I would give the shrinks that much, they had done a proper job in creating a seamless environment for one to go mad in, to lose their minds much like one would lose a pencil in a crowded hall, dropped and discarded for more pressing events.

Surrounding me at all angles was the plush, disgusting innocence of gently padded white walls, their cloud-like appearance disguising where I was, although my infuriatingly clear mind seemed perfectly happy with reminding me every-so-often.

Where was I, exactly? The loony bin, the psychiatric ward, more specifically so St. Joan's Home for the Mentally Unstable.

Not that I was mentally unstable. I couldn't even remember what I had done to earn a place amongst these halls. All I knew was that I had a vague and uncomfortable feeling around the base of my throat that never left and that didn't exactly give me many clues.

I had been here for, what, 3 days? Perhaps four. Enough for me to miss my shower with an aching pain that astounded me. They hadn't let me shower, hadn't even allowed me to look at myself in a mirror or brush the untamed lengths of my bright red hair.

Speaking of aching pain, the straitjacket they had forced into put uncomfortable amount of pressure on my bladder and forced it into the size and shape of what felt like a jelly-bean on cheap low-class steroids. With a frown of concentration I managed to force myself upwards, although my un-used muscles screamed in protest at the action.

"Hey!"

No response, not that I expected the walls to sprout a mouth and talk back.

"I need to pee!"

After a few moments of squirming silence, a previously indistinguishable seam in the walls widened to introduce a gruff and heavyset man, his expression bringing to my mind images of angered pugs and warthogs.

After another silent moment he walked over to me and grasped me by the shoulders, hulking me upwards and giving me a newfound sense of vertigo. Who knew I was so tall?

It had been too long since I had stood on my own two, currently bare, feet, the sudden change in altitude leaving me mildly woozy. With one hesitant step forwards, I found myself moving at my own, easy pace, although without the freedom to swing my arms about frivolously I felt mildly restrained.

He walked me out of the door into an immaculate hallway, the air arid and tinged with antiseptics and hidden blood. A blood-curling scream sounded in a far-off corner of the building.

Why was I here again? I wasn't insane, I was almost certain of it. I wasn't frothing at the mouth or scrabbling at the walls, writing indistinct and vaguely satanic symbols. I was still me, still the independent young woman with a penchant for art.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Not that I would call it art, exactly. It was mostly scribbles with the occasional coloring and-

"Miss!"

I realized then that the guard was staring at me frustratedly, motioning to the door in front of my eyes. Specifically so, a door adorned with a triangular sign depicting a man in a cape, also known as the ladies room. The thought made me giggle vaguely as he unclasped the buckles holding my hands beneath my armpits. With a happy, almost animalistic sound I immediately stretched, cracking my knuckles and attempting to ignore the defensive position the guard had taken up.

Pushing open the door revealed a small room it was square and extremely barren, with only a toilet and an industrial sink to show its purpose. Finishing my business was quick and uneventful, but I lingered still, enjoying my few moments of mobility before the guard knocked thrice and threatened to enter.

I let out an over-dramatic sigh and opened the door with an exaggerated flourish that may have been attractive when I had been back in my home, but now likely it had a rather unsettling effect.

With an unamused grunt he forcefully rebuckled me and began leading me towards a different stretch of hallway, one that struck a familiar chord somewhere in my mind.

"Am I going to see Dr. Paquette?"
"Yes."

I felt my eyebrows crease together, my mind tripping along at the prospect of another visit to the infernal doctor. It wasn't that he was rude, no, in fact quite the opposite. With a jubilant head of curly brown hair and plump cheeks, the constant upbeat attitude and pleased mannerisms split me in between telling him all of my secrets and punching him directly in the jaw.

Of course, in my current restrained condition, our daily meetings were mostly spent in silence, with him staring expectantly at me, a light smile teasing the edges of his lips up with his vaguely small hands folded neatly across the top of his desk.

