Needlehands

Patient: Daniel C. Gale
Age: 26
Admitted For: PTSD, Insomnia, Night Terrors, Delusions
Description: Brown hair, Brown eyes, 6'3, 137 lbs.
File(s) Attached: Letter by patient
They told me if I wrote it down it would help, maybe I could get it out of my mind. Well God damn it something like that doesn't just go away if you put it to paper. I will never forget that. I’m already crying, shaking, I’m acting like when I first got here. The nurses are watching me; they won’t let me stop now that I finally agreed to type this up. So let’s start from the beginning.
I was walking home from my new job at the bookstore down the street from my apartment. It had just opened and I had needed a job to pay off my student loans. I saw a bum covered in dirty blankets in an alleyway, it looked like he was trying to keep warm. The night was cold, the seasons were changing, oh how I can remember it so clearly, I had always enjoyed the cold. I had felt bad for the bum, I went up to him. I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have. If I had just kept walking, just continued on my way, my life could still be normal, I could be home, I could be normal, I wouldn't be here. All I could see was a plastic cup that he was holding out, shaking, asking for a few coins. A sign was propped up next to the huddled figure, “Veteran. Please help. God bless.” What a joke.
I never go up to bums on the street, especially at this time of night, but that evening I had some extra change and it was cold. I wish I never had done that, that second, I could have kept walking, I would be fine.
I can barely keep my hands typing and I haven’t even got to the monster.
Well I went up to the beggar and I dropped a few coins into his cup. The figure’s face was covered. I murmured, “God bless,” to him as I started to turn and walk away. Before I could pull my hand back though, another hand reached out and grabbed me around the wrist with a grip like iron. The hand that grabbed me with wasn't human; it was cracked, bony and grey, the skin was stretched almost to a point of ripping. It had long claw like fingers that looked as sharp as knives. I tried to scream but another appendage wrapped around my neck, cutting off both my voice and my breathing. My vision started to go blurry and black around the edges, I tried to kick and punch my way out of the things grip but all I managed to do was knock the blanket down off its face. It was terrible, with long, greasy yellowish grey hair that looked like it had never been brushed in years, deep black holes with a faint white glow deep in the sockets instead of eyes. Its mouth was covered up with one of those masks that doctors wear during surgeries; the mask itself was splattered with black flecks, dried blood I assume. I was fading fast, the gray tunnel cutting off my vision until everything went dark. I’m so yellow, I bet I fainted; I’m such a Goddamn coward. That was too soon to pass out from lack of oxygen; well it would have ended the same anyways even if I wasn't such a wimp.
When I woke up I was laying down on what felt like a slab of concrete. A light was blinding me; it was one of those things dentists and doctors used when they're examining you. I tried to bring my hand up to shield my eyes but I couldn't move it, I couldn't move anything. I was strapped down, I tried struggling, and then I tried screaming. I heard movement to my right and the light was moved upwards so I could see the monster standing above me.  It was tall and slouched, it looked about 7 feet, it had six arms, two like a normal human and four sprouting from its back that were like the one that grabbed me. The thing was wearing what looked like old fashioned hospital scrubs; they were splattered with dried blood like its mask. It bent down and peered into my eyes with its glowing sockets. I spat at the thing. It stood up abruptly and wiped off its face, and then it laughed. God that laugh is what haunts me the most, it sounded like the laugh of a lifelong smoker, if said smoker ate nails every day. The things voice was the same.
“W-what are you?" I stammered I don’t know why I did; it just came out, like I couldn't control what I was doing.
The thing laughed its awful laugh again “I’m Needlehands.” It said, like we were gonna shake hands or something, like everything was fine, like I wasn't strapped down to a table and a monster was standing above me. I screamed again a loud scream that echoed around the small room. It, Needlehands covered my mouth, cutting off my scream.
“No shh, don’t scream.” I started to struggle. “No be calm, this will be fun.” It took its hands off my mouth, I screamed again. “No you have to be quiet, you have to be quiet!” It raised its voice like a parent would scold a young child. “No more screaming.”
One of its hands pried my mouth open and the other brought its long, claw finger up to my face. I tried to yank my head away but the thing had such a strong grip. Another hand came and grabbed my tongue, pulling it so far out of my mouth I thought it would be ripped out. The claw came down and a burning sharp pain with a metallic taste shot across my face. The pain washed over me but I could no longer scream due to my mouth being full of blood, only a wet gurgling sound came out.  The monster let go of my jaw and head. I tried to lean my head over the side of the slab but I was still tied down. I could now only breathe out of my nose or else I would choke on my own blood. “We've only begun.” The thing said as it grabbed what looked like the thing dentists use to suck out your spit during procedures. It used it to suck out the blood that was already running out the sides of my mouth. After most of the blood was gone, Needlehands stuffed a wad of gauze into my mouth to stop the rest of the bleeding.
