Outpatient - A Story of Horror and Madness by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 15

Catherine staggered up to the door of her cabin, exhausted and soaked by the cold rain. She tried the doorknob and somehow, through the haze of psychotic confusion, she realized that she left her keys in her car. Catherine knew that she was physically unable to return to her car, and peering through the window her weakened body against the door. Unable to budge it even slightly, she turned her back to the door and slid down to a sitting position on the cold, wet ground. With her elbows on her knees, she cradled her forehead with her hands and began crying, desperate for a way out of the nightmare she was living. Her tears suddenly turned to anger as she rose to her feet and screamed, punching a jagged hole in one of the four panes of the front door. Just as quickly, she pulled her fist out from the glassy irregular hole, but shock and her state of mind would not allow Catherine to feel the gashes that the glass had carved down her arm and hand. She opened the door from the inside and, darting into her cabin, quickly slammed it shut, as if to keep someone or something from forcing its way in. She found her way to a light switch, completely unaware that the wounds on her hand and arm now pattered blood that followed her in a trail across the floor. Forgetting that the entire valley had been cast into darkness, Catherine hit the light switch, and when nothing happened she suddenly felt lost in her own home.

“Fuck, what now?!” she said. Then she remembered Ivan, who made it a habit of hiding under her bed during thunderstorms. She crawled along the floor, making her way to her bedroom, and peering under the bed, saw Ivan as a quivering bundle of nervous fur.

“Ivan,” she said, with a gentle voice.

“Come here, baby. Mommy"s here.” Ivan looked up and chirped gently, but when Catherine reached back for him, he reared back and hissed loudly. She gasped and reflexively pulled her hand back as he growled at her slightly, his eyes turning red like glowing embers in the night. Her breathing became panicked as Catherine backed out of her bedroom and slammed the door shut. Without Ivan there to comfort her, she became fully aware of how alone she was but, she still couldn't find her way through the house.

Out across the treetops, a pulse of lightning lit the sky in warning of the destructive force still to come. Somehow, through the chaotic torment that ran rampant through her mind, she experienced a brief moment of clarity and saw an opportunity. Whenever the lightning illuminated the inside of the house, Catherine would use it to gain her bearings and to see where she needed to go. She had stored candles and knew exactly where they were. It was now just a matter of getting to them. Catherine made her way to a small closet just off the kitchen and frantically felt around the shelves. She soon laid her hands on the candles, as well as a candleholder and a box of stick matches. Lighting one of the matches, she was now able to see well enough to put a candle in the brass holder and as the wick burned, the inside of the house took on an eerie glow.

Still shivering from the cold, Catherine went to the couch and, grabbing the throw that covered it, threw it around her shoulders. She heard the rain intensify again and went over to her phone to call Nancy. She desperately needed to talk to her, but the line was dead. Cursing to herself, she hung up the phone and turned back toward the kitchen when a brilliant bolt of lightning tore its way across the sky. Its white flash revealed the dark silhouette of a large-framed stranger peering at her through her kitchen window. Catherine screamed in terror as the faceless stranger placed a hand up on the window pane.

“Go away!” she screamed. She backed up toward the couch and, covering her eyes, began to hyperventilate again. When she looked back up at the window, the large dark figure had disappeared.

She ran to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and holding the candle up she opened its mirrored door. It was only now that she saw her hand, lacerated by the jagged glass of the window she was forced to break to get into her cabin. But, she still felt no pain, due mostly to exhaustion and shock. Catherine rummaged through the cabinet, looking for the one thing she believed would take away the demons that haunted her mind.

“Where the fuck is it?!” she screamed. Within moments, she had pushed the contents of the medicine cabinet out onto the floor and was now on her hands and knees in a panicked search.

“Shit!” Catherine cursed, with both desperation and frustration.

She set the candle on the floor and used both hands to examine every box, jar, and bottle until finding a prescription bottle of Lorazepam. Catherine"s violently trembling hands opened the bottle, spilling its contents across the floor. As she hurriedly reached for the round white pills, her fumbling hands knocked over the candle.

