I am in a way an artist, my mind is always hurt and it helps me relieve everything in my mind. Art is basically a bandage on my open wound; it’s better than salt and not as good as stitches that would help heal it. I am planning to be an author and a performer, but, there’s no way they would let me become what I feel is right. They think I’m crazy, that’s the whole reason they had locked me up in the white cell. I didn’t kill Joseph Henderson out of cold blood; he killed my birth mother, and then tried to kill me. Nobody believes me, no matter how many times I argue with them. In the white cell, my hands are always quavering; it’s hard to talk to others besides my parents, Dr. Robertson, or any of my close relatives.

When I’m not being spoken to I speak to my friends, others talk way too much to the point where I can’t hear myself think. I always have people knocking on my cell door asking questions and wanting interviews, all of them think I’m some kind of devil worshipper or a free-mason, but I’m not, I am a Christian. Nuns are the best to talk to me, they bless me and want to help but then again they too are a bandage on my deep open cut that always hurts and is starting to get infected.

Today, I had a woman come by my cell. It was a perfectly still day, too bright in my eyes. The morning was blue with perfect white clouds in the sky. I like hazy days with lots of fog, no planes in the sky, no birds. I always liked to sit down under a tree with a copy of Gray’s Anatomy and a crisp fresh apple on a foggy day where nobody would bug me at all. I just kind of sat there in my cell that day, talking to Mary Ann and Silver Beetle, waiting for Dr. Robertson to come. Instead I got this woman in her mid-thirties, with mulberry dyed hair, with red lipstick and a very tight white nurse outfit. She sat down with me as I held Mary Ann tight within my arms. “So, what shall I refer to you by?” She asked, “I am known by many names my sister, but, forever, my birth name is Steven. So, you could just refer to me as only Steven. Now, who am I speaking with?” I told her as I had grinned.

She smiled, her teeth glistening under the shiny red lipstick, “You could just call me ‘Nurse Rozetta’.” I grabbed my only white strand of hair and stroked it, “you must be a Cooper fan then, huh?” I asked, my face going blank, staring up at a fly sitting on the right wall with the paintings. She nodded, I wonder how she could breathe with such a tight dress on, I thought to myself.

“You look like might want to get out of this Ce- I mean room,” she said, covering up her words. My yellow eyes flashed back to her “You know, it’s awfully stuffy in here, the light is dim, and it’s better to occupy the mind than to waste it just sitting in here,” I looked up at the straw colored light and the moth bitten cloth ceiling and sighed. She was awfully right; it gets quite boring in here when nobody was in here. She stopped looking at me and looked up at the paintings on the walls, particularly the one with the man with sharp teeth and horns screaming in profile. I looked back at the painting “I like that one; too, it really captures my emotions.” She then stared at the doll in my arms, “Who’s that?” She asked, faking a smile.

“My friend, Mary Ann, Mommy brought her to me to keep me company. A lot of my toys are broken; Uncle Joseph broke most of them, melted all my records. Beat his sister, and beat me, left numerous scars,” I told her, feeling the long white scar that crawled from my eye to the bottom of my chin, it looked like a strand of tears that never got caught. “Father saved me just in time, took me to Phoenix, Arizona, not too long after, he lost custody of me because he had been a paranoid schizophrenic and was said to be ‘unfit’ to raise me. He later adopted me again, but mother never really cared for me.” I told her, she sighed, smile now officially gone.

There we were sitting at a blue hard wood and plastic bench, I was sketching out a drawing in my black notebook and she just kind of sat there in front of me. There were a lot of crazy people walking around us, some were laughing, some were quietly playing a game of chess, and there were even some that were crying. I was in the Elmwood Springs Insane Asylum for the Criminally Insane, I’ll only be here for the whole summer because they want to dissect everything they can dig out of my mind, but they now know that my skull is hard to expose and that my brain is only dark grey and almost half dead from the things I have witnessed. Grey is the same color as my skin. My friend Anthony Sterling came by us wearing the protective mask covering his face and the men in white coats watching him.

“Hey Spider, what are you doing on this fine after noon?” He said I like it when friends call me ‘Spider’, my birth mother always called me that. She named me Steven after her favorite Alice Cooper song, sad thing she never really knew what to do with me, left me in an insane asylum in Phoenix. “You know I mostly ever draw my feelings out on paper or canvas, Anthony,” I replied, Anthony is a strange man; he reminds me a lot of Ed Gein if I ever met him. He’s a real nice man but the reason he was here was because the voices in his head told him to kill ‘Alice’, he never knew who that was so he killed 8 women by the name of Alice in different ways, dressing them in dresses and caked on make-up. He ate a part of each woman and took a lock of their hair to make a wig for himself to wear in his own enjoyment. Ever since he’s been in Elmwood Springs he’s developed an acute development of Trichotillomania, he has to wear a special mask to stop him from pulling and eating more of his reddish brown hair. He also has a fetish for hair called Trichophilia. Sorry if I’m rambling I have a tendency for doing that.

Anthony smiled under the plastic mask that fogged up when he breathed; He turned his dull blue eyes to ‘Rozetta’ sitting across from him. “Hello, Sweetie. Say, why do you call yourself Nurse Rozetta?” He asked looking deep into her eyes. She started to look uneasy; she tried to look away multiple times. I could tell her heart started to beat rapidly and her breathing jump up to one breath every 2 seconds. I had grinned, the smile caked on my face like my dad’s make-up at a concert.

She and Anthony both just stared at each other for a while until Rozetta finally broke the silence, “I-I-I really don’t know, I’m not even a nurse, I’m a doctor. My name is Dr. Rose.” Anthony grinned, “I knew I could get to you. You know, if you want to work here you really can’t let lunatics like me get into you, a lot of people here are crazier than me,” he said pulling up his hair and laughing, the men came rushing towards us and grabbed at Anthony.

“It’s okay!” Dr. Rose yelled at the muscular men who then disappeared back into the shadows. “You take good care of Steven now, remember, he can be a real monster,” he said, stroking my hair, “So not true,” I said as I watched him get up from the bench. Anthony turned to Dr. Rose and grinned, “Why did you dye your hair? It was such a wonderful black color before you put in the chemicals. Trust me, curly black hair would look gorgeous on you,” He said putting a hand on Dr. Rose’s hair and stroking. He lifted up the heavy plastic mask from his face, bent down, and pecked me on my cheek, “I hope you see the blue birds and sunny skies soon, boy. It’s not nice to see only one color all the time,” he whispered in my ear. I hoped to see the skies dark and the gravestone of my birth mother when I got out, and hopefully see Mommy 9-months pregnant.

