Mind's Echo

Alex

Alex glared at Quincy and scoffed quietly with a slight shake of the head, "Hmph. 'Professionalism...' Like I can't be professional or she can't be safe with me? What does he know?"

No one seemed to hear his mumbled tirade. With another frustrated shake of his head, he turned away from glaring at Quincy's retreating form to join Shelly and Mark in exploring. As he was pivoting, Alex at last caught his first glimpse of the vintage photograph that Eva and Shelly had at first seemed a little too dramatic over. Now he found his own eyes widening in fear at the sight of the doctor performing the lobotomy in the picture. 

Alex's blood instantly felt glaciated by the image, inducing a shiver that ran the entirety of his spine and prompting the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand at full attention. It was not the appalling surgical procedure being performed on the prone patient in the picture that moved Alex to such an unnerved state but the inexplicable emotion of familiarity he was awash with for certain individuals in the photo, especially the doctor himself. 

He squinted his eyes and leaned in closer for a better look. No way ... It was indeed quite bizarre. The doctor in the picture seemed to look exactly like Alex. Or at least he did for a moment before morphing into someone else altogether. After another shake of his head and squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he took a second glance at the picture. This time, no matter how long he looked, the doctor remained older, bald, and bespectacled. 

What the hell is going on here, exactly!? Who were those people in the photograph? What was their story? Why did they all seem so familiar? Alex pondered deeply to himself. And even more unsettling was the question as to why had Shelly, Eva, Mark, Quincy, and myself had been drawn to this antediluvian asylum in the first place? It couldn't be merely coincidental or ironic timing ... could it!? What enigmatic significance did it truly hold for all of us within the abandoned walls of mental decay? 

Alex was so lost in thought that he barely heard the eager shout of Mark telling them it was time to begin the hunt. Then, as if awakened from a dream, Alex felt the gentle touch of a soft hand upon his arm. He looked around to see who had touched him, bringing him out of his morbid reverie. It was Shelly, her bottomless eyes gazing at him with concern. 

"Is everything okay, sweetie?" Shelly asked gently. 

He gave her a once over, almost as if discerning the reality of her, then glanced one last time at the photograph. 

"Uhhh ... Yeah, I think so," he answered her, his voice sounding miles away. "It's just that photograph ..."

Out of the fog, Mark's words finally became clearer, booming in the background, "Come on, guys! Let's get this creep-fest started, shall we?"

Shelly looked back at Mark, offering a pretty smile and a nod of consent. Then she glanced back at the photograph that had so deeply vexed Alex. After the briefest of hesitations, she shot him a pretty smile as well. She gave a tiny tug on his arm, coaxing him to go with her, to join Mark on an exploration of the asylum, and possibly on a mission to discover the truth as to why they were all there in the first place. Not wanting to appear without professionalism, or unworthy of her time and attention, Alex squared his shoulders, pushed the strange photograph to the back of his mind, and took a step forward, then another and another. He tried to ignore that it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.