Once again, in complete darkness, she clutched one of the pills in her fist and crawled over to a corner of the bathroom. She curled up in the fetal position while frantically putting the pill under her tongue. It wasn't more than a few minutes until it had completely melted and entered her bloodstream, but it would take time for it to take effect. Catherine again became concerned about Ivan as she heard him crying and scratching against the bedroom door. She was still in a state of terror, but Ivan's cries caused her maternal instincts to suddenly overwhelm her fears, as well as her sense of caution. Catherine crowned out of the bathroom and through the contents of the medicine cabinet that lay strewn across the floor.

“Ivan?” she called. “Mommy"s coming.” She paused briefly to wipe the tears from her eyes, then continued across the floor, stopping at the bedroom door. With the next flash of lightning, she saw one of Ivan's paws exploring the space between the door and the hardwood floor. Catherine reached up and turning the doorknob cracked the door open by an inch or two.

“Mommy"s right here,” she said. Her voice was gentle and calming, but still quivering with fear and confusion. Ivan pressed his face against the space created by the slightly open door and began licking her fingers as she touched his nose in an attempt to comfort him.

“Mommy will let you out as soon as she has the lights back on, okay?” She carefully closed the door, confining Ivan to the bedroom again, and, rising to her feet, turned to cautiously make her way through the darkness and back into the living room. Catherine felt her way back to the closet for another candle, and this time she found them with a great deal less effort. She also found a wooden candleholder as well as some stick matches. Catherine knew that somewhere in the house was a flashlight, but in her psychotic haze she was unable to remember where it was.

Again, she lit a candle and was able to see well enough to push it down into the candleholder. Catherine stood up and, after turning back toward the living room, suddenly screamed as a familiar figure stood before her.

“Daddy?” she said. Her voice was panicked, and again she began hyperventilating as the sight of her dead father pushed her back against the wall.

“No…no. But you"re…” She tried to shake the image from her mind and, looking back up, found that the figure of her father remained unmoved with unblinking eyes fixed upon her. Standing in the walkway of her living room, he stood dressed in the suit he'd been buried in, covered with smears of dirt and stains of decay. His face was pale and as his eyes stood open in a wide gaze, a plastic eye cap, previously inserted by a funeral technician, dislodged itself with an almost silent pop and slid down his cheek, landing on the floor. Catherine covered her mouth and gagged slightly as she witnessed this grotesque scene when the figure spoke. Cocking his head slightly to one side as a thin trail of green tinged fluid ran out of his nose and slowly down his cheek.

“Cat,” he said.

It was indeed her father's voice, but devoid of personality or life, forcing Catherine's eyes back up to his face.

“This isn"t happening…this isn"t happening,” she repeated to herself.

“You"re dead! I saw you die!”

“Cat,” he repeated. “None of this is real.”

“No!” Catherine screamed. Nothing made sense to her anymore, and turning away from the pale figure, she ran a few steps to the kitchen and grabbed a cast iron pan. She ran the three or four steps back to the living room, but in her haste dropped the candle and was once again in the dark. However, the darkness didn't stop her from swinging the pan through the air.

“You're dead!” she screamed. Her voice was filled with rage as she searched through the darkened living room for something she could no longer see.

“Where the fuck are you?!” she yelled. There was no response, and she continued to swing the heavy cast iron pan at the empty air.

Catherine stopped in the middle of her battle with the imaginary corpse when a pair of lights appeared in front of her cabin. After going out, there was a brief silence, then a tapping on the front door. Nancy had finally arrived after leaving the roadblock where Catherine's car remained on the highway.

“Cath?” Nancy called. “It"s me, Nancy, are you

alright?”

She discovered the small pane of glass that had been broken and noticed blood on the doorknob. She quickly came to the conclusion that Catherine was inside and considering the conditions she walked through to get home, Nancy felt that Catherine would be in dire need of medical attention.

Upon hearing Nancy knock at the front door, Catherine crouched down around the corner from the living room just inside the entrance to the kitchen. She still clutched the cast iron pan tightly in her hands and began whispering gibberish to herself. Opening the door by only a few inches, Nancy looked cautiously around the living room. She always carried a small pen light for safety, and taking it out of her pocket cast its dim light around the house. Seeing nothing but furniture and bits of broken glass, Nancy slowly stepped into the cabin. She heard the crunch of glass underfoot, and she took a first step through the doorway. As she took another step, she again called out to Catherine.

