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THE END
Dec 17, 2018 0:07:34 GMT -8
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Dec 17, 2018 0:07:34 GMT -8
The hours slipped by in a blur of endless questioning and examination. You were all sent to the hospital to be tested for this and that, to wait around in hospital gowns on uncomfortable cots. Then you were alone, the beeping of your heart monitor and the murmuring outside your room. What flashed through your mind? Who did you hope would come visit you? You weren't allowed to leave yet, and maybe your guests were waiting anxiously to see you.
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THE END
Dec 17, 2018 0:12:40 GMT -8
Post by Thy Dungyeon Maestyr on Dec 17, 2018 0:12:40 GMT -8
I'd hope no one I cared about came to see me, afraid I still had some kind of Satan germs on me that would come off on them. I did wonder about God and Jesus, and why they never say anything, while Satan has a big ol' time on our asses. Humanity one collective Job. Even so, I kept hoping Jesus would show up and either pat me on the head or give me a really good excuse.
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THE END
Dec 17, 2018 0:34:08 GMT -8
Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Dec 17, 2018 0:34:08 GMT -8
(Irrational) I anxiously rested on my bed. I asked after my wife and Tabby. I also tried to discreetly ask if Diane was okay, her drowned form entering my head. I wasn't happy with the idea of hospital food. I had been hoping for something a little fancier, so I tried to distract myself by thinking about what I would eat when I got out. The events from the night kept creeping back into my head though. The pain was hard to forget. I don't who had been more disturbed by my lack of body hair, me or the nurse. Mostly me. I told them I was a cyclist. I hoped they believed me. Thai curry with duck. Yeah. Halloween candy. Cigars. Skull monsters. Demon wives. French cheese. Scotch...
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THE END
Dec 17, 2018 22:56:07 GMT -8
Post by Dr. Jar on Dec 17, 2018 22:56:07 GMT -8
I wondered. Had any of that been real? Had it all been some strange dream we all shared? Or perhaps, a hallucination? I could never be sure, and perhaps some part of me did not want to know. I pushed it into the most remote part of my mind.
Part of me knew, I would have to find my mother, and speak with her again. I dreaded the thought, but for the first time in ages, anticipation bloomed within me. I wanted to know her, even if her reality was disappointing. I had to see what kind of person she was now, and she had to see what kind of person I was myself.
I leaned back in the hospital bed and made sure to give myself lots of rest. I was not sure what was going to happen to us, but that was for us to discover.
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THE END
Dec 17, 2018 23:59:47 GMT -8
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Dec 17, 2018 23:59:47 GMT -8
You got a few minutes of rest here and there, though your dreams were shallow and restless. Morning came and those you expected to see arrived, full of sympathy and worry. The guard was still missing, though a newly discovered crack in the hull implied he might have fallen through, his body vanished into the river. They also found shreds of a little boy's t-shirt... Seemed that the mystery might have put to rest with an unsurprisingly bitter note.
You were allowed to go home.
Edmund-- it seemed you were largely forgotten by the establishment, who were far more interested in the well-being of their employees. After another round of questioning, you wouldn't hear from the police again. How did you spend the time with your family? There was no word on Diane. Seemed that you might have to call her yourself. Your dreams were true horror shows, many of it just remixing things you'd really seen. Or did you see anything at all? Did you begin work on your book?
Harriet-- You were allowed a few days medical leave, and the expectation you wouldn't have to continue with the case. (At least what was left of it.) Your dreams would circle back to that warm living room, the steam from the kitchen. Each time you peeked around that wall to see the cook, you woke. What did you do with yourself? Did you really go find your mother?Colt-- The department didn't know what to do with you. Butcher really did turn in his resignation and no one argued. You were given some medical leave, and your comrades and coworkers treated you with a light touch. What did you do next? No way they'd expect you to be back on the case.
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THE END
Dec 18, 2018 0:04:37 GMT -8
Post by Thy Dungyeon Maestyr on Dec 18, 2018 0:04:37 GMT -8
Colt (CSI-Miami-ish)- " "
I tried to keep in touch with Joe, help him recover, but also got back to work ASAP on anything non-Mills-related.