“What are you drawing?” Asked Dr. Rose, curious as to know what I had been drawing for a while. “I’m drawing Daddy,” I told her, the drawing was of Daddy, he was being held hostage by Uncle Joseph whom has a knife at the neck of Daddy. I drew Uncle Joseph with devil horns and red skin. He must be in Hell right now, burning in the torturous pit of inferno, I always smile at that thought. “I’m drawing both Daddy and Uncle Joseph,” I added, “is it possible I could see it?” she asked smiling. She was probably waiting for a pretty little picture of them holding hands in a blue sky with green grass under their feet, but nope. I hesitated to show it to her but I finally toughened up and showed her the sketch so far. “It’s not finished just yet,” I told her. Her eyes opened wide with fear, every strand of hair on the back of her neck stood up and her heart raced in her chest. She put her hand to her chest to calm her breathing; I started to feel the same as her after the thought that I might have it taken away from me again.

She started to flip through the other drawings and paintings in the note book, please don’t do that, please don’t, I thought to myself as I could feel a cold drop of sweat dribble down my forehead. Suddenly, I felt a strong arm hit my chest and grab me from behind, and a strong hand grabbed my arm. I tried to free myself as I was being held but the grip tightened every time. The hand ripped off my voice simulator from my back, the way it fell down and the phonograph bell cracked I already knew my fate.

I had awoken drugged out of my mind, a strand of saliva dribble down the corner of my mouth. I was strapped down in my bed; I was in a strait jacket as well. I could still move my head left and right but my whole body was so numb. A house fly started to fly around my face and landed on the tip of my nose, I’m not going to swat you. You seem like a nice fly, I won’t even touch you.

It’s Rozetta I want to waste my energy on; her neck is strong and thin. The thought of having the woman’s life in my hands was sweeter than the chocolate Daddy gave me when I behaved well. I thought to myself, I smiled and the fly flew away to the ceiling. Don’t go fly, I’m not a real spider, I’m not even a monster…or am I? I suddenly thought to myself, Am I really crazy? I sat at the thought for a while, repeating it a couple times in my mind. I looked at the paintings I had done on the wall, one was of a fetus in a uterus, and another was of Eve with a snake wrapped around her naked body, no. No, no! Steven, you’re not crazy at all. You are yourself, yourself and only yourself.

I remember Daddy once saying this to me as I had asked him if I was a lunatic. I smiled and tried to laugh, I’m not crazy; I’m not crazy at all. Where did you come up with that, Steven?

Dr. Rose visited me again; it was quite early in the morning this time. My pocket-watch that I kept on the floor told me it had been 6:00 in the morning. I woke up in my bed, with Silver Beetle screaming at me, Wake up Steven! Rozetta is coming, I heard him say. Rozetta did eventually come almost immediately after Silver Beetle had said so. She came in and sat down on the bed, I sat up. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a beautiful little boy?” She asked. I pulled out a lined notebook and pen. So was Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker, I wrote to her. “You’re nothing like that, Steven,” she said, smile disappearing and putting a hand on the top of my head.

It’s a strange thing that Daddy looks like him, but of course Daddy’s a Christian, not a Satanist. I wrote smiling slightly. Daddy and I both wear crucifixes around our necks, mine is made of gold and his was made of beads and silver. “There’s some people who came to see you today,” she said smile appearing again. Could I bring Katy? I wrote, Katy was a scruffy little brown bear that I sleep with every night, she keeps me company. She nodded, hugging me.

This time I could tell the smile was real, part of me said that it had to have been father. She grabbed my right hand and we got off the bed, slowly so I could be in control of my prosthetic leg. We ran out the door once I got used to it, smiling and giggling the whole way there.

We walked out of the elevator and immediately I had noticed that the tall and thin man standing next to the visiting room door was my good old father. I ran as fast as I could towards him with the biggest smile I could give. I gave him a big hug and squeezed him real tight in my arms; he picked me up so I was at his chest and neck. He smelt of alcohol and cigars with a bit of feminine perfume and deodorant that still managed to float beneath it all. His hair was clean and neatly brushed; it was the perfect shade of black. He looked like skin in bones with hair; he drank a lot to the point where he was malnourished.

I wished he wasn’t an alcoholic, Mommy has told him a couple of times that when the baby comes that he’ll have to stop. Daddy’s a really tall man and so is his wife, it’s a shame I was more of the run of the litter, the smallest offspring of his seed. My brother and I don't even look like him. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, his breath smelt of rotten meat and gin.

We sat down at one of the table, Dr. Rose following behind because she wanted something. “Is it possible I could get your autograph?” She asked, smiling joyfully. “Sure, it’s going to a friend,” he replied. He pulled out a small notepad and ballpoint pen, “I have no use for this anymore,” he then signed it Michael Harrison in an old calligraphy copperplate style. He handed it to her and smiled slightly. She took it and disappeared with it somewhere. “I see you have Katy with you,” he said, I had Katy in my arms. “Aren’t you getting a bit old for Katy?” Asked Daddy, I shook my head. Along with Daddy was his band, Mind Sick and Wealthy, a lot of the members were family.

The entire band lived with us in the Harrison Mansion, the biggest Mansion in the North East area. His smile slightly disappeared as he asked how I have been doing. I looked away, back at him, and shook my head. “When do you think I could get out?” I mouthed, “I don’t know, Spider,” he said in a heavy hearted tone. I put my arms around him and rested my head on his shoulder. “Soon, I hope it’ll be soon,” he said pushing me towards his chest as he wrapped his arm around my back. I let go of him and listened to the beating of his heart. Listening to his chest was like a drum beating in his chest. The way he breathed in and out was soothing. Before I knew it tears were falling down my cheeks. “Steven?” He whispered, I nodded, “You’re crying again,” whispered Daddy. Every time I cry, I cry blood, the black tar known as my blood. “It’s all right to cry if you want to, just as long as you do it softly,” he said putting his skinny hand on my head, stroking my hair softly. I sat on his lap, crying softly, and listening to Daddy’s heart beat as he stroked my hair. “Your mom and I both worry about you. Just please be on your best behavior when you’re in here, because to them you’re just a suspect they don’t trust. You are always going to be my little Spider, no matter what, I will always love you,” Daddy told me.

I desperately wanted to say I loved him but I couldn’t. I looked up and mouthed the words ‘I love you, too’. I sat down my head again, “Julia’s doing fine if you were wondering, and she’s going on 4 months. Incredibly healthy so far, and you want to know something?” He asked, I stopped crying and wiped my tears slightly, ‘what?’ he grew a big smile showing his incredibly sharp teeth that ganged up on the incisor teeth. I was expecting him to say that the fetus in the womb of my substitute mother was going to be female.

“It’s going to be a girl,” he said, I smiled and hugged him tight again. “You know, when Dr. Edison told her that she came running home saying that she wanted to name the child
Emily, do you know where that came from? I obviously don’t know,” he said, I let him go, still smiling and pointed to myself, joyfully. “I remember her saying everything, ‘oh Sheryl I’ll name her Emily, how about that name? Hey Sweetie, what do you think about that name?’” Said Daddy trying to imitate his wife in an annoying voice, but he did it in a playful way. I smiled along with him, if only I could laugh, I thought.

