Batter

The Bringer of Fear

White, soft shoes, countless pairs, rushing by puce-colored walls.

The door was open. The television was..on? On.

Frighteningly still white-clad form-

"...I-I keep-trying to remember what we...didn't do. What went wrong so fast."

Wet, bare feet slapping against white linoleum.

Whirring, spinning, red alarms.

Glints of metal, jagged bent pipe-

"Why we weren't able to keep it under control. Isolated."

What is it about the unknown that so frightens people?

"...keep...Him under control..."

And yet-why do we constantly frighten one another. Why does a parent tell stories to their young children of a boogeyman under the bed, of the monster in the closet-of the thing in the lake that pulls children under the water to eat them...in hopes that it will keep their child away from bodies of water.

A parent might do so for protection. A friend, a colleague, sister, brother, lover-they might for fun. We scare one another, and ourselves, for cheap thrills.

That fear has been instilled in us since we were so very young. Avoid the darker corners. Keep a light in the hallway. Make sure the closet door is all the way closed. Leap into bed, so as not to expose one's ankles to the dark underneath for too long...something might reach out from there, and drag you down.

We all still do it.

You do. Admit it.

Walk quickly past a darkened room. Stare warily upwards, because you -swear- you just heard something. Avoid windows at night, anything could be staring in at you. Check over your shoulder...something could be there...lingering in the shadows...

You're taught to fear. From your first moment into life, screaming to high heaven, you're taught to be afraid. Not just of the intangible, but of things. Of people. Yourself.

Have your instincts ever frightened you. Have you ever stepped back from your body, and shiver at what you just thought of saying. Doing.

Some people aren't quite as lucky to experience such an enlightening experience. Some people don't understand what it is to be afraid.

And those people, children, are the movement in the dark. The slit eyes from under the bed, the crooked dirty claws curled around the closet door, the itch on the back of your neck when you know something is watching...

"I-I was trying to get to one of our panic buttons, th-they send out signals to the police station, the fire station, the...there was a wave of people, coming towards me. In the east wing, second floor. I didn't-know what they were running from. They were..."

Screaming, shoving, pushing, running- a white-clad woman falls, in the midst of pandemonium, cowering, covering her head, crying out at the barrage of legs.

"She was being trampled...I stopped to-to get her up, I was trying to calm the rush-"

The bodies trickle out, and both nurse and doctor are able to rise to their feet.

"..and...I saw him.."

A light, ear-biting scraping-hunched shoulders, steady, strong steps-scarred, bare-he drags a broken stool leg in one hand, clutching a scalpel in another. Bodies litter the hall behind him. Twitching. Writhing vainly. Piles of flesh. Ignored.

"...I...I thought I was going to die..."

Man and woman turn to run-he swings-CRACK-and she tumbles to the ground, pulling him with her, back bloodied. Another swing, and her leg is unusable. The doctor scrambles backwards.