• The first thing noticed when he woke up was how dark the room was. Then he had the sinking feeling that something was not right. Then bed was too hard, the pillow too high, he had the strange feeling that he was wrapped up, and he couldn’t feel his left arm, in fact his entire upper body felt kind of numb. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and stared down at the said limb. He winced. It was wrecked, someone had taken the liberty of wrapping it up professionally in bandages, but blood still soaked through. His face hurts, but even his right hand couldn’t reach high enough to touch it and unearth the problem, his torso was scratched, but amazingly enough, his lower body escaped any injuries he noted as he lowered himself off the foreign bed.

    He couldn’t remember how those injuries got there. All he could remember was a huge chunk of metal coming straight at him before total darkness took over. Bizarrely enough, he couldn’t even recall his own name, where he was, or how he got there. They had a word for this… Am…Amnesia?

    He studied his room out of one eye; the only light source was the rays of the full moon pouring into the room through an open window revealing white walls, a white dresser, an I.V. stand and a foreboding white door half hidden in the shadow. For a moment he thought there was a massive stain that looked like rust on one of the walls, but when he blinked, it was gone, it must be the darkness and the monotonous room, playing tricks on his eyes.

    Outside in the hallway, it was even darker because of the lack of a window, and there was a metallic-tang in the air. But a dim light in the distance bobbed up and down, a candle, maybe? He decided to head that way, surely there would be people who can answer his questions there.

    With his left arm hanging limply by his side, he trod on. The long murky hallway seemed to stretch and curve sinisterly. When he got close enough he saw a group of people in gowns with various injuries, and heard bits and pieces of their conversation.
    “…darn blackout…”
    “…being release next week!”
    “…did you hear?”
    “…what do you mean...fugative?”
    "...escaped?"
    He heard more words that he should have known, but their meanings escaped him, and when he tried to remember, or at least store them away in his memory bank, they swam away from his head like eels.
    “Hey, what’s that?”
    Someone has noticed his silhouette.
    “Um… I was wondering if you could tell me where this place is...” He twist his face, his voice came out scratchy and hollow from disuse.

    The old woman welding the candle squinted and held the source of light closer, so she could get a good look at him.


    She saw something that made her scream and abandon the candle, fleeing in panic along with the rest of the gathering, some limping along in panic and haste.

    He whirled around, but saw nothing that was threatening; the hall way was still sinister and even colder. Shuddering, he decided that he should take the candle and leave. A chill crept up his spine. Something was not right.

    He stopped in his tracks and glanced around. There was a big framed door right up a head that seemed more important than the rest of the door he passed. The words on the label above it he couldn’t read, he recognised the letters but when he tried to pair them up to a meaning, his head drew a blank.

    He pushed it open with his arm while balancing a swiftly diminishing candle.

    The first thing he saw was moonlight; it filled the room from a huge window in the corner, he couldn’t see much else though, a ubiquitous fog draped over the distant like a blanket, obscuring his vision.

    This room must be for a very important person, all the furniture was made in fine lacquered wood and well decorated. He thought about leaving, but somehow he was drawn to a finely adorned door on the far side of the window. He found himself walking towards it, he might have lost all his memory in his mind, by his body still remembers, as if trying desperately to tell him something, and before he knew it the doors were open, his hands resting on the handles.

    It was a closet. Empty hangers lay to the side, his subconscious registered this but he hardly saw that, his eye was glued to the hideous monster before him. His cry strangled in his throat and came out as a gargle in panic. This monster had misshapen eyes, one wide open and as wrinkled as prunes, pus and blood dripped down the side of its face. Blood, it was everywhere! It was stained in the twisted arms, down the grotesque, deformed torso.

    The worst thing was, it just stood there and stared right back at him, mouth open, and arms held up, as if mocking him.

    Crimson stained his vision. For a moment old instincts kicked in, he raised his fist, like he had done many, many times before, his eyes glinting yellow from murderous hatred born out of the many, many years of suffering.

    His memory flooded him. He saw himself, a convict who had escaped from the death row, he was running, and running, everything passed him in his blind frenzy; he was so close from freedom! But there were the lights, and the horn, the lights came so near so fast! And before he knew it, a great force slammed against him. Sharp agony jolted through his body, worse than what he ever felt before, but it was only a second, for soon, there was only darkness for company.

    So that’s how I got here.

    He laughed maniacally at the ogre before him. Now he was superior. He thought in a mad rush of adrenaline. Now he had a name! And he was going to smash this thing in front of him like he did to many, many people before who dared to mock him.

    He brought his fist down, hard like only he could. He was going to run from this place and do what he was born for, destruction, power, and he didn’t care who he had to step over to get that. His first victim would be this, this thing, in front of him.

    The thing also had its fist raised. A cold chill of realization ran through him. But he couldn’t stop the momentum of his fist.

    His hands spider webbed the mirror, and his own reflection.