Ashes of the Mind

Chapter 5: Desperate Measures

The next few days passed in a haze of paranoia and self-loathing. Ethan threw himself into his research, desperately searching for a way to reverse the effects of the memory extraction. He avoided Sarah and his other colleagues, afraid of what he might do if the Butcher took control again.

News reports of a brutal murder in the city had Ethan on edge. He knew, deep down, that he was responsible, even if he couldn't remember the details. The guilt ate at him, warring with the sick sense of satisfaction that the Butcher's presence brought.

On the fourth day after the "incident," as Ethan had taken to calling it in his mind, Sarah showed up at his apartment unannounced.

"Dr. Reeves? Are you in there?" Her voice, muffled by the door, was tinged with concern.

Ethan froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Part of him wanted to let her in, to confess everything and beg for help. But the Butcher's voice whispered warnings in his mind.

"Don't do it, doctor. She'll never understand. She'll turn us in."

Swallowing hard, Ethan opened the door a crack. "Sarah. What are you doing here?"

Her eyes widened as she took in his dishevelled appearance. "I've been worried about you. You haven't been answering your phone, and the lab... well, people are asking questions."

"I'm fine," Ethan lied, forcing a smile. "Just been busy with some personal research. Nothing to worry about."

Sarah didn't look convinced. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk about what happened during the experiment."

The Butcher's presence surged, a wave of violent intent that made Ethan's fingers twitch. He gripped the door frame tightly, fighting for control.

"Now's not a good time, Sarah. I'll... I'll come by the lab tomorrow, okay?"

Before she could protest, Ethan shut the door, leaning against it as he heard her reluctant footsteps retreat.

"Well done, doctor," the Butcher crooned. "Can't have anyone spoiling our fun, can we?"

Ethan slid to the floor, his head in his hands. "I can't keep doing this. I need to find a way to get you out of my head."

An idea began to form – desperate, dangerous, but possibly his only hope. If he could replicate the conditions of the original experiment, maybe he could reverse the process. Extract the Butcher's consciousness from his mind and trap it... somewhere else.

But he couldn't do it alone. He needed help, someone he could trust. And as much as he hated to admit it, there was only one person who might understand, who might be willing to take the risk.

With shaking hands, Ethan reached for his phone and dialed a number he'd sworn he'd never call again.

"Hello?" A gruff voice answered on the third ring.

Ethan took a deep breath. "Dr. Malcom? It's Ethan Reeves. I... I need your help. It's about the memory extraction project."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Dr. Malcom spoke again, his voice was low and serious.

"What have you done, Ethan?"

As Ethan began to explain, he felt the Butcher's presence stirring, angry and afraid. But for the first time since this nightmare began, Ethan felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way out of this hell he'd created.

But little did he know, the worst was yet to come.