Daddy had given me a pen, a calligraphy pen to be exact. He had made it himself using silver he melted and formed to that shape. It looked like a quill but the nib was made from silver, and on top of that were two skulls, they too were made from silver. Daddy said he had talked to Dr. Robertson and Dr. Robert Lynch, the warden and they both said that it was okay for me to have, despite it being considered a weapon and I still have stiches in my side since a few days ago when I had cut myself with a ballpoint pen that Dr. Robertson had left behind in my cell. I remember that horrible day and I probably always will.

I could hear a baby crying and my mother screaming my name, “Steven! Steven! Steven, come here!” I then saw a black and white tile floor splattered with blood. I couldn’t take it anymore and cut myself with it real hard. It was really nice of him to make that pen for me, he said that there was more to go along with it but I still loved that pen. He handed me a tan duffel bag filled with different items in it, I hadn’t peeked in it at all besides maybe the chocolate bar Uncle Vectron had handed me, but I don’t think that counts.

Daddy told me there had been a ‘big surprise’ in the duffel bag and that I would have to ‘use it when I am alone and no one at all is watching’. I thought I would have to do it in the restroom. I knew what it was slightly if I thought about it, a bag of crimson liquid. Later after the band had left, Daddy was still there for some reason; I grabbed my new duffel bag and asked Dr. Rose if I could use the restroom.

I pulled the zipper and opened it, there sitting on the top was a medicine bag filled with the thing I needed most of all. I snatched it really fast and held it in both of my hands; I sat in the stall just staring at the medicine package. It drove me closer and closer to it every second I spent just forcing myself to look at it. My vision went black and white when I drove my canine teeth into flat side next to the label. I made two holes and the liquid oozed out, I tipped it sideways so it would fall out and escape into my mouth. I drank it like a man who was in a desert who hadn’t had water in an incredibly long time, because that’s how I felt. I wouldn’t normally have it this cold, but there was no way I could possibly wait anymore or warm it up in a microwave.

A drop of it fell down my lips and onto my chin; I swallowed the last drop and prayed. I thanked the lord and savior I had finally had something to feast upon. I put my hands down and the now empty package, I had made a small mess. A few puddles on the clean tile, “Steven? Are you alright in there?” I heard Daddy call. I heard his footsteps come closer and closer to the handicapped stall I was in. I was shaking all over, mainly because I hadn’t had any blood to drink in so long, a couple of days in fact. I sometimes go into hallucinogenic states when I run low on the crimson liquid, it’s like a drug to us.

He knocked on the stall door impatiently, “Daddy?” I tried to say the loudest I could try, Daddy had heard me and busted the locked door in, I had still been in my zoned out state. The room started twisting and turning, the walls came closer and closer towards me, when the door opened I had seen my Daddy. I struggled to get up, my eyes still entirely black and I only seeing black and white like an old film. Almost immediately after doing so I slipped on one of the puddles of blood I had spilt on the clean blue tile. I hit my head on the white painted brick wall and the last thing I had remembered was my father screaming and lunging towards me as I only saw the busted hinges of the door and the blue floor coming towards me like a raging beast.

I had found myself staring at the blinding light of the ceiling lights staring me in the face. I flinched slightly, looking away. I then laid in the fetal position with my tail making a complete circle as I looked at it; I stuck my thumb into my mouth and enclosed my lips around it.

The voices didn’t want to talk to me at this time, instead it was a man’s whisper, and I was too tired to make out who it had been. “He really is a fighter, no matter what the world tries to bring on him. I wish the best for him you know, Julia. He’s my son after all,” I felt a warm hand stroke my hair and touch my cheek with the back of a finger. The finger was sharp and ridged, old and wrinkled it felt, it didn’t feel like my father’s and was certainly not my mother’s. Maybe I was too tired to feel much, my mind is not at all perfect, afterall.

I had officially woken up knowing I was in a hospital bed, there were many wires connected to my body, one of them was a heart monitor. There was a tube that pumped fresh air into my two nostrils. To the left of me was Daddy who fell asleep reading a first edition of Richard Bolch’s novel, Psycho. His make-up had smeared horribly on because he had been crying; he hadn’t dared to wipe it off before it dried. “I’m glad you’re finally awake, sweetheart,” I heard Mommy say from the right of me. My eyes turned to her and I smiled. “You know you have your father’s smile? It looks so adorable on you,” She said, oh please, Daddy’s smile belongs only on his face, not mine. Daddy’s smile on his feminine face is quite charming and sweet. I noticed that my left eye was covered with a bandage that wrapped around my head. Mommy dressed all in white and looked like an angel.

She held Babe with care and had one hand on her stomach, “mind if I sit down with you?” She asked. I shrugged; she crawled into the bed without much struggle besides Babe squirming around on her neck. She sat on the right of me so I could feel her stomach. “Michael told you, didn’t he?” She asked, I nodded, smiling merrily. I laid my head on her stomach and listened. “You have been making a good impression on everyone at Elmwood Springs haven’t you?” Mommy asked, “Besides maybe the incident I should add.” I shook my head; there really wasn’t much that I remembered that had been in any particular order. “I have Katy with me if you were wondering where she was,” she said, I got up.

I looked around, “No need to be that impatient, Steven,” she laughed. She bent down to the right of her and grabbed Katy, who was on the floor. “There she is!” Said Mommy, she sat Katy down on the bed next to me. I then grabbed Katy and held her close to me, after this I put my head back down on Mommy. “You really are a sweet boy,” she said putting a hand on my shraggily hair. Babe, the Royal Python came down my shoulder and came near my face. I smiled at Babe as she flinched. Please don’t Babe, I’m your best friend remember? I thought. You always will be my best friend when you think of it; Babe just kind of stared at me with eyes that looked up at me. “Have you been taking your medicine?” She asked, breaking the silence. There was no way that I could lie to my mother yet I struggled to get out the truth to her. I shook my head, no, I hadn’t taken it. The voices in my cloudy and cluttered mind told me it was poison, I thought.

It’s amazing that I could actually hear my voice in my head at the time. “Yeah, Monster was telling me this when they brought you into the hospital. He said you were hallucinating with black eyes and blood dripping out of your mouth,” she said, I nodded. My right hand started to shake so I had put it on Mommy’s stomach to calm it down. Her body was warm and she smelt like my home, she smelt of raspberries, ink, and incense. It was an acquired smell but you could get used to it if you lived in the house almost every day. At Elmwood Springs, everything smells like cheap cleaner that smell like apples with a hint of sulfur underneath, the scent of Hell.

A few minutes after they had left a journalist came busting in with a large flash camera with the wires and the large flash that was powered by a LED light. I didn’t have time to answer yes or no to the question of whether or not he should do an interview. He said he wanted a few pictures with the camera. The man looked like a druggy, he looked like he really needed a cigarette or to shoot some Coca-Cola [1]. The glasses on his head barely fit because they were too large on him, his eyes were silver and his hair was brown and shaggy. He handed me a notepad exactly like the one I had back at the cell. “Here you go Steven, this is ours,” he said while faking a smile.

