the edge before anyone had a chance to respond. Then, casually, he walked through the stairwell door, leaving Eddie alone in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~19

He opened his eyes in agony. He could hear John’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. Was something holding him down? He tried to turn his head to see, but couldn’t. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but couldn’t.
He heard a door open and shut, and he was left alone in the dark. He began to cry.
He was a good person. How could this happen to him?
Another door opened, lights came on, and he heard footsteps. He could hear Dr. Harris’s voice shouting frantically, but he didn’t know what she was saying. He wanted to wipe the tears away, to show her he was strong, but he couldn’t move.
He saw her kneel beside him, watched as she sobbed and shouted to him things he could not hear.
He watched as she cried, and watched as her tears fell onto his face. He couldn’t feel them, though. He wanted to tell her to be strong, like he was now. But he couldn’t gain the energy to. He wanted to tell her not to worry. Wanted to tell her to take good care of the child she was adopting. Wanted to tell her goodbye. He never got the chance though.20

~~~~~~~~~~~~~21

He opened his eyes, and looked around groggily. The guards had caught him off guard. While he’d been waiting for John, they’d broken in. He’d managed to cut a few with the scalpel, but in the end he was sedated and apprehended.
“Erik!” Charles shouted. “Erik! Where are you?”
”He’s hallucinating again.” He heard a doctor say.
“Is he on his meds?”
”He’s sedated right now.” Their voices were far-off and echoed. Everything was blurry and confusing.
“Erik?” he asked, “Erik!” he shouted again in hopes of hearing a reply.
”He’ll have to be lobotomized.” He heard a doctor say.
“Yes, Dr. Freeman. What do we do for now?” the voices were becoming even more distant, and he had to strain to hear.
“For now, put him in-“ he couldn’t make out the rest.
“Erik!”
He felt himself being lifted to his feet, and dragged. He felt his arms held in front of him, and then crossed in front of his chest. He couldn’t see anything clearly, but he knew they were putting him in a straitjacket.
“Erik!” he shouted as the guards dragged him down the hallway, undoubtedly to the padded room.
“You’re pathetic.” He heard Erik say. It was clear and distinct.
“Erik, help me!”
“Why should I help you,” Erik asked angrily, “when you can’t even help yourself?”
“Please! Erik!”
“Dr. Anderson left you for a reason, Charles. I tried to help you, but you’re helpless.”
”I did what you told me! I did as you said!”
”And you can’t even think for yourself.”
He felt himself being thrown, and he felt himself slide against the floor before finally hitting something soft. He knew where he was. The restraining room they would put him in to keep him away from Erik.
He looked up, and standing in the doorway was Erik, holding the door open.
“Erik, no!” he shouted. He stumbled to his feet and ran as quickly as he could to the door. His heart pounded in fear. His only friend…. Leaving him?
“This is goodbye, Charles.” He heard Erik say as he shut the door. Charles hit the padded door and fell back. He was trapped, and Erik was gone.
He was alone now. Completely, and utterly alone.22

~~~~~~~~~~~~~23

He opened his eyes and sighed in relief. He’d be free, soon.
He passed several guards running toward the stairwell, or a nearby elevator. They paid no attention to him, though. Didn’t even notice. Why should they care about some lost patient when they had another patient just ahead, lying at the bottom of the stairwell, lifeless?
It didn’t take him long to find the room where they kept the clothes. The doctors changed out of their uniforms here, and new patients would have their clothes stored in this room. However, the room was void of any doctors or guards. Just John.
He quickly slipped off the blue uniform standard of all the patients and changed into some brown khakis, a tan shirt, and a tie. He brushed his hair back in the mirror. He turned around and saw the camera.
This time he did check for the X. It wasn’t there. They were trying to trick him. They wanted him to think he was crazy, but he wasn’t. They wanted to keep him in this asylum.
His mind flashed back to the day he’d been committed.
He’d had a panic attack in the streets. His vision had gone black, and a car had nearly hit him, but it swerved. That swerve cost the driver his life.
The police charged him with manslaughter, and his lawyer managed to convince the jury he was not guilty by insanity. And then he’d been committed.
He’d been afraid of losing his sight for as long as he could remember. When he was young, his eyesight had been extremely bad. They went to see a doctor about it. The doctor couldn’t tell him, nor his parents, why his vision was so bad, but he told them that he would one day go blind.
John underwent several surgeries; most of which were experimental, and had never been performed before. His vision would sometimes disappear completely, and he’d be blind for weeks before it came back, baffling doctors everywhere.
During those weeks, he bumped into things, fell down stairs, and people made remarks about him. He could hear their remarks, and it hurt. Not as much, though, as falling down stairs, or accidentally walking through a closed glass door.
He had scars to prove it.
Blindness would inevitably bring him death, and he knew it. It caused panic attacks, nightmares, and delusions.
That would change, though. He was confident he could survive now.
He straightened his tie once more, and walked out of the room confidently. He got as far as the second hallway when it happened. His vision faded out. The last thing he saw was that camera. Then his vision was gone, and it wasn’t coming back.24

While he was sleeping, he saw images. Saw the image of Dr. Harris crying over Eddie, saw the guards apprehend Charles on the seventh floor. But it was all just dreams.
When he awoke, he knew he was blind. He couldn’t see. Not now, not ever. No matter how many times Dr. Thurman flicked the light-switch, no matter how much he squinted his eyes, he would never see.
He laughed, though. He laughed at his own foolishness. The camera he saw everywhere, he could no longer see now. Was that not a benefit? And now, as though through some deep awakening, he knew he didn’t need to worry. The camera had never been following him. It was helping him. He understood that now.
His name was John Redfield, and he could not see. He didn’t have to. The camera recorded everything, and it told him what it saw while he slept.
25