The guard wasted no time in pleasantries when we reached our destination, instead opening the door quickly and startling me from my reverie by pushing me in the room roughly.

Rather rude of him, of course, but to be expected when you're considered to be a mental patient. I really wasn't-

"Samara, hello! Why don't you take a seat?"

The eternally happy voice of the doctor rang out, my eyes merely watching as he gestured to the single, metallic chair that sat directly in front of his own desk. I sent a blatant glare to the guard behind me before stepping forth and sliding into the chair, shivering the unyielding metal surface extracted the warmth from my skin as it made contact with the metal.

One minute passed, then another, the incessant ticking of the clock interfering with my previously calm demeanour and forcing an almost angry twitch to make an appearance. If my hands had been free, I would no doubt be impatiently clicking my nails against the laminated surface of his desk. Instead I settled for steadily tapping my foot against the floor, throwing an expectant look towards the doctor.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about, doc?"
"I was leaning towards showing you something, actually."
"And that would be?"

Scraping his chair backwards and motioning for me to do the same he led me to a corner of the room and positioned me to face a mirror.

The first mirror I had seen in approximately 3-4 days.

The first thing that caught my attention was the bruised and angry looking ring around the base of my neck, a medley of colors ranging from deep purple to yellow. My lips were swollen and dry from dehydration, my hair standing up from my head in a fashion resembling a rat's nest, mainly because it hadn't been brushed ever since I was placed in the ward. My eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded, dark circles forming under the bags of my eyes.

What a looker.

"Hey doc, mind telling me why I look like I was choked by an over-sized cheerio?"

Normally he would've snickered at the quip, but instead he remained stone-faced, an almost stern expression crossing over his face.

"You don't remember?"
"No, if I did I wouldn't be asking you, dumbass."

The creases in his brow grew and I smiled sheepishly.

"I want you to think long and hard, Samara"
"I'm getting reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeal tired of your bullshit, doc."
"You want to know? Fine."

His easy manner was completely gone now as he walked over to his desk. Opened a drawer and threw a huge file onto the table top. It was filled with papers, the only thing keeping it held together being an elastic restraint.

"Go ahead, read all you want."

Tentatively I complied, schlepping towards the desk. I shot him a dirty look and raised my eyebrow.

"How am I supposed to read, let alone touch the file if my hands are tied, didn't think of that, did you?"

He let out a low laugh, walking towards me and gently unbuckling my restraints. I wasted no time in stretching now, instead practically diving towards the fat file. Picking it up and ripping the elastic directly off, I opened the file quickly and immediately froze by looking at the first page. I could practically feel the colour drain from my face.

A picture of me was the first notable image, stretched out upon a hospital gurney, almost as pale as the white sheets that covered my body. Through the sheets soaked an exaggerated amount of blood. I barely managed to tear my eyes away as bile rose in my throat, bringing with it an acrid taste that made me slam the file shut, falling onto the ground to empty the contents of my stomach. A feeling of nausea washed over me like a wave.

"You wanted to know."
"What happened to me?"
"I'm not allowed to fully disclose the events."
"What HAPPENED to me?!"

I felt a new type of rage fill the base of my stomach, forcing me upwards and pulling me towards the door. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I wanted to run as fast as my legs carried me away from this place. A voice in the back of my head was now present, urging me to make a break for it, to take the chance, to run.

I listened.

With a quick motion I rose off the floor and vaulted directly over the desk, the new pressure bringing an awareness of a sharp pain that found its home in my wrists. Without pause for breath I pushed open the doors, sending a silent thank-you to my track and field coach as I realised that whilst I was not the fastest, I was fast enough. I could envision their hands centimeters behind me, clutching at open air. Shouts and grunts followed as I darted through the yard of the 'home'. I ran a good distance only to be stopped by a tall wire fence. I couldn't stop now.

