"I can't believe how lucky you are."
As she laid in her lumpy hospital bed, patiently waiting for sleep to take hold, the girl thought back to her nurse's words, though she begged her mind to focus elsewhere.
"It's been a long time since we've had this part of the hospital open. I would kill for a chance to stay here," the kind eyed nurse's voice echoed in her mind. When she'd asked why, the woman had launched into a long and detailed explanation of how the hospital used to use the wing to treat the insane. It was led by a man named Dr. Henry Cotton, who had been considered a genius at the time. The nurse had seemed a bit too excited as she described what Dr. Cotton did to his patients. To the girl, the procedures made lobotomies seem like perfectly humane treatments.
She was about as far from a horror fan as a person could possibly get and cowered beneneath the scratchy sheets as the nurse continued to speak in her head.
"Dr. Cotton treated people with every mental health issue possible, and even tried to cure Crawford the Cannibal, you know, the guy that snapped and started eating people in the 20s?" The nurse had spoken so quickly that the girl had had no time to interrupt, though she had silently been begging for the woman to stop.
Creak.
The girl jumped in her bed as the wall made a sudden noise, causing a jolt of pain in her stomach. Though she had gotten her appendix removed hours ago, she was still in great pain. The walls groaned again, causing her to shiver. But surely the sounds were normal. Perhaps the tapping on the window was even from a tree outside and not a previous patient visiting from beyond.
"Dr. Cotton's experiments had a 45% mortality rate and those who survived had a lot of other issues to worry about."
The girl pulled the thickest blanket over her head to block out the creaks and taps, but could still hear them just as loud as they had been.
As she cowered underneath the sheets, she didn't witness her window slowly become frosted over with ice. What finally caused her to peer over the blankets was the creaking of the door as it slowly shut. The girl felt an icy terror seize her heart, but couldn't force herself to look away.
I must be dreaming, she told herself, though she still refused to blink. Her heartbeat sped up, even as she laughed at herself. This isn't real.
Then the hair on her arms suddenly stood up. It took her a moment to figure out why.
The woman's voice soft as she began to sing, like a gentle carress as one was falling asleep. But the operatic singing gradually grew louder until it made the room vibrate whenever a note was held. The girl quaked, pulling the covers back up to her chin.
It's just a dream, she repeated, though her resolve was crumbling. There was a sudden harsh cackling and the girl whimpered. Just a dream.
Though it began far away, the laughter closed in on her until it was all she could hear. The singing and laughter echoed around the constricting space and the girl pulled the covers over her head in an attempt to block it out. It worked for a moment as she was engulfed by blissful silence, then the sheets were pulled from her clenched hands and piled at the foot of her bed. She stared in shock for a moment, her stomach churning.
This isn't a dream, she finally realized in horror.
Heart racing, she leapt out of bed and raced towards the door, only to be pulled back with a scream. She was pushed back into the hospital bed and pinned down as she shrieked again. Nobody came to her rescue. Beginning to sob, the girl could only watch as the shadows around the room condensed to form opaque figures that began to creep closer to her. Her eyes darted from shape to shape, seeing similarities between each one. None had teeth, but nearly all had a bloody throat and stomach, as well as a dead expressio on their face.
"Dr. Cotton believed insanity was the result of untreated infections of the body, so he removed anything he believed was causing it. He always started with teeth, then tonsils and sinuses, and finally gall bladders, stomachs, and spleens."
The girl was hyperventilating as the former patients crept towards her silently. She screamed once more, though she knew no one would come help her. The figures surrounded her bed as she bawled, but they just stared, excitement lighting up their otherwise cold eyes.
"P-please," she begged, terror making it hard to speak.
The patients turned to look at the largest one of their group, who stared at the girl as if she were a meal. She wondered if maybe she was. He slowly turned to the others and nodded. The patients looked back at the girl once more and melted back into darkness.
She looked around the room disbelievingly. They let her go. Why? She didn't care. A small smile crossed her face and she forced her breathing to slow down. She was okay now. They left her alone. She was safe.
"My, my, it's been a long time since we've had visitors."
The girl jumped, panic coursing through her veins once again. She looked up and stared in horror at the opaque bald man looking out the frosted over window. He turned to her; his eyes were black pits that seemed to stretch on forever. The girl shook in her bed, unable to move.
"So, what brings you here?" Dr. Cotton asked, stepping forward towards her. "Depression? Schizophrenia? I can cure you of your problem."
The girl choked on her words and couldn't force anything out of her mouth.
"Now, now, where do we get started?" Dr. Cotton turned to a newly present woman in an old-fashioned nurse outfit. She looked towards the girl and smiled. "Nurse, please hand me my scalpel."
***Everything written about Dr. Henry Cotton was true. He was the medical director of the New Jersey State Hospital at Trenton from 1907 to 1930. To read more on Dr. Cotton, go to this webpage: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Cotton_(doctor)
