Krähe by Charles Bedlam (motivational books for men .TXT) 📕

What happened to Isabelle wasn't your fault. How many years have I been telling you that?”
“Four years, eight months, two weeks, and six days... If I had only stayed with her-”
“He would have killed you too. I would have lost my daughter and my best friend.”
There was a dreary silence between them. He had been telling her for so long to stop blaming herself for Isabelle's death, but she was convinced that it was her fault and in her mind, it always would be. Derek went to the desk and observed some of Julia's drawings.
“These are new,” he said. “Who are these people?”
“They're just some of the other patients.”
Going through them, Derek was surprised to see a drawing of the very same woman that had pulled him aside in the hallway. He held it up.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“Dahlia,” Julia replied, standing next to him. “Even for this place, she's kind of weird. She claims she can see the future so a lot people here just call her The Witch.”
The Witch. Aleena had warned him about such a person before he left home.
“What's wrong with her?”
“I couldn't tell you. She's been here for a long time, I guess. I try to stay out of her way.”
Derek flipped through the drawings. Aside from the other patients, he saw some interior drawings, a few drawings of the courtyard outside, and some abstract pieces. The third abstract piece closely resembled a crow in flight.
“That one represents you,” Julia said. “Cool, isn't it?”
“Uh, yeah. I like it a lot.”
He set the drawing down and looked at her.
“What?” she said blushing.
“Nothing. It's just good to see you again. Let's get something to eat.”
Derek and Julia went to the cafeteria where she was able to get a sandwich, water, vegetables, and her medicine. They sat at the table for about an hour and talked about what Derek had been up to in the past couple of months. Finding a job, thinking of traveling, the usual lies. The truth is Derek has been using his time away from the mask to convince himself that his daughter's death was indeed his fault. On the other hand, Julia had been going to therapy as often as she could so that she could get help forgiving herself for Isabelle's murder.
It wasn't as easy as it might sound. Every day, she replayed the events of that night in her head over and over, trying to think of anything she could have done to stop it. But there were things to consider. She couldn't have known that it was going to happen. She could have passed him on the street and not known it. Every scenario that she could think of ended up with she and Isabelle dying together. At the very least she wouldn’t have died alone. The thought of Derek's daughter terrified and hurt was almost too much to bear.
After the events of the day, Julia and Derek sat in the recreation room where the other patients and their visitors watched television or listened to the radio. Some played board games and others sat and chatted. Derek and his friend sat on a couch and were preparing to say their goodbyes. Dahlia was sitting in a corner, hugging her knees and looking around, as if watching something moving in the air.
“Flies in the web,” Dahlia muttered. “Flies in the web. Flies in the web. Flies in the web...”
It was funny. Derek had so much fun with Julia. He hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. He had forgotten that Dr. Weaver was even at Holloway. That is, until the lights cut off. Immediately many of the patients began screaming and running around. The orderlies shone flashlights to try and maintain order. Fortunately the emergency lights turned on. It was dark outside now and visiting hours were nearly over. Derek was hesitant to leave Julia's side, but what happened next made him decide to stay. As order came back to the room, the intercom cut on and an elderly, sickly voice spoke.
“They made a mistake by bringing me here,” Dr. Weaver wheezed. You are all trapped here...”
“Likes flies in the web,” Dahlia said, staring into Derek's eyes.
“Like the insects you are, I will devour you. This man thought he could 'cure' me.” Dr. Weaver laughed.
The orderlies ran around. One man attempted to call the police only to find that the line was dead.
“Now he's going to die,” Weaver continued. “Any last words?”
His hostage screamed in the background as the sickening sound of blade through flesh was heard. Then the doctor's voice was no more.
“All patients get back to your rooms!” one of the orderlies instructed. Visitors, please remain in this room while we deal with this situation.”
Although he sounded brave, Derek knew he was terrified out of his mind. This man spent his time dealing with mental patients, not serial killers. Derek knew what he had to do.
He took Julia's hand and walked her to her room. It was right down the hall so he hurried.
“Hide here and don't come out,” he instructed.
“Derek, I'm scared,” she exclaimed, “please don't leave me!”
“It's okay,” Derek said, holding her tight. “I won't let anything happen to you. I'm going to go get the police.”