With quick feet I climbed over, silently thankful for the absence of shoes as it allowed me to climb it with relative ease, and although blisters started to form on my hands I had to keep climbing. I finally made it to the top and I could see the angry men who were chasing after me. One of them waved a flashlight in my general direction, the bright beam landing on me and startling me off the top of the fence. I tumbled over and fell a good 12 feet, landing me onto the opposite side of the fence.

My vision was overtaken by a bright white, a crippling sort of pain overtaking my body and wrenching a cry of pain from the base of my throat that brought with it a round of hacking coughs. Blindly I stumbled upwards, groping at the fence and listened for the sounds of the approaching search party. Judging by the volume, they were closer then I thought.

Turning around now, I was presented with the choice to stand here and accept my fate or make a mad dash towards an unknown destination.

I started running.

It was a surprisingly familiar rhythm despite the fact that my lungs were barely able to drag air into themselves, or that my legs were beginning to shake, or that the ground was suddenly hurtling towards me at high speeds and-

My body was flooded with pain once more. My palms had half of the skin scraped off of them, hanging off of the pads of my hands in gruesome chunks. The pain was unbearable, my vision was blurred with tears now. It hurt so much. I wanted to curl up into a ball and give up. Nothing good had come out of this dumb idea of mine, I'm probably going to die out here on the unforgiving ground.

It hit me then.

I was going to die.

A blatant refusal filled my mind as I forced myself back upwards, ignoring the sudden headache that pounded on the inner walls of my temples. My hand raised feebly in an attempt to swat away a fly that buzzed near my ears. I forced my battered knees to bend and stretch, moving forward and listening to the increasingly loud noises of the crowd that followed me.

So this is how I'm going to die, covered in flies and then decaying away slowly. It's not a bad way to go, really. Better than rotting away in the loony bin.

A slow chuckle escaped through my cracked lips and I fell one final time, my ears filled with the sound of a thousand flies covering my body. I had lost all sense of my body, the pain being replaced with an odd pin-and-needles sensation, similar to what when you feel when your foot goes asleep. My vision faded to black.

…

…

"Wake up, little one."

"Wake up..."

"Daddy?"

I opened my eyes slowly, expecting to see the pale green walls of my home with the smiling face of my father hovering over me. Instead I was faced with a bone-chilling sense of wrong, the same feeling a child has when they look underneath their bed or leaves one leg dangling outside of their covers at night.

Is this what death feels like? Am I already dead?

Wrenching myself upwards so that I rested upon my elbows, I looked around myself. Nothing of note, just the same forest I fell asleep in.

"I-is anyone there?"

Silence greeted me as I examined the length of my arms for damage. Luckily, the long sleeves of the jacket had protected them from any extensive damage other then the palms of my hands. Dried blood along with fresh thin scabs were forming on my cuts and small scrapes. It still hurt to move any of my limbs.

The same buzzing noise started to fill my head as I became more aware of my surroundings. The noise in my ears subsided and then flared suddenly, my head swivelling to search for the source of the noise.

There wasn't one.

Just a crippling headache to accompany me amongst the gently swaying trees. Did I really manage to escape my pursuers? The thought seemed oddly fantastical, considering I had passed out, splayed across a path in the middle of a forest. One of them surely would have found me, one of them would have-

"You underestimate my powers."

I took the opportunity to scream as loudly as my ravaged lungs would allow, scrambling upwards and almost toppling over onto a nearby fallen tree. Using the rough bark as leverage I managed to stand and balance myself almost normally, searching throughout the flood of trees for the source of the-

"Looking for me?"

I felt my sanity drift away on the subtle breeze, followed closely by my rationality. There was a voice, speaking to me, and I knew that I truly was insane. My vision filled with tears, blurring the surroundings into a palette of greys and browns. Without thought I dropped to the ground once more, what remained of my hands flying up to cover my eyes and muffle the soft whimpers that managed to escape through my lips. Nothing made sense at all, my head hurt, I can't move an inch without feeling pain and this weird voice kept flooding my head, whispering sweet nothings into my ears.

