by Zel Spasov
CURSE OF THE RED EVIL
By Zel Spasov
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 Zel Spasov
Cover designed by MiblArt.
All rights reserved.
Acknowledgements
For everyone who supported me on this journey.
Free gift
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Chapter 1
C ayden awoke at 6:05 a.m., almost an hour and a half before breakfast time. Still hazy from the drugs he was required to take, anxiety and panic overcame him. He went about his usual ritual of rocking back and forth, hugging his knees, repeating, “Guilty… Guilty…”
“You’re doing that thing again. Ribbit,” Jean said in a cross voice. “I can’t sleep with you acting like a lunatic.”
Jean, an older man with a long beard, and Cayden’s roommate, thought he was becoming a frog and finished most of his sentences with a croak. Some of the other patients at Mercy Psychiatric Hospital also suffered from schizophrenia associated with clinical lycanthropy—a peculiar condition that made them think they were turning into animals. Charles, who Cayden had become friendly with, thought he was a rabbit. There was also Lenny, a big, slow man who didn’t talk much and imagined he was a sloth.
Cayden had heard Jean but couldn’t respond. He was stuck in his state, repeating the word.
“Come on,” said Jean. “Those damn techs are gonna come knocking soon, ribbit. If they see you like this, they’re gonna call Doctor Dimitriou, and she’ll give you some more of that awful medicine. You don’t want that, do you? Ribbit.”
“Guilty…”
“Suit yourself,” said Jean. He sat on the floor near Cayden, leaving enough distance between them so Cayden could feel safe.
Cayden appreciated the gesture—Jean was one of the few people who cared about him in this hospital. Oftentimes, Cayden was stuck in this state, sometimes for hours on end, and Jean would stay with him until it passed. His presence helped Cayden to not feel so alone.
They stayed like that for the next fifty minutes until the orderlies came to notify them they should be ready for breakfast at 7:30 a.m.
“Come on,” said Jean. “Time to brush your teeth, ribbit. Or do you want to miss breakfast again?”
Cayden calmed down enough to brush his teeth, make his bed, and put on a sweatshirt before going out. As he hauled his weakened body toward the dining room, where he would stand in line for breakfast, his muscles tightened at venturing outside of his room. Jean’s presence helped him calm down.
Thursday: fried eggs on toast day. With some weak coffee, the welcome nutrition would help Cayden survive another day at the hospital.
He and Jean sat together. Charles “The Rabbit” and Lenny “The Sloth” joined them.
“I hate this,” said Charles.
“It’s better than most breakfasts I’ve had outside of here, ribbit,” said Jean.
“No, not the breakfast,” said Charles. He wiggled his nose, and a lock of his dark brown hair fell onto his pale cheek. “The new rules of ‘Doctor Perfect.’” The patients had nicknamed Doctor Dimitriou “Perfect” because of her unnaturally impeccable appearance. “It’s like she wants to see us suffer. I don’t trust her.”
Cayden wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he made himself smaller when he heard her name. Doctor Dimitriou’s name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember from where. Did he know her? He had vague recollections, but they were all hazy, partly due to the loss of memory he had experienced before arriving at the hospital and partly due to the antipsychotic medicine they gave him that kept him in a half-asleep state.
“I’ve never trusted anyone here, even before that evil woman appeared, ribbit. She’s just like the rest of them,” said Jean. “You’re realizing it now, ‘cause you’re complacent.”
“Am not,” said Charles. “There’s something creepy about her. I don’t know what it is, but it’s trouble. Don’t you think it’s just a little bit weird her only patient is Cayden?”
Fraud, a patient suffering from megalomania, sat next to Cayden. He thought he was king and everyone should follow his decrees.
“Be quiet, you four,” he commanded them. “Doctor Dimitriou’s decree is clear: no more shenanigans during breakfast. Especially from this one.” He pointed at Cayden.
“Leave him alone, Fraud,” said Jean. “You go back to Doctor Dimitriou and tell her not to bother us, ribbit.”
“You don’t give the orders around here, I do,” Fraud said. “I will have you hanged for this disobedience.”
Cayden curled into a ball in his seat, grabbed his knees, and rocked back and forth.
“Don’t you threaten me, you spineless coward,” said Jean.
Fraud’s face turned red. “Mutiny!” he yelled. “They are disobeying their king! Arrest them!”
The patients around them became nervous. A big man with schizophrenia stood up from his place and started punching the walls, screaming, “They’re here to get me!”
Cayden violently rocked back and forth as he repeated, “Guilty.”
Somebody screamed, “Code one!” and the security staff entered the cafeteria. Two big men approached Cayden and grabbed him, pulling him off his chair. He fought them, but they were much stronger than him.
“Let him go! He didn’t do anything,” yelled Jean as he lunged at the two men. More members of security came, overwhelming him as well.
“We won’t tolerate aggressive outbursts,” said Doctor Persephone Dimitriou, who had materialized in the cafeteria, dressed in an immaculate white apron and red heels. “Lock them in the seclusion rooms.”