A pen was clipped onto the thin notebook so I could write, a black ballpoint pen. Instead of immediately writing something I turned my attention to the man. I clenched my fist then I grabbed him by the neck and squeezed my thumbs into the inside of his neck and pressed as hard as I could. I hate paparazzi, I thought to myself, smiling. I must kill Nurse Rozetta next, I wrote on the notepad, pressing the bloodied thumb onto the paper. I saw the man’s body fall limp to the floor and bleed out; he was squirming around trying desperately to breath, but I busted his trachea. I loved it to see people bleed out, it was interesting.

I rubbed my sore and newly awoken eyes, “It was just a dream, it was just a dream, it was just a dream,” I whispered to myself closing my eyes trying to erase the horror I had witnessed in my nightmare. “Spider, are you okay?” I heard Daddy ask. I nodded, opening my yellow eyes again. I was still lying on Mommy’s stomach with Babe on my shoulder. I listened to her heart beat and echo, and sometimes I felt like I could possibly hear Emily’s heart. “Good Afternoon, sweetheart,” she said. I finally got up, holding Babe in my hands as I sat up. I perched my legs up and thought about my happy place. I was now in a graveyard with father holding me in his arms, holding me real tight. It was night time and the sky was fully dark, Daddy wasn’t anorexic or smelled of alcohol or cigars.

Nobody was bothering us besides Mommy who finally came by and sat by the both of us and hugged Daddy. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Daddy asked standing right next to me the whole time. I jumped a little bit as I escaped my daze. “You’ve been staring into space for a few minutes, son,” he told me. He started to look a little worried for me, he put my chin in his hand and observed me. I shrugged as he put his hand down. He bent over to Mommy, “Four Months and going strong,” he said putting his right hand on Mommy’s stomach. Daddy turned to me with a big old jolly smile, “I remember when you were this young, boy!”

He yelled putting the hand on my head instead of Mommy, he ruffled my hair a little bit but not enough to make it sorer than it already was. “You were the biggest problem and the smallest of the litter. You kicked and moved the most,” Mommy giggled.

“May Sister Sarah rest in peace,” said Daddy, darkening the mood entirely. I laid my head down on Mommy’s shoulder nearest me. I saw myself in the mirror putting on Alice Cooper make-up, “Daddy would want me to do this, and Mommy would want me to do this. Mother needs my help down there, I-I-I-I’m her little child,” I heard myself say to my reflection. I then grabbed a shot gun I had behind me and cocked it while smiling a grin and planning to go downstairs. There was no way I could finish the thought, no absolute way. “Yeah, that night deeply traumatized the boy,” said Mommy, traumatized is not the word I would have used.

It pierced my mind like a scavenger pierces its jaws into a cold and long dead carcass. It always will be there like a scar, you could try to hide it with make-up but it will be there forever. It took away part of your skin and grew back only to have it white and look nothing like the skin next to that very scar, that very scar sticks out like a sore thumb when looking at it.

The door opened and a very familiar man appeared outside of it, he held a box in his hand as he smiled showing uneven and crooked teeth. It was Uncle Stanley, a really nice man who lived with us. I hadn’t seen him in a while and was happy to see him again. He held a box in his arm that was quite small and black with a red ribbon tied around it. “You only have about five minute to go,” he said. He walked up close to me and smiled. Daddy was a giant compared to everybody who walked up to him and Mommy was the tallest compared to every woman that walked up to her. Stan handed me the box slowly and carefully to not disrupt the contents, “Oh, who’s that from?” asked Mommy.

I would like to have known also, I sometimes get strange boxes with no names, the contents always frighten me. There was one time when I got a strange box come to my cell door, the men in white coats didn’t know about and opening it I found it to be a dead goats head with a piece of paper with Hebrew words written in the goat’s blood.

This box was too small for something like that. “I’m not quite sure, the sender never left any information and I’m not quite sure the meaning behind it. The sender wanted to be called ‘Guardian Angel’ if you wanted to know,” he said, unsure. “I put something in there for you, Steven,” he said, “You still have a little bit of blood on your mouth.” I smiled, I thanked him for everything, he then called me a monkey and left. Mommy smiled and looked down at me, “He’s right,” she said, she then stuck out her long forked tongue and licked my chin and around my mouth. It tickled when she did that and it wasn’t that wet. I told her to stop; she kissed me on my forehead twice and finally stopped. My attention turned to the box again; I felt the top and looked at the large red ribbon.

I grabbed one of the two open strings and tugged on it slightly, collapsing the ‘ear’ of the simple knot. Mommy and Daddy both looked at the box I was slowly opening now. The room fell silent as I opened the ribbon, the only sound was the sound going on was my heart thudding like a drum and Babe’s forked tongue going in and out but that didn’t make much noise. The voices refused to talk because Daddy had shoved a pill down my throat when I was passed out. I pulled the lid up as everybody watched with staring eyes. Inside the box was tissue paper, pulling that out of the way was black leather bound book and a rose. I picked up the book first, feeling the rough front and back cover. I turned it to its side and saw the spine, it read: STEVEN HARRISON-THE SPIDER.

A chill ran down my back, my heart started to beat rapidly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up slightly and my hands started to quiver again. I’m not quite sure why to tell you the truth, but I had a feeling it was because the media always calls me the ‘Grey Faced Boy’ rather than ‘Spider’. “Are you alright, Spider?” asked Daddy, I looked up at him and showed him the book, “It could easily have been Dr. Robertson or Anthony,” he said trying to calm me down. He put a hand on my shoulder and faked a smile.

I knew he had a thought within his head yelling at him the opposite answer, his true thoughts and feelings. Even Daddy’s heart raced, Mommy was fine with everything though. I opened up the book and inside was a picture; it was a picture of Emily in an ultra-sound. On the back was written in red ink, “’Emily, 4 months, 28 Days.’ -Dr. Stanley Edison”

“That was very nice of him to give you that,” said Mommy. I smiled, putting back the Polaroid back into the notebook. On the first page were lyrics to a favorite song of mine, ‘Shine on You Crazy Diamond’. The song of course was written by all the members of Pink Floyd. The lyrics were written in black ink, which bled through the paper. I started flipping through the book and saw that it was a notebook. Another black notebook for me to draw in, how nice! I thought to myself forgetting the fact that the person who sent it might as well be a stalker. “If only we knew the sender, it would be a lot nicer and charming,” Said Mommy. I agreed perfectly with that statement. I put it back in the box and picked up the rose. The rose was painted, it was originally been white but it had been painted red. Painted red with acrylic paints.

Daddy looked at his watch and sighed, “We’ve already wasted our few minutes already, Julia,” he said, he picked up his jacket and novel. He then put it on, and I tugged on his sleeve when he wasn’t looking. “Yes, Steven,” he said, I picked up the notebook up again and opened it, I found a pen that laid on the bed next to me and picked it up.

I had a horrible dream while I was sleeping, I wrote down and showed him. “It’s alright, Steven, it was just a dream,” he said putting his hand on my back. I didn’t understand it at all, I wrote. My face had gone completely blank like it had been a couple times already. He sighed and didn’t say anymore, “It was just a dream, Steven,” said Mommy picking up Babe from my shoulder.