He released her and looked into her eyes as best he could in the dim light. He smiled, awkwardly and she went in her room, still staring at him. He closed the door and turned, his smile quickly fading into the serious face that hides behind the mask of Krähe. He quickly found a utility closet with no one near by.
He reached into his bag and pulled out his costume. He quickly suited up and placed his mask over his face. He then called out to Aleena.
“Aleena,” he thought, “I need my scythe. Dr. Weaver is here at Holloway. I must defeat him.”
After a few seconds, a glowing purple light illuminated the dark closet and the scythe materialized out of thin air. He took it in his hand and felt its dark energies coursing through him. As always when he held the scythe, his eyes glowed a dark and dim, hellish red. He left the closet.
His first instinct was to find where Dr. Weaver had been. He figured the head director's office would have the intercom system. Something else bothered him as he was searching. Aleena had warned him to beware the Witch. Did Dahlia have something to do with Dr. Weaver? If she did, she would have to be put down like all the others. He continued, wary of his surroundings.
While Krähe searched, Dr. Weaver found himself in a medical examination room. It was a giant circular room with a pit in the center. On the outside of the pit, a wall separated several rows of chairs that ascended to the edges of the room. There were several stair cases between them, leading down into the pit. Opposite the doors, was a booth from which doctors could observes learning students. On this particular night, there was a stretcher in the center of the pit with a bleeding nurse strapped to it, several corpses scattered about, and a madman with a fetish for torture.
Dr. Weaver had found his way out of his straight jacket and wore nothing but white asylum pants, now stained with blood. His body was shriveled and old, but it didn't seem to slow him down. On his hands and feet, he had three rusty blades that were each a foot long. Although rusty, they were still very much able to cut. He stalked the nurse on the table and laughed to himself as he cut her from her shoulder all the way down her arm. She tried to scream though the rag shoved in her mouth, but that only pleased the him more.
On the asylum's upper floors, after about ten minutes of searching, Krähe had finally found the office where Dr. Weaver had been. It would have been a nice office. It had a beautiful wooden desk, a dark blue sofa, a bookshelf full of dozens of books, baby blue curtains, and a glob on a table near the window. The only thing that thew the room off was the three dead bodies lying on the floor. Blood was splattered all over the wall and the window. Krähe found the microphone where Dr. Weaver made his announcement. He thought for a moment, then pushed the button.
“I'm coming for you, Weaver,” he said darkly. “And when I find you, you will pay for this.”
Back in the examination room, Dr. Weaver looked up and smiled a wicked smile.
“Come little crow,” he said, still torturing the nurse. “Come.”
Krähe left the office and walked down the hall. He peaked around the corner, and when he felt satisfied that it was safe, he continued. As he passed another hallway, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Ready to swing his scythe, he once again found himself face to face with Dahlia.
“I told you to beware the spider!” she whispered. “You should have listened!”
Krähe didn't know if in the darkness his dreadlocks reminded her of Derek or if she actually knew who he was. He decided to remain silent and not respond to Dahlia's statement. That is until he had a realization.
“You knew this was going to happen!?” he scowled.
“Well... yes, but-”
“How?!” Krähe demanded, grabbing her arms.
“I-I had a dream about it! I have dreams all the time about bad people doing bad things. But I'm not involved with him, I swear!”
Krähe sighed. He believed her. “Go and hide. I'll go take care of Weaver.”
“But I want to help you.”
“You can help by going away.”
Krähe turned his back to her and continued his quest to locate Dr. Weaver. Even though he didn't want her to, Dahlia followed him. Perhaps she felt that it was her duty to help since she knew about it before hand. Krähe peeked around the corners before going around them, spotting a few orderlies, but no Weaver and nothing leading him to the evil doctor.
“Do you hear that?” Dahlia asked.
“What?”
“Someone screaming for help.”
Dahlia traveled the opposite direction, back down the hall that they had just come down. She turned a corner and went through a door and up two floors. When she came out, Krähe could hear it. It was a woman; the policewoman that he had met outside of the asylum. He raced on ahead of her and they found themselves in the Solitary Confinement ward. It was a long hall full of heavy metal doors on each side. The seventh door on the right was where she was trapped.
“Stand back!” he said to the officer
Krähe wedged the blade of his scythe in the crack of the door and wedged it open. Almost as soon as it was cleared, Krähe was brutally knocked into the cell. He fell into the woman and they both hit the padded floor. The door slammed behind them and Dahlia screamed.
“You stay right