Usually, whenever a patient displayed aggressive behavior, a nurse or a psychiatrist could order them to be put in one of those soundproof rooms with padded floors and walls. Ordering seclusion for a patient was a cruel act, but no one dared to oppose Doctor Dimitriou’s orders.
The other patients watched in shock as security dragged the screaming Cayden and Jean, and the man with the schizophrenia, to the rooms and locked them in.
Cayden shouted for help, but the cell was soundproof. No one could hear him.
Click.
Persephone’s heel made a hole in the time-space continuum.
Clack.
Her next step bored through reality.
The windows of the surrounding rooms froze. Their occupants covered themselves with their blankets to get warm. But this wasn’t an ordinary chill. It sneaked through the small openings in the doors like a snake, crawling up the legs of the patients, wrapping itself around their bodies, paralyzing their limbs. Its head appeared from their collars and licked their faces with its icy tongue.
Click.
Doctor Dimitriou stopped in front of Jean’s door.
The old man stood still, immobilized by her hypnotic gaze. The blood pulled back from his face, and he shivered. The doctor opened the door to his room and instructed two burly men to restrain him while she injected him with medicine. The poor man struggled desperately to break free from the orderlies’ grips.
Cayden couldn’t stand watching Jean suffer. He had to distract Persephone, even if it meant he would have to endure the pain instead. He yelled, but the noise remained in the cell. Cayden got up and went to the wall opposite the door, then ran with full speed against it. Although the door was padded, the resulting crash was loud enough to draw Persephone’s attention away from Jean and toward Cayden.
The bearded man relaxed, collapsing, exhausted, on the floor, the color returning to his face. Now it was Cayden’s turn to face the doctor.
Her cold eyes drilled into his. Pain shot up and down his spine. He was trapped, but he had to take it. Every second Doctor Dimitriou spent tormenting him was a second not spent torturing Jean or any other patient. That, in Cayden’s mind, made enduring the pain worth it.
The two techs entered Cayden’s room and held him down. Panic coursed through his body as Doctor Perfect approached him with a needle in hand while staring deep into his soul. The word “Guilty!” echoed in his ears. The doctor pierced his arm with the syringe and pushed in the plunger. Before Cayden lost consciousness, one thought permeated his whole being: he needed to escape the hospital, or he would die.
When Cayden woke up, the door to the seclusion room was open. A frog with a beard sat in the corridor in front of the room. It leaped down the hallway and out of view. Intrigued, Cayden followed the amphibian. The bearded frog led him to a part of the hospital Cayden had never seen before. There was a big room with a pond in its center. The amphibian jumped into it. Cayden neared the water and looked in but didn’t see any sign of the frog.
“Hello?” he asked, but no one answered, which wasn’t surprising, considering amphibians don’t speak. Somehow, though, Cayden knew this particular frog could talk. Maybe it was because of the beard?
He looked back at the dark corridor from which he had come, then at the pond. The water beckoned him to jump in. For a moment, Cayden considered doing it. Wherever the amphibian had gone, it couldn’t be worse than the hospital. Cayden’s heart raced as he came closer to the water. He could almost hear words: “Come to me.”
Just before his nose touched the surface of the pond, he snapped out of the trance. What was he thinking? His medication had probably worn off, and he was seeing things. He quickly headed for the exit but stopped at the threshold to the hallway. Was he really going to return to his room to live the rest of his life out in this wretched place?
Water splashed everywhere as Cayden’s body hit the pond at a speed only Usain Bolt could match.
The puddle extended farther down than Cayden expected. The deeper he sank, the brighter and bluer the water got, as if he were swimming upward. Without warning, he pierced the surface of the pond on the other end and fell into some clouds.
The wind roared in his ears as he rapidly descended through a golden-white mist. The cold air pushed him into the clouds, making his feet freeze and his breathing come harder. The sun penetrated the haze, blinding him.
Suddenly, he broke through the clouds, and a wonderful new world appeared in front of him. The first thing he saw was the intense blue of the sky around him. The sight and the sensations were so consuming, for a moment he forgot he was falling. The sun was setting in the west; in the east, an impressive mountain massif overlooked a bright green valley like a silent giant. A blue-and-white line crossed the valley, flowing toward the mountain, where it made a sharp turn to the south to avoid the insurmountable obstacle in front of it. To the west, the river passed through a city surrounded by a massive wall, behind which stood a magnificent castle, towering over the whole city. A wide pathway followed the river to the mountain. The valley below Cayden was dotted with purple, red, and yellow spots. The light of the setting sun bathed the landscape in its golden hue. In a way, it was very peaceful. It all felt both incredibly close and astonishingly far.
Falling together with him was the bearded frog, who pointed to the scenery beneath them. The details in the picture below became clearer—small figures running around like ants, grazing animals, children playing in the streets of the city. The rooftops of the houses were approaching him furiously. That was when Cayden remembered he was afraid of heights.
His fall slowed down, and he landed in an alley, miraculously unhurt. The frog thumped in front of him, also unharmed by the fall. It immediately hopped away into another street.