It had been awhile since they all left. I collapsed in a corner, the voices yelled insults at me. Silver Beetle was nowhere in sight and flies circled around me like crazy. I tried to shoo all of them away but there was too many of them. I covered my eyes and started to cry. My sobbing would be a better sound than the swarming of the flies and the angry voices screaming at me. My tears were black again, black tears on grey skin, nothing like roses on white lace. I hate to say that I’ve peeked down her dress to see her but she wears a white brassiere laced with white lace. I wonder what’s underneath everything. The rose colored liquid I expect. I wonder what she tastes like.

Stop it Steven, you’re only eleven!

I didn’t mean that, I meant everything underneath the skin.

Daddy would despise of something of this nature you know.

Dr. Rose is probably never going to be found. When they do find her, her face will look better than it already is. Bruises, a black eye, claw marks, a cross engraved within her cheek, no jaw, heart and uterus taken out, broken and twisted nails, and most of all, her pink brain exposed.

Steven, stop this right now!

Why stop now? I’m just planning ahead of time.

That voice went away after a while of not arguing. I’m nothing but a horrible monster I thought. What has come of me? I don’t know why I’m thinking of something like this. I need to stop, I really need to. Then came the halo of flies again, and the yelling voices. Stop! Stop! Stop! I tried to yell back at them but I couldn’t at all. If only I could talk back, if only I could talk, I thought to myself crying loudly again. I cried for what felt like an hour of flies and voices. Under all of this I could hear the door opening right next to me. ”God, Is that you coming for me to release me from this Hell the Fallen Angel had put me under?” I asked crawling towards the light and grabbing the ankles of the person who stood by the door.

I had still been crying and sobbing black tears when I grabbed the person’s ankle. “Release Me!” I yell the loudest I could say, “Release me!” I repeated. “God bless you child,” I heard a voice say. I couldn’t understand who it had been because the voices were too loud. I did know that the voice was awfully familiar and that it was a woman’s voice.

I wrote on the second page of the notebook, next to the text I drew a picture of a spider next to a carousel horse. Lying down on the bed, feeling slightly tired. I held Katy tight in my arms and tried to fall asleep. Sleeping on an unfamiliar and foreign bed was strange and really takes a very tired person to rest on one. I was stranded in a perfectly white void, there was snow on the ground and it was freezing cold. I shivered and pulled out my wings to warm up; I could see my breath as well. The sky was white as well and I could slightly hear carousel music playing somewhere. I turned to it and tried looking for it.

The sound got louder and louder as I went towards it, warmer too it felt. It wasn’t until a few minutes that I finally found the carousel; it was spinning around and around, each tiger and mare galloping and prancing. The very sound of the carousel was the same one that had been in my music box I had when I was younger. I was just about to touch one of the horses when all of a sudden, I heard mother calling for me from behind. I looked back only to see her corpse crawling up to me and grabbing my ankle. The flesh peeling off her body, her face wasn’t recognizable and showed the face of a skull. “Steven? Steven, come to my darling!” she asked her voice shaky and sounded nothing like her voice.

I looked back at the carousel so it would calm me down, the yelling disappeared and the horses started to slow down. As it slowed down I saw a younger version of myself riding the black mare. Taking my eyes away from the clone I looked at the horses that were now bleeding out red blood. The horses and tigers bled from the ears, eyes, mouth, and nose. Each one’s face turning more and more frightened as if they were all alive. I looked away from the carousel to see the strange man standing in the same place where mother used to be.

He was a man that often reoccurred in my dreams, he was actually my father, or so I had believed. He was a figure that always appeared in my dream and I sometimes think I had seen the man in real life. The background turned black with golden yellow eyes staring at me, he smiled, opened arms. He wore his top hat with a feather on top and his beautiful silk suit, he was wearing all red. Red was a color he loved to wear and it fit him perfectly.

I ran up to him immediately upon seeing him and collapsed in his arms. His eye were buttons, he also had a pale white face. I loved him because he was a figure that made me feel better, I sometimes think he was actually my father. I started to cry while he held me. He stroked my hair with his cold fingers and shushed me, trying to lull me. His hands were long and cold, he had a face and body similar to mine. The man even had wings like me.

I woke up with my mouth and throat the driest I ever had it. I tried desperately to scream but I couldn’t, I was hopeless. It was just a dream, Steven; I heard a voice in my head say.

I sighed and slouched back down into the hospital bed. I decided maybe I could just take a trip down to the blood closet, freshen up, and stretch my legs a little bit. I got up from the bed and wandered around. I opened the door and escaped without anyone noticing me. I slipped into the elevator and hit the button to go down to the 3rd floor.

After snatching two blood packets I snuck back into my room with still nobody watching. I pulled out my wings from inside my back and tore the gown, they were wet and weren’t ready for flying. I started sucking on the packet once I got it, there was no way I could even torture myself with it. Suddenly, the door opened and I heard a shrill feminine scream. I set the packet down and came towards the sound, my eyes a bright yellow color. I couldn’t imagine the thought that was going through her mind when she saw me, bloodied mouth and yellow piercing eyes with no pupils. No sign of human life was left from what she had seen.

It was Dr. Rose; I didn’t know what she wanted. Without making direct eye contact I grabbed her hand and persuaded her to sit next to the bed. I sat back on the bed and handed her the packet, she was now trying to catch her breath while not looking at me. “No thank you,” she said, I squeezed the rest into my mouth. There was blood all around my mouth. Dr. Rose’s heart pounded again, she was now trying to force back the vomit yet she was still queasy. I licked my lips having the last taste as it started to dry on my mouth. I covered myself with my wings to warm up like I did in my nightmare. “I-I-I really hate to ask, but what are you exactly?” she hesitated to ask, I refused to answer her.

I shook my head, she sighed, and I then licked the dry blood off my mouth with my forked tongue. I rubbed my head because I was having a pounding headache. “Here,” she said holding two pills, “you promise you’ll take them?” She asked, I nodded while picking them up from her hand. I grabbed the glass of water I had on the table next to the bed and held it in my free hand. I then took the pills and swallowed the water to chase it down, “I’m sorry for bothering you all of the time,” she said. “It’s just that Dr. Robertson is in California right now but, he will be coming back real soon. His plain left today, and you might be getting a roommate. His name is Grimm Dylan, he was brought there for killing several animals, a child, and a ba-,” she stopped. “I better not tell you the rest, the very idea of it frightens me,” she said.

I looked at the glass of water in my hand, all you have to do is break it, I thought. Break it and pick up a shard and then ram it into her throat.

“You better not tell anyone about this,” I wrote on another paper. She nodded, “You’re right, the media would go crazy. Dozens of suicides, mass hysteria, and all hell would break loose,” she said in reply. I nodded; I sat perched up in the bed with my legs next to my chest. “You’re a nice kid aren’t you?” I nodded again, my hair flowing everywhere every time I did so. “There was something I want to do for me,” I stopped and looked at her. I looked deep into her bright green eyes, inspecting the many dents within her iris and the very black pit known as her pupil that had enlarged from the darkness in the room.

