floor and shoved him through the hole in the wall, so that at least he might be safe. I then turned back to face the Hooded Man.
"I know what you are, Tormentor!" I said frantically, searching for something, anything that might slow down this abomination. "Siegfried told me all about your kind."
The Hooded Man didn’t even break stride, walking till he had me cornered against a wall. He reached out a pale hand towards me, stroking my cheek and whispering of death. Fear overcame me, stark, raving terror. Lines of a poem I’d written long ago, came back to me, a poem that I wrote to give me courage against the fear.
Who is the Hooded Man / that monster with his chains... One of his hooks snaked out, wrapping around my ankle... Whisperer of death / till no life yet remains... It tugged hard, yanking me off my feet... A stranger in the dark / the sum of all our fears... I struggled up, dazed, but was knocked once more to the ground... No weapon can assail him / neither sword nor pleas nor tears... My head hit hard as I fell and my vision swam... An unstoppable assassin / a Tyrant if you will... Fear was all I felt, so much fear... No one left to stop him / no one left but Nil...
As I lay there, waiting for him to strike again, my mind raced. No one left but Nil. The wardens, the doctors, everyone was oblivious to this creature. If he killed me now, who would stop him? Would he go on to torment others, other patients like Jeremy, like Lana, even crazy little Harold? No one left to stop him. No one but me...
I got to my feet, facing the monster. That was when I changed. I don’t know if it was my confidence in standing up to Derrick only moments before, or my new found freedom, but I was done being afraid. Done being afraid of every single one of them. Done being a victim.
As the Hooded Man reached out his hand once more, I grabbed it and bit it, bit it hard. It evoked an unexpected chuckle from the Tormentor, who otherwise seemed unfazed. Frowning, I yanked hard at his arm and heard a pop as it came loose and fell to the floor. I found myself staring at nothing but your basic, decayed human arm.
My eyes traveled upwards from the arm, to the two ugly yellow lights beneath his hood. One of them winked and I heard the rattle of chains as his hooks once more wrapped around my feet, sweeping them out from under me once more.
I fell and it hurt, but I couldn’t let it stop me. I had to act fast before he finished me. I struggled upright but the hook wrapped tighter around my foot and pulled, knocking me right back to the ground. He wanted my fear and would continue this game as long as he could before finally killing me.
With that in mind, I pretended to be trying to get back to my feet, smiling inside at the fact that he was letting me. Then I lashed out with a shout of anger, letting my fist fly towards whatever excuse for a face lay hidden beneath his hood.
My fist met with nothing but sharpness and pain, though he did take a step back from the impact. I stared in horror at the mangled flesh of my hand, while the Hooded Man laughed and swept my feet from under me yet again.
Tears and blood ran into my eyes, clouding my vision, and I know I was crying for it all to end. The jig was up now that I was fighting back, and I felt those hooks grab me and drag me towards the cloak, towards whatever fate Derrick suffered. I grabbed the edge of the rough fabric and tugged, an unexpected move that made him stumble and nearly fall.
Taking advantage of the moment, I yanked sharply to the left and the Hooded Man toppled sideways, falling to the ground beside me. I scrambled to my feet and headed for the door, stopping in my tracks as I heard the soft slither of falling fabric behind me. I turned as the cloak and hood fell to the ground, revealing the previously hidden form beneath.
It was... like clockwork. The twisted innards of some insane timepiece, all cogs and chains, blades and hooks, and strange things not of this world. Everything was pointed and sharp. It was no wonder I had cut my hand, for his face was like gears made of saw blades, turning and whirring as they sliced through the air. Remnants of Derrick dripped from his torso as it opened and closed like some obscene clawed cage. The two lights on his face, tiny supernovas of hatred, narrowed dangerously as he looked at me.
I was standing now a little outside the door and could have fled so easily from this horror. But I didn’t. For things had changed now and I was no longer merely content to flee. I wanted to ensure first that there was as little as possible to flee from.
So I stood my ground as the monstrosity got to its feet and came at me, it's one dead arm outreached in a claw, hooks writhing across the ground behind it like so many worms. Feet away, the hooks raised into the air, aiming towards my throat as the Hooded Man continued to charge. He was done playing cat and mouse with me and wanted my blood. But I didn’t intend to let him have it...
