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St. Mercer Hospital
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The warm sensation of the bright lights that lit up the fields of his high school surprised Cyrus. He was standing at the fifteen yard-line. He saw it happening in slow-motion. A juke move to get to the outside, Cyrus watched as number twenty-one avoided a tackle, before eyeing the two defenders bearing down on him. A spin move back inside, the running back avoided the duo before cutting back up-field. He was at the five-yard line now as the guardian angel of the defense squared him up. The safety was solidly built, yet Cyrus somehow knew he had a habit of being baited into mistakes by fake jukes and cuts. The running back faked a cut outside, then faked another one inside, before planting his foot and cut outside. The safety had bit, and the running back appeared to have an easy touchdown ahead of him.
*snap*
Cyrus watched as the ankle gave out. The foot went parallel with the ground while the leg fell downward. The sensation of pain radiated from his own ankle as he watched as the running back dropped the ball on his way down, with it soon to be recovered by the defense. Cyrus shifted his eyes to the scoreboard, it told him that the home team was down thirty-five to twenty-eight. That score seemed familiar.
Then it hit him, and he sighed and said a soft "no" as to what was to come.
Cyrus quickly turned his attention to the sideline as he spotted his father. He had a look of excitement slowly turning to disappointment on his face as Cyrus watched on. No remorse, no sadness. His father slowly shook his head from one side to the other. Everything started to blur until he was left alone in the darkness. Slowly, another scene faded into existence. He was back at his parents' home, and in front of him he watched as his dad and himself were arguing, but things seemed different. His brother was on the couch, still in his walking boot. The duo argued for what seemed like forever before his father stormed out of the room, and Cyrus watched as this alternate version of himself sat down next to his brother. “D
on’t worry, I won’t let dad do to you what he did to me,” Cyrus said. Cyrus teared up a little bit as he watched the scene slowly fade back to black, and he was once again left alone in the darkness. In this dream he was alone, much alike his brother he left.
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“
Wake up”
Cyrus’s eyes flew open on command and he immediately regretted it. The bright light of the room assaulted his hungover eyes, causing what was already a throbbing headache to grow exponentially worse. Cyrus closed his eyes as fast as he could while he placed his hand on the side of his head. Slowly, he opened his eyes just enough to see without letting too much light in. On the far side of the room he noticed a large poster, reminding us to wash our hands to help curb the spread of viruses. Turning his focus downward, he saw that he was on a gurney and attached to an IV drip. “
I’m at the hospital,” he thought, “
why am I he-” he paused the thought, thinking back to the night before, “
oh yeah,” he muttered under his breath as he remembered walking down the stairs before something overloaded his thoughts, forcing him to collapse. Didn't help that he was drinking and already off balance, he supposed. Someone in his building must have called the paramedics. "Need to quit that habit," Cyrus whispered to himself. Ever since his brother had re-injured his Achilles tendon, he had started to search for answers at the bottom of a bottle. It didn't help that his mental health started to deteriorate as well around that time as well. Cyrus blinked once, twice, and once, once more as he allowed himself to get ready for the shock of the lights once more.
The sound of a women screaming forced his eyes open too quickly once again, and he groaned as they closed them; feeling the pounding in his head grow once more. “
Someone is having a bad day at the hospital,” Cyrus thought as he relaxed on the bed. He paused there, mulling the thought of falling back asleep when he remembered. “
It’s time to wake up”, Cyrus said aloud, “
the Glutton has foun-,” Cyrus paused as he thought, “
what’s a Glutton,” he asked to no-one in particular. He then remembered what proceeded the voice. “
What a strange dream,” Cyrus joked as he placed his hand over his eyes; allowing just a little bit of light in while opening his eyes up.
Outside his room, the sounds of a growing confrontation continued. Cyrus was curious. Then the sounds of people searching for others filtered in over-top, and soon thereafter the sounds of conversation became clear. “
...strange dreams...walking into a trap...clothes”. He removed his hand from over his eyes and looked out the room’s window to see other patients, in their gowns, walking towards the commotion. Meanwhile, the thud in the back of his head grew steadily as he watched and listened. It felt like it wanted him to follow the sound. It told him to follow the people he saw. But why? He slowly came to the realization that something was wrong. All he could hear were the patients, he heard no nurses at the station and it did not sound like a hospital; he knows all too well what a hospital sounded like. Leaning up, he placed his left foot on the floor. The coldness of the tile was openly welcomed as Cyrus realized he was really warm. His eyes darted downward and noticed that he was wearing a gown as well. Though the gown was out of focus for some reason, “
my glasses,” he thought, “
where are my glasses,” he continued as he shifted his focus and looked towards the table next to him; spotting his glasses in the process. Reaching out, he grabbed them and brought them up to his face and slid them on; finishing with just his pointer finger pushing from the bridge.
Cyrus arose off the gurney as his free hand removed the IV line, letting the cord hang off to the side. The sound of the confrontation grew even louder and now sounded like a battle had only grown louder in the meanwhile, and that thud at the back of his head grew. With a wobbly first step, Cyrus moved towards the door. He poked his head out and first looked down the hallway, before he looked towards the commotion. Not a single soul in sight. “
Strange,” he thought to himself as he moved into the hallway and started moving towards the sounds. As he drew close, the sounds seemed to die down a little bit before disappearing completely; instead being replaced by voices. It sounded like a group was arguing. “
Probably the two sides arguing to the guards.” Cyrus joked.
As he turned another corner, and found himself entering the lobby, he saw a group of young adults, all in their gowns. “
I don’t...I don’t” said one of the females before she averted her gaze. "
Listen here, bitch," another lady shouted, "
I want you to fucking tell me what happened to Claire. Right. Now." Cyrus watched and was quickly taken aback by what appeared to be blue sparks, as well as a glowing sigil that appeared on her hand. Cyrus looked at his own hands, noticing the two sigils that only he could see, before he turned his attention back to the group. A man, turned his attention towards the girl who demanded answers, "
Zoey, calm down," he said.
Before anyone else spoke, Cyrus caught sight of what caused the commotion. There lay a bloodied nurse off to the side of the lobby, she had a smile on her face and scissors in her neck. The pool of blood underneath answered any questions he had as to the possibility of potentially saving her. His mouth slightly agape now, his head slowly turned and caught sight of a large man. His chest bore three claw marks and was ripped open. His eyes squinted, noticing that the man's own hand was inside his chest. The gap between the lips on Cyrus grew further apart. He turned his attention towards the group. From what he could tell, none of them seemed surprised by the scene before them.
"
What hap- how did- who are-" Cyrus asked as he pointed between the nurse and the brute, a look of pure shock and horror on his face. His hands shot up, bent at the elbow, "
are they-" he paused as his eyes closed. He placed his hands on his forehead as he fought an urge to vomit; accidentally crossing the two sigils, left hand over right. He felt the sudden rush as his two shades emerged from his body. "
Not right now," he groaned under his breath, "
don't go crazy right now," he finished as he, as well as his shades who were flickering in and out of view, all opened their eyes. With a deep breath, Cyrus composed himself as his eyes drifted over the strangers ahead of him.
"What going on," Cyrus asked with some fear in his voice as his eyes once again darted to the deceased figures before settling on the one named Zoey, who had another woman pressed on the wall.
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