“Wait…!” Cayden shouted after the frog, but it had already disappeared behind a corner.
Confused and disoriented, Cayden fumbled around the pockets of his trousers for any clues to where he was and found a part of a picture. It was an illustration of him and a woman. The woman had fiery hair, blue eyes, and a freckle on her left check, just below her eye. He sensed she was important to him somehow, but he had no idea who she was. On the back side of the picture there was a word written in red ink: “… guilty!” The rest of the message was missing. He put it back in his pocket.
Cayden followed the amphibian, but it had completely vanished. Loud noises were coming from nearby—music, talk, the clinking of glasses. Cayden took a peek around the corner. A crowd of peculiar creatures had gathered on a big street, celebrating something.
As Cayden headed for the festival, the word “GUILTY!” thundered in his ears. His heart beat faster and faster. Panic coursed through his body. He was cold; his hands felt numb, and the world started fading. His legs were weak, so he leaned against the wall behind him.
“Hey! Watch where you’re leaning!” shouted someone, startling him.
Two eyes, protruding from the wall, were looking at him angrily. To the left and to the right, many more eyes were watching him. His skin crawled, and not metaphorically. Dozens of ants were marching up his leg. He shook them off and got out of the alleyway.
All the while, he had the strange feeling that some Presence was following his every move. Maybe it was because of the walls. Yes, that was probably it.
***
Doctor Perfect was sitting on a simple wooden chair in front of the hospital director’s desk. She was dressed in the standard white apron, which looked whiter than usual, her black hair was tied in a tight bun, and her glasses with metal frames were perfectly balanced on her straight nose. Doctor Petrov, the director of Mercy Hospital, suspected she had used a builder’s level to adjust them. She was glaring at him with her icy blue eyes. She wore a dark-red lipstick, the color of which reminded him of blood. With great reluctance, Doctor Petrov had called Persephone Dimitriou in his office to question her about their new patient—Cayden Starosta. The boy showed signs of severe psychosis.
“How is Mister Starosta doing?” asked Doctor Petrov.
“He is still hallucinating,” said Doctor Perfect. “For the safety of the other patients, we put him in a padded cell. We have increased the dosage of Quetiapine, but so far without result.”
Cayden's condition had worsened. Doctor Petrov felt bad, but only partially because of the patient. This woman made the hairs on his neck stand on end. As soon as she had entered the room, the temperature had fallen. There was something very wrong about her.
“Please keep me posted, Doctor Dimitriou. If his condition worsens any more, I want to know right away. Cayden is one of our most important patients.”
Director Petrov had a vested financial interest in the patient’s well-being. Cayden’s family had paid a large sum of money for him to be admitted to and treated at Mercy Hospital. The director’s aunt had also received a transfer to her personal bank account—a little something to make sure Cayden received preferential treatment, Doctor Petrov assumed. Or at least that was what he told himself so he could sleep at night.
“Of course, Doctor Petrov.”
Persephone remained seated. She kept staring at Doctor Petrov. Her face was a perfect human mask, showing no emotion.
“Is there anything else, Doctor Dimitriou?” he asked with fear in his voice.
Beads of sweat rolled down his face. With one hand, he squeezed the armrest of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. His bre
athing came in shallow pants, and his heart beat like a machine gun. The director imagined that she felt his fear just like a snake senses the presence of prey with the sensors in its mouth.
“Cayden’s condition is deteriorating rapidly,” said the woman. “The patient is experiencing delusions which cause him to become extremely aggressive. We need to take special measures.”
His toes curled at the statement. He was sweating more than an Olympic long-distance runner. Doctor Petrov didn’t want much from life—an undemanding office job, a beach holiday every now and again, and a trouble-free existence. All he wanted at this moment was for Doctor Perfect to leave his office.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “We keep him in a rubber cell and have increased the dosage of his medicine. What else can we do?”
“I want to use a new, experimental treatment on him,” replied Persephone.
The use of experimental drugs on patients was strictly forbidden, and even if it hadn’t been, Doctor Petrov was terrified of new and dangerous medications. He didn’t want to take any responsibility for negative outcomes.
“We can’t do that,” he said automatically. The air in the room became even colder, if that was possible. “I can’t let you do that, Doctor Dimitriou. I'm sorry.” His tone was soft, even timid.
Persephone’s gaze could have drilled a hole in his head, right between his eyes. The man frowned. He didn’t need to explain himself. After all, he was the director of the hospital. He was the one making the decisions.
Even he did not believe the last part.
Despite his dread, he tried to return her gaze. As their eyes met, a vast and dark vacuum enveloped him like a cold blanket. The director quickly changed his plans of being courageous and looked down at his empty desk, hoping that if he kept looking down, the woman would leave. Alas, when he looked up, she was still there.
“Doctor Petrov,” she said, “if we don’t do this, we risk the life of the patient. If anything happens to him, it will look very bad for you.”
The director gulped. Indeed, Cayden’s family might decide they didn’t want to keep making their generous contributions to the hospital if something bad happened. He could also be fired from his job.
