The Midnight Hour

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Chapter 7

12:45 A.M.

I awoke to the sounds of someone talking. I opened my eyes, it took a minute to focus. I looked around trying to make out the figures in the room. I could hear a man and a woman talking about some experiment.

I can see a metal table in the room, with a white sheet draped over it. There is an assortment of sharp instruments nearby on a cart. I can almost make out the people. I can hear Cory crying somewhere in the room.

Then I see them, it’s that man and woman from the pictures Mark had taken. The man in surgical gear and the nurse. That must have been who injected us in the car.

“We were out! We were out!” I hear Cory scream.

“You were never out sweetheart.” The woman says.

The man walks around the room picking up tools and mumbling. He shakes his head.

“This patient isn’t responding to our group therapy.” He says pointing at Cory

The nurse giggles and shrugs her shoulders with a grin.

“Guess we will have to try more drastic techniques.” She suggests.

“Ah, you may be right Ms. Percival.” He laughs.

The man grabs a straight jacket and tosses it to the woman.

“Here, prep the patient, we don’t want him moving, that could be quite dangerous for him, ha.” The man says with a crooked smile.

The woman walks over to Cory and straps him down in the straight jacket. Cory is screaming and crying.

“Let me go! Get off me!” He cried.

“Don’t worry sweetie this will all be over soon.” She said.

My heart is pounding, I can’t move. I look down to see there are straps bounding me to a chair. I shake and move all I can trying to break free, but the straps don’t budge.

“Now, now, we will be with you shortly, no need to get anxious.” The man said.

They grab Cory and throw him onto the metal table. They put restraints across his body, Cory is shaking and screaming in panic. I can’t do anything but watch.

The woman picks up a pair of rusty scissors and starts chopping off his hair. The man puts his hand in a jar full of orange liquid, then rubs his hands together. He picks up an old tool that looks like a type of drill. He cranks the drill with his hand and the bit on it begins to spin.

Cory is writhing on the table, screaming. The man stands over him then pauses.

“Oh my, we can’t be having that now.” He says squinting his eyes at Cory.

“You shouldn’t have done that boy. You must never look at the doctor when he’s working.” The woman warned.

The man put down the drill and grabbed a circular tool with blades on it. He walked over to Cory and gave a quick smile.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Cory screamed

The doctor jams the bladed tool into Cory’s eyes, yanking them out one by one. I slam my eyes shut so tight it hurts, I can’t watch this. I hear the nurse drop his eyes into a liquid jar.

“Oh, these will make a nice addition, such a pretty brown color.” The nurse laughed.

I hear Cory screaming in agony, hoping for death.

“That’s better.” The man says.

I hear the drill start spinning again, I peek open my eyes. Blood is spurting out of his eye sockets, running down to the floor. The doctor pushes the drill up against Cory’s head and starts cranking it as Cory shrieks. The drill enters his skull sending blood across the room splashing into my face. The nurse is dancing around the room giggling.

Cory is no longer making any sounds; his body is shaking like he’s having a seizure. I watch as he shakes and goes lifeless. I just stare as if it’s all a dream I’m going to wake up from at any minute, like this nightmare is all in my head. I hope to wake up but, no peace ever comes.

I sit there in shock as they rip Cory apart, taking each limb from him, putting chunks in jars and throwing organs in a pile on the counter. I watch for an eternity.

The doctor then points at me, I quickly close my eyes, hoping he won’t take them.

“Him, send him to the therapist!” He demanded.

The nurse giggled as she unstrapped me and threw me in a wheelchair. I peeked open my eyes, she was pushing me through a set of double doors, down a long lit up hallway. I passed by several rooms, each filled with other victims of their practice. I see a few I recognize from the missing persons list.

We continue down the long hallway through another set of doors, the lights are dim in this hallway. The rooms appear to be old offices, tables are flipped over in them, old debris is strung out across the floors. We must be on the bottom floor, I can see the entrance door as we pass by.

The woman begins to giggle again as we go into a small office room. There is an old ripped up couch against the wall, a small rotting desk table across from it. She puts the wheelchair up against the couch and smiles at me, her teeth are yellowed, what’s left of them that is. Her breath is hot against my face with an unsettling odor coming from it.

She gives one last grin as she dances out of the room.

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