A thunderclap happened when she opened her mouth to say something. The lightening flashed for a mid-second and lit up the room. My eyes glowing yellow I turned to the rain stained window, each little droplet of rain coming and down, another one pushing another, and one breaking off from one.

The medicine was starting to drown out the voices now; I could tell she gave me a stronger dose than usual. “I want you to take care of my ex-husband,” she said I looked deep into her eyes again, I looked all around. We both had busted the video cameras that were looking at us with that one menacing eye.

I shrugged; I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then the answer hit me like a mule in the back of the head, she wanted me to commit murder. “He has been bugging me a lot lately, mainly about getting back together. I just want my agony to end,” said Dr. Rose. I was surprised by something like this coming out of what looked like a sweet woman.

She looked like the kind of woman that would just spend time with a new boyfriend, sipping wine, and an enjoying an old film. Maybe while alone she would sneak in a copy of ‘Good to See You Again Alice Cooper’. But, instead she was a writer, destined to kill her ex-husband whom she once loved but threw him in the curb to die, drinking on his sorrows. I found another clean page of my notebook and wrote, who? “His name is Dave Ramsey.”

Now, I might actually get going somewhere with this. Since this I had been babbling on and on about how I’m going to kill Dr. Rose, the woman who called herself Nurse Rozetta. Now, I will start fresh and have a new fly to add to the pile in my web. I already started planning on this; because I had a feeling it would be great. I would pull a needle into his arm and shock him with a jolt of electricity while he’s down; causing him to go down into a deep sleep he’ll never awake from.

I stuck out my hand and grinned, we agreed, it felt like signing a deal with the devil. A part of my mind said I shouldn’t have trusted the fly, the fly that got away and broke the web.

When do you think we could do it? I wrote. “Tomorrow, Steven. I’ve told Dr. Robertson that we could go outside and then you can have your chance,” she replied. Is Daddy coming tomorrow? I asked. Dr. Rose didn’t know the answer to the question so she shrugged.

This better not be some kind of trick, I thought. If this was a plot to show the monster within me, I would have to leave no witnesses, including Dr. Rose. Why me Rose? Why not someone else? I wrote in cursive, “because nobody would suspect you, plus you’re the one that is less watched. You’re the youngest child in the Asylum for the Criminally Insane.” I was youngest one I remembered, possibly one of the most dangerous.

I have had a countless number of people die on me. Most of them were suicides, though, my grandmother once came to our house on our birthdays and seen me for the first time. She couldn’t take the fact that the child that her daughter bore could possibly be a demon. Later that day, she electrocuted herself with a radio in the bathtub, in our bathtub no less.

She left with no more words to say and didn’t even look back at me. Standing by the door and about to open it, I heard her whisper something, “What have I done?” She then felt the cold door handle, turned it, and pulled it away from her. I got up, sat in her chair and l stared at the window that was still wet. Droplets fell while some stayed still.

It was raining when I first got to the Insane Asylum. At least the skies were dark, that’s what I always liked about days that rained. I used to love the rain, now every time I see it; I can’t stop thinking of that horrible place they put me in. I focused on every rain drop that fell onto the window and ran down.

There was another loud crash and I escaped my daze immediately. I was back in my room, 11 again. The room was dark and grey, and above the bed was a big crucifix made of wood and gold. It never caught my eye before and I didn’t know it was there until just now. Hospitals rarely have crucifixes on walls to not offend people, so maybe one of the nuns that found me and read the bible to me might have put that up there. I tried desperately to get the idea back but it never came back as hard as I tried. I was perfectly awake now, bored though.

I got up from the chair and paced around the room. The room was quite big and white, bland I thought. If I could color on the walls I could escape to that world I want to see.

There are colors everywhere and my parents are always watch me, there are people who want to see me and talk. I do not like the color white as I had said a couple of other times, refrain from telling me if I do. I stopped and grabbed my notebook from the top of the bed. I sat down on the wooden chair and pondered while staring out the window. ‘Isn’t it strange how the rain falls? Escaping the cloud’s grasp and becoming itself. It’s not entirely alone because there are many others that follow with it. It falls down and down only to end in a horrible way. Why is it that the cloud from the heavens thinks when it creates a droplet? Why even create one when all they are going to do is fall down and escape life? We will never know these very questions because the cloud does not talk or give answers, the cloud only gave them his stories… This is garbage.

I wrote on the paper, I didn’t like it so far. It would be nice to become a writer but I don’t think I’ll ever be worthy, nobody seems to like me and I’ll never get good publicity. I then shut the book incredibly hard and threw it across the room, Damn writer’s block, I thought to myself. When I ever dared to curse, he washes my mouth out with soap. It was a dirty technique but it worked. The only word he ever allowed in the house was ‘twat’.

I grabbed my black, ballpoint pen and started to sketch out an eye on the right wall next to the book. Before I knew it I had drawn on all of the walls, my hand started to hurt, and the ink was starting to run out. I sat in the corner next to the door just like I had done an hour ago. I then waited and waited. I waited till the sun came up and the men in white came to get me again.

I stood in line with others, some were crying. There were all friends or family who came to see her lifeless body. In my hand I held two clean pennies and one rose in the other. I held the rose that I was given by the anonymous sender. Daddy was in front of me, he held my writings in his coat pocket. He gave mother a kiss on her lips and I could see tears falling from his eyes when he did so. He sat down and found a seat next to Mommy, Brother Jason, Jacky, and a strange man wearing all black. It was my turn now; I slowly wheeled up to her and put the pennies on her eyes. I laid the painted rose next to her and smiled slightly as tears fell from my eyes. I stroked her white hair, and dragged my finger across the tiny scar on her forehead. ‘I do not regret killing Joseph,’ I whispered in her ear. It’s amazing that they recovered her body.

“Mommy’s dead!” I heard a young girl yell as the mysterious man held her and tried to calm the girl down. The mysterious man I am talking about had black hair and was quite old with blind eyes. Before giving me away, Mother met another man and finally got married to him. They had a child together, but I haven’t seen the father in a while. I then wheeled back to the space next to Daddy. “Don’t even look at me!” he snapped at me, the audience turned to him with disgust. “Michael calm down,” said Mommy putting a hand on his shoulder. “She threw you away for good reason you fucking wind-up toy!” He yelled and the priest stopped talking. He clenched his fist with anger while Mommy was still trying to comfort him, “Stop it!” Mommy yelled.

I started to cry again, Daddy threw a punch at Mommy. She too started to cry, it made a loud cracking sound when he hit her. The crowd went crazy and yelled at Daddy. A man grabbed at him and pulled him away from the funeral. Daddy had hit Mommy right in the eye, a shiner that one would be. He punched her so hard she was bleeding all over the place. I sat in my wheelchair crying and sobbing silently, Daddy has never acted like this before. I was dumbfounded and frightened, I shook and held myself. Mommy had to be taken to the hospital by the mysterious man. There was a man with grey hair that came by and asked if I wanted to get out. I agreed to the question and he showed me a tree in the graveyard. He pushed me over to the tree where we sat and talked. “I would get tea for you if we weren’t here right now,” he said. He wore a British accent in his voice which was quite thick. I would totally go for tea if we could, I would have said.

