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Fighting for Her Soul

“They’re coming for me!” A woman behind a locked door screamed.

“Who is that?” I asked Mark. He held his finger up to his lips indicating that I should be silent. I heard someone throw themselves at the inside of the door.

“If someone is there…” spoke a voice hoarse from screaming. I moved closer to the door hesitantly, much to Mark’s distress. I pressed my right ear to the door.

“Who’s coming for you?” I asked.

“The monsters,” she whispered. She started chanting.

“They’re coming for me in two days time,

to take everything that once was mine,

when the second moon makes its shine.

They bear bat’s teeth and wolf’s wings,

and not one bird dares to sing.

There is no escape from those devilish things.”

She continued to repeat those lines over again and Mark pulled me away from the door and down the hall, apologizing profusely for the scene and explaining that there was a reason that her room had been locked.

Still. Monsters, lycanthropy. It couldn’t be a coincidence. I made a mental note to look up the next blue moon when I had the chance.

“What about the first patient?” I asked. “With lycanthropy? May I see him?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said solemnly.

“And why is that?” He tried to brush it off, but he looked very scared.

“I can assure you that nothing like that will happen again. We have a better staff now and-”

“What happened?” I enunciated each word clearly and directly, as if speaking to a child.

“He’s escaped,” Mark nearly whispered. “But I-”

He was interrupted by a loud boom of thunder and I screamed. I don’t know why. I’m not scared of thunder. It’s just vibrations accompanying hot air expanding. A cackle of laughter sounded from within the asylum and I could hear Mark yelling after me as my feet carried me rapidly down the hall to the locked exit door.

Why did I think it wouldn’t be locked? This is an asylum. More than that, it’s Broadmoor. Mark chased after me. Why was I trying to run away anyway? I’m not scared of thunder. I’m not scared of asylums. Still, my breath came out faster and my heart pounded like it was trying to escape from my chest.

I felt like I had been here before, but I couldn’t remember.

My hand kept pounding on the door, trying to escape. My face was wet with tears and sweat.

Then I was outside. I could only vaguely remember Mark letting me out. I was running as fast as I could, away from all of this.

There was something about the combination of the thunder and the asylum walls and the screaming man that sent pure terror coursing through my veins.

I stopped for a second to catch my breath. My dress was torn and my feet ached from running in these shoes. I could feel myself calming down, now that I was away from all of that. But now I had a new problem: It was so dark that I could hardly see and still storming fiercely.

It still made no sense.

But at the same time, I smiled softly because for the first time in my life, I remembered something about my childhood. Not a complete memory, but the strong emotions of a memory.

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