I waited till the last moment and then slammed the door in his face. The satisfying crunch of metal rewarded me as he collided. Opening it, I grabbed his prone body by its bladed foot, regardless of the pain, and dragged him forwards until his head was in range of my new weapon. With a grim look on my face, I slammed the door once more, crushing the Picasso of metalwork that formed his head. He twitched and started to sit up, but I just slammed the door once again, over and over, until his form was just twisted parts, whirring uselessly like broken gears.
There was a last feeble movement from the Hooded Man, a tiny remnant of whatever mockery of life had animated him. Then he was still. Still and dead, able to torture me no more. It was followed by a sudden flash of light that engulfed his corpse and filled the whole room, forcing me to shield my eyes. It only lasted for a moment, but I stared in awe at the sight that was left behind.
The Hooded Man was gone, a small yellow flower growing out of the floor where he had fallen. It was beautiful, like nothing I’d seen, large yellow petals damp as if with dew, glistening in the sunlight. There was no sunlight and there was no way there should have been dew, yet both adorned the flower all the same. It spoke of hope and of light. I looked up from it, a smile on my face, and realized with alarm that my whole room had changed.
It looked as if brand new, bright and shiny, almost cheerful in appearance. The bed looked comfy and soft, my shelf larger and painted a nice blue, and the hole in the wall was gone. Everything just seemed better. And the clock! That evil clock was dead and gone, replaced by a cute painting of a girl in a field of yellow flowers. I looked at that painting for a while, actually smiling at how happy that girl made me, until I saw that it was me! A different me, a... happier me. A me that was full of joy and picking flowers.
I glanced between the flower on the floor and the painting on the wall. There was something there. I wasn’t sure what, but it was there all the same. I walked over to the bed, a deep blue like the shelf and full of warmth.
Somehow I found myself upon it, laying my head back upon the soft pillows. Tired from my endeavors, not caring now if anyone found me, I fell asleep in exhaustion. I feel like my life has begun anew.
Nil, Out.
Day 64
I slept soundly and undisturbed. Since I’d been moved to the room with the Mushrooms, this one had remained unoccupied. It occurred to me with a smile that I could probably just camp out here indefinitely and no one would ever know. I’d need food, but maybe Mousy could help scrounge that up for me.
For a while I just lay with my eyes closed, enjoying the peace and safety, thinking over what had happened the day before. I’d won. I’d faced my worst fear, the Hooded Man, and beat him. Nothing could stop me now. I was getting out. I was going to win my freedom.
Deciding there was no point in waiting around any longer, I opened my eyes and found myself bathed in a warming light, as if the sun were peeking through an open window. There was no window. Frowning, I pushed myself up with my hands and felt a sharp pain shoot through the right one.
Panicking as all the memories of how badly damaged it was came flooding back to me, I raised it up to my eyes, expecting to see little more than a bloody stump. All of my fingers were intact and all that marred my pale fle
sh were tiny wounds, little more than paper cuts. I flexed my fingers once or twice just to make sure and found them in perfect working order. My hand had mostly healed overnight...
An image of Siegfried popped into my mind, and I wondered just what his role in all of this was. My eyes wandered to Mousy, snoring restlessly (or rustlessly, as he made that signature sound instead of snorts) as he lay on the foot of the bed, like a miniscule guardian angel keeping watch.
I poked him gently and at once his blue eyes snapped open, swiveling back and forth. For just a moment, as I’d seen once before, there was something more in his eyes than his small form hinted at. Something all too human.
"Do you trust me, Mousy?" I asked him.
He looked up at me, the wariness of his eyes fading to be replaced by a softness that answered my question. Then he rustled once, a pointed yes.
"I trust you too, Mousy. You’re the best friend I’ve got. So tell me what’s going on. Who are you, who is Siegfried?"
He rustled again, a longer, protracted rustle, with more than a note of frustration in it. But I understood what he meant. Mousy wanted to help me understand, to answer all the questions he could. But he could only speak in rustle. He was able to help me, but unable to speak