“Cath, it's Nancy. Everything"s going to be okay.”

She wanted Catherine to feel comforted by the sound of her voice, but Catherine was still fighting the demons that forced their way into her mind – violating her every thought.

Nancy continued walking slowly through the house, making her way around the end of the couch. Shining her penlight on the floor, she stopped when the light fell on the candle that now lay broken in half and dislodged from the candleholder. The lightning still flashed outside, creating eerie shadows among the furniture and trinkets that had been carefully organized in the living room. Now, she was certain that Catherine was in the house and thought that she was likely in her bedroom, trying to hide from the storm. However, as she approached the corner that turned off toward the kitchen, Catherine suddenly appeared in the dull beam of Nancy's penlight. Her clothes were still soaked from the rain and her hair had become matted down to her head. Catherine glared at her with an angry, wild look and began screaming as she swung the heavy pan, striking Nancy against the side of her head near her left eye.

“Don't touch me!” Catherine screamed. Nancy was forced back a step by the impact, dropping her penlight and staggering slightly as her hand went to the place that now felt as though it was on fire.

“Cath, it's me, Nancy!” she pleaded. She raised her other hand, holding it out, trying to fend off any continued attacks, but Catherine stepped toward her and swung from the other direction. This time, the pan landed solidly against

Nancy's forearm, breaking both bones and leaving it in an obvious state of disfigurement. Nancy screamed from the sudden onset of fiery pain and dropped to her knees.

“Cath, listen to me!” she begged tearfully. “It's Nancy! I just…”

Her words were cut short by another blow to the side of her head, and it was with that Nancy lost consciousness, landing hard on the living room floor.

Catherine's exhaustion had now been replaced by a state of psychotic rage, as she continued to scream with each swing of the cast iron pan.

“Get the fuck out!” she screamed. “I saw you die!”

She swung the pan repeatedly from side to side, throwing heavy trails of blood across the walls and up onto the ceiling. By the time Catherine had become physically exhausted, Nancy's head and face had taken on the appearance of a bloody, half rotten jack o' lantern. Her jaw had become grossly dislocated and several bones in her skull and face were fractured. Nancy had been severely beaten beyond all hope and as she exhaled her last breath, Catherine stepped back, dropping the pan to the floor where it landed with a loud thud.

Catherine stared at Nancy's lifeless body and through an almost imperceptibly brief window of lucidity, now realized that she"d bludgeoned her best friend to death. She screamed and dropped to her knees, where she began crying hysterically. All Catherine wanted to do now was run away – away from her haunted mind; away from the reality that lay sprawled out on her living room floor. She got back to her feet and continued stepping away from the gruesome scene that had played out by her own hand.

“I'm sorry… Nancy, I'm sorry,” she said, with a whimper in her voice.

“I didn't mean to… I swear.”

Unable to absorb the reality of killing her closest friend, Catherine became caught in a moment of blind panic. She ran to the front door and, throwing it open with enough force to shatter another of its windows, left the cabin in ran blindly down Stratton Brook Road towards the highway. She didn't know where she was running, she just wanted to get away and upon reaching the end of the road, Catherine crossed the first lane of Route 27. As she entered the middle of the next lane, she was frozen in place by the lights of an oncoming car. Her eyes widened with terror as, for a brief instant, she saw the driver's expression – the look of panic and anticipated horror; the moment when time freezes to an icy halt. She felt a momentary impact and seemed to float away as the car's tires ground to a stop on the wet asphalt. Catherine landed hard on the pavement with the back of her head striking the roadway, immediately rendering her unconscious and splitting her scalp into a bloody gaping wound. As the hands of time once again commenced their motion, Catherine's skidding body came to a stop.

The driver leaped from his car and ran to her side, not wanting to move her for fear of worsening her injuries. He got down on his knees and leaning over called to her.

“Miss, Hey! Wake up!” he yelled.

But Catherine showed no signs of waking, and from where she lay there was nothing – no numbness, no stars of twilight consciousness fading from a field of blackened sight. From the back of her head, blood streamed across the pavement like a river at its crest and her pupils became dim, growing to the size of no return. As her body lay on the highway, her soul took flight like a startled bird as another flicker of lightning cast its reflection off of her open, lifeless eyes.