"There is no reason to be afraid of the dark, little one. One would do better to fear the monsters that walk amongst you."

"Monsters?"

"You may think I am a monster, but I am nothing compared to the monster that lives within each and every one of you filthy beings."

"You speak as if you are not human."

"Open your eyes, lost one, and you shall understand why that is."

With a slow motion I forced my eyes to open, forced them to look upon the figure that graced the open space in front of me. A long, restless figure of a man stood in front of me, like stilled motion, At first my vision was blurry but after blinking a while it cleared up and I saw an extremely tall man dressed in a black American cut styled suit with a dark red tie. I looked up and squinted my eyes to see his facial features...had my eyesight gone that bad? All I saw was the general shape of a face, a strong chin and high-cheekbones, but other then that there was nothing.

It brought back memories of building snowmen with papa in the backyard, twisting those memories into fear.

Was I being stalked by a psychotic snowman?

Was I high on some high-end hallucinogen?

My mind was running at 100 miles a minutes and I could do nothing but stare blankly at the figure in front on me, mindlessly clutching my hands into tight fists and sending an unwanted shock of pain through my body.

"Is this some kind of a sick joke?"

In response the creature offered a long-fingered hand, which I took after a moment's hesitation. It was then that I realised just how disproportionate this creature was, how tall and thin he stood. He towered almost a meter above my own ample height, yet he was half of my width, creating an effect that was over-all-

"Unsettling?"

Was the creature reading my mind? There was no doubt that it was a creature, an anomaly, just not right. I stumbled backwards and accidently hit into a tree, the man took a step forward and stood there.

"I'm not going to hurt you, brave one."

"What makes you think I believe that?"

"I easily could have ripped your internal organs out by now and strewn them across the trees for decorations. Perhaps it is best if you trust in me."

"Well that's reassuring, Thank you for not murdering me in cold blood. Would you like a cookie?"

A stressful silence wove a shiver into my bones, reminding me that perhaps it was not the best idea to mock the murderous, blood-thirsty creature from hell.

"You still believe in the concept of hell, little one? Have you not learnt that this planet of yours is the worst purgatory imaginable?"

Another silence, this one leaving me gaping. I scrambled for a new topic.

"Okay then, so tell me exactly why I'm at your mercy."

He walked towards me then, extending his elongated arm towards me and rolling up the sleeve of my jacket with tapered fingers. Underneath the innocent white fabric laid a lattice of angry looking slits, many of them appearing to be self-inflicted. If it were humanly possible to shy away from one's own arm, I did so, gaping at the angry red flesh and attempting to understand why, or how, they had been distributed.

"You do not remember your promise?"

"What promise are we talking about here?"

'Look closer, my sweet. Do you not see my likeness carved into your very flesh?"

"Yes, but what does this have to do with a promise?"

"You promised to be mine."

"Define mine?"

"Little one, so small and innocent. Even an immortal creature needs companionship."

"And you chose me?"

"You and I, we are much the same, lost as we are in this world."

"I wasn't lost. I was-" I grasped momentarily for an adequate word. "Misunderstood."

"You are not the only misunderstood creature."

"And if I choose to deny your gracious offer?"

The tentacles adorning his back flared angrily in response.

"Then we are at an impasse, to which I will give you an ultimatum. Either you serve me or you...die."

"That's rather uneventful."

"You misunderstand."

"What about those who followed me here?"

"Dead. All of them."

One of the tentacles adorning his back swept forward, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my eyes with an almost tender motion that sent shivers of fear rocking down my spine. I could feel the hairs on my neck raising up in response. My legs felt heavy.

"Have you reached a decision, little one?"

"I-I-I'll do i-it".

"Good girl.'

"Just one question. What can I call you?"

"You may call me by my most common name."

Slender.