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THE END
Dec 18, 2018 0:51:04 GMT -8
Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Dec 18, 2018 0:51:04 GMT -8
I was more than relieved when the questions stopped. I took time off straight after getting home and my family saw more of me than they had in a long time. I barely left the house except when I had to. I kept expecting someone or something from the cult to turn up to collect their dues whatever it was. I barely slept with the nightmares and began self medicating before my wife forced me to see a doctor. Though it didn’t stop me imbibing in weed for my anxieties. The most disturbing dream strangely, was that the dead and headless ‘ real’ me came back to claim his life. Colt’s words haunted me, was I really just an imposter? Some flimsy copy of Edmund Bassett. It took a while for me to feel sane enough to start seeing clients again. I rang up Diane’s number myself to put at rest at least part of my conscience. I also looked up the young girl to see if she really had attempted suicide. I began writing the book but it was more difficult than I had thought, it kept bringing back memories I was trying desperately to forget. I left out as much of the supernatural as I could, trying to make it out as merely an outlet for the psychological issues faced by Mills and the team that worked with him. I tried contacting some of the others for reference, except Colt. She still scared me.
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THE END
Dec 18, 2018 22:42:00 GMT -8
Post by Dr. Jar on Dec 18, 2018 22:42:00 GMT -8
Harriet- I took my medical leave, albeit I was less than thrilled by the idea of spending time outside of work, battered and off-centered as I felt. There was just some part of me, that hated having nothing to do. Being trapped in a nonexistence prison. I hated it.
I let my mind wander to the kitchen. Was it a real memory? Something that could have been? I remember good times with my mother when she acted like everyone else's mother, and I could not help but long to be like that too. I had never reflected on that part of me that felt envy when people talked about their family. What was it like to have a mother and father who loved one another, who never had terrible arguments where things were thrown. I had hidden in my closet and plugged my ears too many times, before my parents divorced.
They all thought of my mother, Diana as a parasite. But.. Was she really? Who was this woman? I had never thought of her as a person before, only abstraction. Still, now, I wanted to know her. The reality and not my fabrication.
I sought her out in my life. I knew where to look.
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THE END
Dec 19, 2018 14:29:57 GMT -8
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Dec 19, 2018 14:29:57 GMT -8
Colt -- Life went on, though work was strange. You were shuffled from case to case, people treating you like you couldn't handle anything. Maybe they were just projecting what they'd feel like in such a bizarre situation. At any rate, the race track was still there, and you still had your homies. Who knew what you'd get up to in the future...Edmund-- Diane didn't answer, but her recording still played. She was a real person once, at least you thought she was. The teen girl was still alive and well, though had reportedly been in a 'dark place' after your time together. One of your colleagues had taken on her case and had better luck. Your family's feelings went from worry and sympathy to confusion and wariness. You seemed different, somehow. Work on the book was hard, at least, until the first packet arrived. Slipped under your door in the night, a golden envelope full of printed pages. Pages of the story you were working on. These were bizarre though, containing odd turns of phrase and awkward typos, though the note on top forbade you to change any of it. At least it helped with the word count. Your editor loved it, in any case. 'Don't change a word!' The publishing deal was already lined up, before you even asked.Harriet-- How much of that vision of your mother was your own imagination? The kind of mother you wanted? Still, you found an all too human person on the other side of the phone. She was amazed you'd want to see her. There were tears, of course, regret and joy and sorrow. What were you getting yourself into? Defenses are put up for reasons, though did you need them anymore? She was difficult in the ways you expected, though not the monster you might have imagined her in bad moments. Her imperfections were glaring, but maybe they seemed so bad because they reflected all the things you never wanted to be. She appreciated your time together, whatever help you gave her. Wanted more, of course, but people often do. Whatever new problems arose from breaking down this wall, at least it was done and the worry and expectation released.Everyone-- Sometimes you dreamt of a fiery tower. It vibrated the ground with the pounding of its heart. Coutless windows lit in red, faces in each of them, staring out. They were trapped in their jail cells, together yet separate. Isolated together, forever. Even apart, they always had each other. Even if they couldn't speak, they could hear each other's wails and sobs. Wasn't that all anyone wanted? You knew in your heart, a special phrase. You just had to say it, one future day as you lay dying.בואי אלי, אמא כהה҉͠ And she would be there with open arms, ready to tuck you away in some safe cubby hole. To lock you away in your room, forever and ever, where no one could harm you. Safe in mother's arms.
THE END
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