Having some tea with someone while watching ‘Doctor Who’, my favorite TV show. I asked him if it was okay if I could come over to his house, he agreed and he seemed to be a nice young man. I could tell from his face hat he was merely 20 years old. He was supposedly an ex-boyfriend and a best friend to Mother. He hadn’t given me his name at first.

His living room filled with the smell of tea, there was a mother dog nursing multiple pups loudly, and his couch which I sat on was old and used. The wallpaper was quite hideous with flowers and stripes, the couch looked very similar to this roses and the color red. A lot of threads in the couch had been pulled, making the feeling of it rough and used. We sat in front of each other waiting for whoever to make the first sentence. “Do your parents fight often?” He asked while I shook my head. “No sir, this is the first time I’ve ever seen this happen,” I mouthed. I then heard a baby cry from another room, I jumped slightly. “Excuse me for a second,” he said getting up from his chair.

The chair he sat in was made of a comfy green material, much softer than the couch I was sitting on I assumed. He then disappeared from my sight and I stared at the dog lying on the polished wood floor. To me the do looked like it might have been an Australian Silky Terrier. All of the puppies and the mother were quite dainty. I smiled slightly as the dog looked at me. The Grey Man came back holding a baby wrapped in a blanket, he sat back down on his green chair. The child couldn’t have been older than 3 months; he cradled the baby in his arms and rocked the green chair back and forth.

“Steven, would you be a dear and grab a bottle from the fridge and warm it up for me?” He asked. I tried to be nice to the Grey Man since he lived in an apartment alone in a very rugged place. I grabbed my wheelchair and sat down on it. I wheeled to the kitchen which was not too far away. “Don’t be frightened to find out that it’s not milk,” he said. I wheeled up to the fridge and pulled it open. Inside was multiple baby bottles filled with the crimson liquid on the second shelf. I had guessed that it had been human. I picked up one of the many bottles and held it. I wheeled over to the microwave that was next to the refrigerator and pushed it open. I then stuck it in the inside, then shut it, and put it in for 2 minutes. The smell of the crimson liquid was sweet and I could almost taste it in my mouth as the smell went through both of my nostrils and I inhaled deeply to get the smell more and more.

The tea kettle started to whistle really loudly and the baby now cried even louder as a result. I grabbed an oven-mitten that sat next to the stove and put it on, grabbing the tea kettle from off of the stove and setting it on the counter. “Steven, could you possibly put the tea in the fine china cups for us?” I then got everything ready, the baby bottle was warmed up, the tea was ready and everything was fine. I poured us two cups of the tea and rested them on a china plate along with the baby bottle. I sat the plate on the coffee table in the middle of the couch and the chair. He grappled the baby bottle and fed it to the baby. Normal people would probably look at this in disgust but I find it to be just darling. “I remember when your father fed you in this way. Your step mother was the only one that fed the children by breast milk. Your real mother was always either in the hospital or at work,” he said, he told the truth. “Would you like to hold him?” he asked, “what’s his name?” I then proceeded to ask.

“His name is Tobiath,” he replied. He handed the infant to me and handed me the bottle to finish feeding him. The infant was warm and immediately upon watching him suckle on the rubber nipple I grew an attachment to him. “What do you do for a living?” I asked him, “I make wax figures for a living. I work a local traveling sideshow, I could pull out a portfolio of mine showcasing some of my work if you want me to,” he smiled. Tobiath tried to pull away the bottle with his tiny hands, he’s just precious, I thought to myself.

“What do you call yourself?” I asked the Grey Man, “Dave,” he simply replied. I decided to still call him the Grey Man because the name had fitted him. “You know I always loved the name Steven? I had even considered naming my own flesh and blood by that name because I had adored it so much. It’s a Greek name you know,” he said. Tobiath was starting to cry again, I picked him up and rested his head on my shoulder and padded his back to burp him.

“You seem to be a natural with children,” the Grey Man said. I smiled, The Grey Man pulled out a long black book from behind his chair. He opened it up to the first page and flashed the first page. In the picture there were two wax statues, Alice Cooper next to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. He got up from his chair and sat down next to me and showed me the whole book.

The whole book was filled with people and subjects he had created. “Isn’t it strange how when mannequins burn the melt slowly and disturbingly?” I asked him, I made him laugh a little bit. The Grey Man had a nice smile and an adorable laugh that fitted his young face. “What’s your name again?” I asked him again, “Dave Robert Cushing.” He took Tobiath from my arms and cradled him again in his arms. Tobiath was now beginning to grow sleepy, “Toby rarely likes strangers besides his mother and me. I guess he really likes you,” said the Grey Man smiling and giggling. “Where’s his mother?” I asked him.

“She divorced me and left me with Toby. She didn’t want anything to do with our child, I’m fine now. We never really knew each other to tell you the truth. She died not too much later.” He started to laugh as if her death was funny.

“Sad,” I said turning my head and staring at the clock hanging on the wall in front of me. “Steven, do you really kill people?” He asked me, I didn’t know how to answer that question so I just nodded slowly without looking at him. “Well, I do, too,” he said calmly while losing his smile.

He got up from his chair and put the baby away slowly to not wake him up. I stared at the clock that ticked and moved. When I saw it, it started to distort every time it ticked, it started to melt. Looking at the clock made my stomach turn and I couldn’t look away because it was hypnotizing me. The Grey Man came back with nothing in his hands and my looks turned back to him. “I’m the same kind of thing you are,” he said while sitting back down next to me.

I looked at him with a blank face, a face that was filled in a vacuous void. My face was and for that’s why I called it that very name. My mouth was starting to get dry and I was so queasy that I felt like I was going to throw up. I picked up the tea cup and sipped, the tea was cooling down now. “I’m looking to kill a man by the name of Dave Ramsey,” I told him, he shrugged. “Could I possibly help you?” He asked and my face lit up immediately. I nodded and smiled joyfully, I still hate my smile though.

“He’s a gamer isn’t he?” I nodded, still smiling. I grabbed my hat from the coffee table and put it on my head, “easy tiger. We need to find out where he is first,” he said. The Grey Man was right. He got up and pulled a laptop from behind the green chair. The laptop was a bright blue color.

“I found him!” The Grey Man yelled at the top of his lungs and taking it a little overboard. It had taken us over an hour to finally find the information we needed. My face lit up once again from being in the vacuous void for over an hour. “We’ll drive there with my car,” he said. I nodded and grabbed his hand that was typing nonsense on the computer (ironic isn’t it?).

We drove around Diced St. looking all around for the house, all I could think of was the message the woman had warned the two of us about. This whole street should have been called Rue d’Auseil but I don’t think it would have been worthy.

