(IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE FIRST SNEAK PEEK, CLICK HERE!)
“Jesus, Doc,” he muttered. “Am I going to be alright?”
“You are under the best care in Chicago, and I’ll be making weekly visits to the rehab to ensure your recovery is going as planned. The surgeries sound scarier than they really are, I promise. The brain damage you suffered can be handled. The movement in your arm and hand will resume by the end of the year. You are young. Your body can work miracles, you will see.”
Mitch shifted under the sheets. His back ached from the prolonged time in one position. “How long do you think I’ll need to stay in the hospital – I mean, the rehab facility?”
“Normally, for one skull fracture surgery, you can expect a twelve-week recovery period. However, since you suffered the dual cracks and adding in the time, you’ll need manual movement therapy, it may take you through July or August. That is, of course, provided you don’t have any infections or setbacks from the surgeries.”
Mitch felt his shoulders slump as a huge weight settled upon them. The news hit him hard.
His normal dark thoughts had descended into anger and misery. His life as he knew it was snubbed short and may be permanently altered. He was a prisoner to his body and what it demanded now to rebuild and recoup.
Don’t worry. You’re free now… We have a lot to plan for in the future. New pleasures like you have never had before. That wispy voice spoke in his mind, as if somehow spoken behind him. It had an unusual feeling with it. Like an itch you couldn’t reach, yet not necessarily uncomfortable.
Once you called me vile… I like that. You may address me as Vile. I’m here now.
You are free. And we are unleashed…
****
“That was pretty good. You got to the sixth.” Jo Anne replied. “It’s only been a few days since you arrived. It may be a long road ahead, so you must try to have patience—”
A blue flashing light suddenly came to life overhead near the entrance of their therapy room. “CODE GRAY ROOM 207! REPEAT CODE GRAY ROOM 207!” A female voice declared.
Jo Anne leaped from her metal chair. “I have to assist. Stay here, Mitch, and keep practicing. In ten minutes, you can switch and do those planking exercises I showed you yesterday, okay?” She rambled with distraction and bolted down the hall without waiting for his response.
The other two therapists in the room also left to answer the medical emergency.
Mitch pushed the wooden square away from him in disgust, and then looked about the room. Only four other patients remained, absorbed in their exercises.
He scooted his chair back and stood.
Yes. That’s good. Take it, take this opportunity. He will be alone… Vile’s voice, whispering from within the dark confines of his mind, urged him on.
The image of an elderly black man popped up. Mr. Coranell. Dwight Edwards Coranell. Room 403. Two rooms north of his own.
Two nights ago, Monday, January 28th, Coranell was brought in. The man had been injured in a fall in his grandson’s home. Along with the broken hip, the man suffered from long-term dementia.
At 9:33 PM, every night since his admission, Coranell began an unending tirade of cursing and indecipherable screaming. The medical staff had eventually been forced to sedate him. Quickly, Mitch learned that after three or more hours, the drugs would wear off and the litany of gibberish would play out again.
At 5:47 AM, Mitch demanded earplugs from the staff. He became so irate that he was also threatened with sedation. He stifled his true thoughts as he hated the fuzziness and mind fog that the drugs would bring. Being medicated would only delay his rehabilitation.
Now, as he crept along the hallway toward the stairwell, he grew excited and anxious. His hands became sweaty, and his heart raced with excitement.
Can you do it? Are you hungry enough for this, Mitch?
I am. I am! The old bastard deserves it, he’s got it coming!
Carefully, he poked his head inside the stairwell, scanning the steps leading up to the other floors. They were empty. He snuck through and ascended as fast as he could. His window would be short. Jo Anne and the others would surely be returning, or the nurse on their floor would be at her post.
Yes, it has to be now, Vile continued. You know you won’t have this chance again. Are you going for the blood? You could rub it on your face, maybe even taste it?
NO! I’ll be caught. I can’t. I… I will have to be happy with just the act of silencing him.
But… Vile objected. Its tone was petulant.
If they find me covered in his blood, I’ll never be allowed another opportunity.
The voice went quiet.
He poked his head in through the door to his floor, following his same scouting process.
The room was dark, cold, and had that antiseptic clinic smell choking the air. A pair of monitors loomed over the bed. Wires and sensors were connected to Dwight’s prone form. The man’s heavy breathing rasped in and out, churning like an over-taxed engine. He was sedated and sleeping – oblivious to the world around him.
Mitch stood only a few feet away. His body was rigid. Sweat trickled from his brow and temples. He repeatedly clenched and unclenched his large fists.
Vile tried once more. What do you want to do, Mitch? He’s all yours for the taking.
He did not respond. He remained frozen from the wicked combination of dark needs versus anxious fear. A wrong move or an overlooked detail could result in an investigation leading directly to him.
Mitch was incredibly intelligent and always thorough. In all of his imagined scenarios, he scanned them from every possible angle, every point of view. In his mind, he had all the time in the world to execute his precise plans.
But here, in the murky gloom of the man’s room, he didn’t have time as a luxury. The pressure choked his primal drive. His conflict paralyzed him.
Maybe I can get the pillow, he mused.
You are fucking kidding, right? You want to puss out with a lame smothering? NO! Make an example of him — make his mutation an affront! Throw it in their face! Vile was seething.
“Wh—what?” Mitch gasped.
Show them all this is what you’ll do when they stand in your way! They can’t expect you to accept this bawling lunatic! Rip his face off, put it on the chair by the door. Squeeze his throat till his eyes pop and then open—
ENOUGH! Mitch screamed inside his mind. His hands clamped to the sides of his head. I AM IN CONTROL HERE! I decide when and how. You want blood, but I want more than that… I want more than one old, tattered man who isn’t even awake to scream for me. Vile, you answer to me!
So… hooked yet? Don’t worry! You and Vile can satisfy your bloodlust in October when I officially release ECLIPSE PART I! Then the whole story series will be released in March or April, 2026.
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