Night Hawk Files

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Rabbit Hole

Rabbit Hole

My Dearest Eurus,

I believe that it is happening again.

There was this patient that I had. We will call her Amy. I was assigned to her case six months ago. She had been committed to different mental hospitals since she was eleven. They said it was schizophrenia but I wasn’t convinced.

I met her in her room. Such a tiny little woman. She looked like a newborn foul learning to walk. Her long red hair swayed as she pretended to play a violin. Her feet looked so small. I watched her for a moment. The doctor spoke to me about her over the phone before I arrived.

“She’s not right in the head,” he told me.

“Well that’s not too professional,” I said. “What exactly is wrong with her?”

“You will have to see it for yourself,” the doctor told me. Seeing her now, I was convinced this wasn’t a woman drew by madness alone. She finally looked up and saw me.

“Hello,” I greeted her. Amy kept her eyes lowered as she walked back to her bed.

“May I come in?” I asked. She wouldn’t look at me. I causally walked into her room. There wasn’t much inside. Just her and the bed. Even said bed didn’t have sheets. I introduced myself and tried to ask for her name. She didn’t talk. I did most of the talking. It was just mostly small talk. Trying to get to know her. The first night yielded no results.

The next night was a replay of the last night.

By the third night, I got somewhere. This is where I got the feeling something wasn’t right. I came in like I normally did. Amy sat on her bed in the darkness. I greeted her like normal. This time, she looked at me. I asked her how she was. Amy wouldn’t speak at first. I started to take slow steps towards her. She started cowering as I got closer. The patient screamed at me to stop. When I asked her why, she said something about it doesn’t want me near her.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. Amy wouldn’t say at first. I waited for her to calm down enough to talk. I sat down on the bed next to her. Amy was quick to look away.

“Speak to me,” I said. She mumbled something under her breath. I asked her what she was talking about. I could only get one thing out of her.

“The hole,” Amy whispered.

I remembered you said something about this years ago.

I asked her what she was talking about. She wouldn’t tell me at first. As much as I wanted to nudge her to talk, but I knew that it wouldn’t help. So, I sat beside her in silence and waited. Amy wouldn’t look at me again. Her eyes remained on her knees. She wouldn’t tell me what she meant until the next night.

I came back for the fourth night. As expected, I found Amy sitting on her bed. Her eyes looked so empty. But this time, she was smiling. I raised my eyebrow as I slowly approached her.

“It’s okay,” she told me. I froze in my tracks.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The hole,” Amy said. “She’s calling for me.” It was then I knew how bad it was. I had to get her out of there. Of course, I made up a good excuse to check her out of hospital. They didn’t even ask any questions. (I guess being a top therapist in Scotland does have its perks.) I told Amy back to my place. I live in a small cottage near the highlands. Two bedrooms would be enough for us. The guest room is across from mine as you remember. The plan was I would let her stay in my house for the remainder of my treatment of her.

The drive back to my house was quiet. Amy didn’t even look out the window. She stared out on the road in front of us. I asked her how she was. The patient didn’t answer. She didn’t even have any emotion on her face. I had gotten used to her not talking. Once we made it home, I walked her inside. She had dinner and a bath. Once I put her to bed, I began to plan out how to help her.

The next morning, I found her sitting on the bed in the guest room. I decided to try another tactic. I asked her how she was doing. Amy had a creepy-looking smile on her face.

“It’s looking for me,” she said. “I can hear her singing. She’s calling me.”

“Right…” I said. I closed the door behind me. “Listen, I want to try something with you.” I pulled a stack of papers and a box of crayons.

“Do you like drawing?” I asked. Amy didn’t answer. I handed her the paper and the crayons. I told her to draw what she thought the hole looked like and who was singing to her. She didn’t answer as I laid down the materials for her on the bed.

I ended up leaving her alone for the rest of the morning.

Around three pm, I came back to her room. Amy sat on the floor drawing away. I asked her how she was doing. She didn’t answer or look up. The patient was coloring away happily. Well, happy is not accurate. It sent chills up my spine. Now, you have known me for years. I have been a psychiatrist for a long time. Nothing can shock me at this point. But Amy’s drawings…

I have included them in the letter for a better visual. I will try to tell you in words too. Wish me luck on this:

First Drawing: A giant hole. She used the black crayon to the stub on the pictures. This hole will appear in many more pictures.

Second Drawing: The same hole. Only, there was a small figure in the center. I couldn’t make out what it was. Amy didn’t exactly tell me what it was. She just said it was “she”. That’s all she would she.

Third Drawing: Another black hole. This time, the figure was a little bit bigger. I couldn’t really make out any features. From what I see was long, tall ears and a round body. The figure had no face. The more I looked at these drawings, the more I started to fear the worst. The last one I am sending you confirms it.

Final Drawing: The black hole is there, but it covers only the outer corners of the page. The figure in the middle got bigger. The bright pink took up most of the picture. The ears are still there. Only this time, there was a face. Giant red eyes, no nose, and a giant mouth. Said mouth had pointy black teeth.

I asked her what the creature was again. This time, Amy only said “Bun-bun.” She talked out how it was singing to her and she was no longer afraid.

“Everything will be fine,” she said. “She wants me to come with her. I won’t suffer anymore. She was taking me home.” It was just like the time when we were young. It’s happening again. I asked Amy how long Bun-Bun had been calling to her. She said since she was three. Nobody seemed to believe her. The system put her into hospital before they committed her. There was only one way to stop this.

After dinner, I burned sage around her room and splashed her with holy water. Amy didn’t move the whole time. She had a starry-eyed look with each splash of water. For extra measures, I had the priest come and bless her room. (Father Cal says hi, by the way.) I thought it would be the end of it.

I had never been so wrong in my life.

That night, everything had been calm. I talked to her about how she felt. Amy was so calm. She had a little smile on her face. I don’t know what it was, but something felt off. I couldn’t cause the patient alarm. She needed to stay calm for this to work.

I hadn’t counted on how strong it had gotten.

Around three in the morning, I awoke to the house shaking. It wasn’t violent like an earthquake. But it was enough to jolt me awake. My first instinct was to dash across the hall to the guest room. By the time I got there, I was too late. A giant hole had opened up in the middle of the room. I saw Amy’s hand sticking up as she fell down the pit. Before I could try and grab her, I knew that I we weren’t alone.

There she was. This time, she looked like a giant stuffed pink bunny. She had only one black one button eye on the left. Red threads like arteries hung from where the right eye should be. The crooked whiskers looked tangled up. I backed up as I could hear her panting. That black eye stared up at me as the hole closed. Her words haunted me still as I write this.

“Come down and join us, doctor!” she said in a childlike doll voice. The sound echoed around the room, making my stomach turn. “We have endless fun. We’re all waiting for you! Come and play with us! You will never want to leave!”

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