I woke with a start. It was a frantic awakening, accompanied by a horrified gasp on my behalf and an almost choking sob. The dream I had just had was terrifying on all parts, bringing an outburst of tears on my behalf. I was not scared, I was upset, angered that I had to part with the beautiful creation of my dreams.

I had wanted him to be real with a passion that confused me, astounded me, and saddened me. Squeezing my eyes shut and forcing any lingering tears to make their way down the curves of my cheeks allowed to me see clearly for the first time.

Contrasting against the simple, padded white walls of my cell were 2 words that changed my entire outlook on life. They faded slowly into the fabric, bleeding away as if they never existed, but they were ingrained into my mind, unto the very fabric of my being.

Always Watching.

The words echoed through my head. I didn't want him to watch me in my misery. I wanted to get out. Ever so softly, I dipped my chin towards the ground, withholding the tears that once more threatened to overflow.

"Please. Please. Stop watching and get me out of this hellhole."

A small plea. Something so simple. Freedom.

The lights flickered off.

The door flung open.

Sirens began wailing frantically.

I heard screaming.

The sensation of being lifted from the ground overtook me, bringing with it a sense of height.

"Close your eyes, I do not wish for you to see this."

I obeyed, closing my eyes just as a sickening squelch sounded out, followed by a throaty gurgle.

I felt a warm liquid on my face, a metallic scent filling my nostrils and forcing bile to rise in my throat.

It was blood, velvet and warm against my skin. I shifted, twisting and pressing my face into the folds of his jacket, breathing in the heavy scent of decay and forestry, trying to ignore the pained screams that sounded out.

"This death is invariably better than the ones that awaited them."

"And the doctor?"

"Cowering in his office like the vermin he is. I will spare him."

I didn't say a word and just closed my eyes tighter, listening as the screams silenced, intensifying the scent of blood that lingered in the arid air. Nausea was flooding in.

I was suddenly placed upon the unyielding floor, the buckles of my straitjacket being undone by nimble fingers. He lifted me once more, placing me on the floor and crouching so that his featureless face was level with mine.

"Run."

My legs froze. My mind yelled at them, screamed at them to move. I was rooted, stuck to the spot observing him.

"Are you not going to run, little one?"

I opened my mouth to say something but it was glued shut. My legs felt heavy and weighed down.

"Yes. I am going to run."

"Go on then."

I remained rooted to the spot.

"Cover your eyes then."

That I was able to do, bringing my hands up to my eyes and covering them, enveloping me in a familiar darkness. I felt his hands reach around me, cold yet strangely familiar, pressing me gently into the folds of his jacket much like one would hold a small child.

"Sleep now, child."

The words drifted gently towards me amidst the increasingly loud approach of police sirens, the sound of clicking guns and skidding cars mixing with the scent of burnt rubber and cheap aftershave.

The sound of gunfire sounded out, quick short bursts that were immediately drowned out by the pained screams of the unfortunate. And just like that, it was over, the short-lived lives of the officers cut short by the hand of the creature that cradled me so gently. The moment brought with it the realization that he could just as easily end mine. I was thankful.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Samara."

I tried to restrain my shivers.

"Do you fear me because I am not human?"

"It's not you that I fear as much as the idea of you."

"My sweet, I would never harm you. I'm sorry that I'm not a mortal like you."

"You're a monster by human standards."

"Your accusations offend me. I am as much a monster to you as you are to me."

"I never said you were a monster to me."

His only response was to gently tighten his grip around me.

"I'm sorry"

"Just make sure you do not open your eyes."

"Why?"

"There are many dead bodies here. I do not want you to see them."

"Oh."

I did as he said and closed my eyes tight and burrowed my face in the crook of his chest, inhaling in deeply the scent of trees and earth. I had never felt so safe in my life, despite his alien grip upon me and the faint metallic taste still clinging to my tongue. And after what felt like an eternity, my eyelids drifted shut in sleep's embrace.

"Sleep, little one."