The street felt like it was abandoned like most of the streets in the town of Hollow. I sat in a foreign Cadillac owned by a strange man whom I believe is a new acquaintance. “There is one thing I want you to do for me, Steven,” he said while looking at the road and driving around. I nodded, not bothering to know if he was watching me or not.

The man was a stranger, a widower with straight grey hair with large silver eyes. He didn’t tell me much when we were at the house; the only thing I can get out of his thick mind is that he had killed his ex-wife who divorced him after having his child. “I want you to get the job done perfectly,” he said. The man was sick at heart, I don’t know if he was worse than I, though. I nodded again; he stopped the car at a jolting halt.

“Do you hear me?!” he yelled, I cringed, the stranger hadn’t talked to me at all like this before. “I want you to chop his fucking head off! Carve him up in little bits and bury him in the floorboards, shove him in a pot and bake him into a pie and feed it to a blind man!” He yelled. The more and more I heard him yell the more a lump in my throat grew larger and harder to handle and keep my tears from escaping my eyes.

He then started to laugh hysterically at nothing and started the car up again, “I could just see his mangled face and body, it all seems so nice to me Steven. I want you to do all of my dirty work if you succeed with this one,” he seemed so happy and joyous when he said this aloud. Never did he look up from the road in front of him, not even to look at the passenger seat or anything in the car. I sighed and he sighed as well, “I’m sorry, Steven.

That bloody part of me comes up much too often,” he said. He finally stopped the car when we drove across a very old house that was marked 616 and nothing else. From in the car I could smell a hideous smell that was emitting from the house, the smell of decaying bodies and mothballs. The smell was so horrible that from the yard I could see that there were many bird carcasses lying in the yellow grass.

There were dead trees, yellow grass, and an ivied house which looked abandoned. From the corner of my eye, I could see a woman’s figure form the top window. It was amazing that the neighbors didn’t call to the police for the complaints of the smell. I took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Now that I was out of the car, I could hear loud music emitting from the house in question. The Grey Man came with me as he got out of the front seat. He had a joyous smile upon his face like he just got back from meeting the love of his life, if he had one that is.

The music wasn’t loud, it sounded like it was emitting from an old record player. A chill ran down my back and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My hands started to shake very fast; I could barely even get the car door open. “Steven?” I heard the Grey Man ask for me, he was now looking directly at me. My mind was going off to far; all I could see now were the drawings I have made on the walls at home. There was no way I could possibly touch anything at all.

Suddenly, I felt a strand of saliva go down the corner of my lip and I started violently shaking. ‘Help,’ I tried to yell at him, I needed someone to help me escape the void. I then saw bloody corpses of women scattered on a polished floor and a man laughing. ‘Help’


‘Help me… someone’

I woke up back in the hospital with Mommy and the Grey Man looking at me. Mommy had a large patch on her eye and the Grey Man comforted her. “This was the first time this kind of thing ever happened, David. I’m scared, I don’t even know if I want to live with him anymore or even carry his child,” she whispered putting her head on his chest and started to cry. I sat up in the bed and yawned; it hurt when I tried to yawn. “It was all just stress, my dear; he needs to just have some time alone. Maybe write everything down on a piece of paper or maybe a canvas,” Mommy started to dry her tears with her black sleeve.

“It’s okay Mrs. Harrison,” he said. I could taste a warm bit of iron in my mouth, I had bitten my bottom lip, it was sore slightly. “I think we should give up, Steven,” he said to me. I nodded slowly, “what?” Mother asked. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Did I ever tell you two the story of the first time I killed someone?” He asked while the both of us shook our heads at the same time. “I was driving alongside the road and hit a man.

I looked everywhere to make sure nobody was watching me. I took a shovel from the back of the car and got out. Bashed his head in to make sure he was dead, did it as hard as I could. Got it all over my face, I kind of got something out of it, an adrenaline that rushed through my body. I started laugh hysterically. Little did I know, besides God watching me, there was a man by the side of the road who saw the whole act. He didn’t get scared or anything when he watched it, instead he was intrigued. ‘You seem to be pretty good’ he said, he finally came out of the shadows and came up to me and asked for a ride to the hospital. An incredibly tall man he was, strong he looked. ‘A deflowered virgin has borne my seed’ he told me. He definitely spoke strange.

I started the car up, bloodied shirt and face, and I definitely bloodied the car seat and steering wheel. On the way there he asked if I wanted to ‘become one of them’, he didn’t tell me what it meant at the time. So, instead of anything else, I agreed to the strange question. As a result, I became one of you. I had witnessed everything including the birth of you,” he said. “Your mother was beautiful and was a very nice woman to talk to. I remembered first holding you; you were a very fragile child.

In my works, I have talked to many disfigured people, but, you Steven. You were the most interesting,” the Grey Man told his story. “Michael was a huge cutie then,” said Mommy trying to cheer herself up and laughing. In funerals, people always loved to tell stories, but, because we didn’t have a funeral because of the incident, we made our own. “What exactly did Steven draw along the walls of the room?” Mommy asked, the Grey Man slightly struggled, “well, he drew… Um, he drew horrible things on the walls. I had forgotten completely what I had drawn along the walls of the hospital room. “Could you please explain?”

“He drew pictures of infants, spiders, naked bodies that look deceased, and dozens of dead flies in a spider’s web,” he said still trying to force himself to say the words. There are better things than wanting to hurt the woman who called herself ‘Nurse Rozetta’. I need to stop thinking of things such as this; there are many other things that are nicer to think of. I wonder what Anthony Sterling would think if I told him absolutely everything that I had thought that one day I had talked to the fly. I bet even he would think I were mad. I need a stronger medicine and more help.

I fell asleep immediately after Daddy brought me home. Everything in my room was cluttered, I had almost forgotten everything. Mommy had decided to lie at the Grey Man’s place for a couple of days. “I didn’t have enough time to clean it for you, Steven. I hope you don’t mind,” he said, kissing me, and wishing me good night and leaving the room. I fell asleep and had a horrible nightmare. I woke up trying to find Daddy for comfort. I called to him and ran to his room that was not too far away from mine. I lay in his bed next to him and started to cry. Daddy was drenched in blood and was cold and shivering.

I finally awoke in a foreign bed from the Insane Asylum. Staring up at me was a blonde boy with very short hair and a gentle smile. “Oh, I hope I haven’t startled you. My name is Grimm, what’s your name?” the boy asked. I smiled and dragged a finger across my scar. I then got up and ripped a piece of cloth from the bed sheet. All I could see was black and white now. ‘She’ll be coming, Steven,’ Silver Beetle warned. Nurse Rozetta then opened through the door and wondered what was going on. Grimm was petrified and stood in only one space.

I then took it and wrapped it around her neck as tightly as I possibly could, not even a little sound came from her, not even a whine or hiss of air coming from her throat. I had finally listened to the voices in my head; I didn’t care about the consequences. She was a sinner and this story is proof. If you are by chance reading this, please don’t think I’m crazy, because I am not. I am not crazy, Do you hear me? I am not.

To shoot Coca-Cola is a slang term meaning to snort cocaine.