“Can't have my rat dying on me now can I?” There was that laugh again, like this was all just a joke or a pleasant conversation. “You see”, it continued, “you are necessary for my latest experiment, you are going to be a success. Not like that last rat. Too weak, all you humans, too weak.” The monster shook its head like I was a disappointment child. “But you see, there are so many of your kind, enough to fuel my experiments for years to come!” It tilted its light so that the walls of the room were now illuminated; I wish they would have stayed in the shadows. There was blood everywhere, splattered on the walls, covering the floor. One wall was completely filled with old medical equipment, like museum old. On another wall there was a glass door, it looked to be some kind of freezer. Inside it was filled with bags of blood, limbs, organs, like out of a classic horror movie. I guess this whole thing was like out of a horror movie. The other walls contained even more terrifying things, dried human skins, different bones, even some sweaters that looked to be knitted out of flesh. I tried to scream again, but the gurgling was the only sound I could make. “Hopefully you won't be the next addition to the failures.” The voice startled me, it was so sudden, and I was so focused on those walls that I forgot what was next to me. “I think it’s time for us to begin.” Even though its mouth was covered by that mask, I knew it was smiling. I could hear it in the things distorted voice.
Needlehands ripped off my bloody shirt and brought its finger down to my chest, slowly slicing my skin open like a knife through butter. Again my first response was to scream, but that was no longer an option.  “You’re going to be my success” It said as it started humming something, it sounded like something my grandparents would listen to. How old was this thing? It dug its finger deeper, scraping my rib bones. That was the most intense pain I have ever felt, or ever felt since. The pain started to fade, as did my consciousness, until all that I saw was pitch black.
When I woke again everything was pain, a bloody mess of pain ripping across my body. I looked down and all I could think of was I looked like one of those bodies in a crime show, when they’re undergoing an autopsy. There was a Y shaped cut starting at my collar bone and ending at my hip bones. The skin was peeled away and hanging off the table. My intestines were pulled out and on a table next to me, still connected but not in me. My ribs were broken, spread out to my sides. I remember thinking of an old form of torture where the ribs would be broken and ripped open too look something like wings. I looked over to see a bag of blood hanging on one of those poles at hospitals, a needle was stuck into my arm, I guess that’s how I haven't died of blood loss yet, I thought dumbly.
It stood over me, still intent on its operation. “Everything is going well.” Needlehands told me without looking up. “I’m very close to being finished.” It was now covered nearly head to toe in blood, my blood I realized. It started packing my intestines back in and pushing down my rib cage. It took my skin flaps and laid them back onto where they were sliced off. Needlehands took a needle and thick black sutures and started sewing my gaping wound closed. Pain was everywhere. I felt lightheaded from it and by the time the wound was closed I felt like I was fading again. For the third time my cowardly ass lost consciousness.
Cold breeze blasted my face, startling me awake again. It had me cradled under one arm as it hopped and leaped across building tops. It had grabbed its blanket again and completely covered itself. Needlehands stopped about a block away from what I realized was the local hospital. It brought out my cell phone which I forgot I had. “Call, call! I don’t want to lose a success.” I tried to lift up my hand but it felt like my skin was made of lead. “I'll call. I’ll call. You wait, stay awake.” I heard the beeping of my phone as it called 911. Needlehands dropped the phone onto me and turned to run. It sprinted down the road then ducked into an alleyway out of sight.
“Hello? What is your emergency?” A lady had answered the phone. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I tried to make some kind of noise to get her attention. “Can you talk?” when I didn't reply the woman continued, “I’m sending the police and an ambulance to your location, help should be there soon.” Sure enough I could hear sirens approaching in a minute. Everything after that was a blur, rushing to the emergency room, countless surgeries. Then the questions, all the questions. “What happened?” “Who did this to you?” “Describe him.” A never-ending flood of questions, so many I thought I would drown in them. Slowly they died away when the doctors deemed me incapable of retrieving any useful memory. Made me sound like a computer. The doctors told me the monster was just a man, my brain made him seem like a monster under the situation I was in. Doctors can be so stupid sometimes. I know what happened; my constant statement of this was probably what had landed me here. That and the horrible night terrors, the dreams where I was back in that room with Needlehands standing over me.
I’m going to be stuck in this mental ward for life, especially after they read this. Well, do you believe me now?
Category:Mental Illness