Patience: Chapter 7. Memories

The room was enveloped in a pitch black silence when Mike awoke. He couldn't see anything, and his arms had fallen numb. He didn't feel worried, in fact, he didn't feel much of anything. He sat up with a little effort since his arms weren't working well at the moment. He rested his head on what felt like the side of a couch. Cushioned but not strictly comfortable. He sat there for a time, waiting for some unavoidable horror or misfortune to befall him. He waited for the lifeless eyes and musicbox.

The silence was broken by a harsh grinding metal sound of a hinge in desperate need of oil, and a sudden beam of light that did well to blind Mike's maladjusted eyes. Squinting through the oppressive light, a thin figure sat in the doorway.

"Mr. Schmidt."

The voice sounded feminine. And tired.

"Follow me please."

No attempts were made to help Mike to his feet, and the form hadn't moved from the doorway. He was simply expected to comply without question. Looking down, he realized why. He was in a straight jacket. It explained the lost feeling in his arms at least. It was a small comfort to know he wasn't reliving the numbing experience of the first nightmare.

Minutes passed with Mike simply staring at the dark form outlined in the light of the room's exterior. If it had grown impatient or angry in that time, it wasn't showing any signs of it. Looking down at himself, there was nothing better for him to do here. He looked back up at the shape before pushing himself against the corner to struggle to his feet. His legs felt weak. Each step was a perilous gambit that nearly had him collapsing onto the floor. He settled to lean against the wall and make his way over to the shape slowly.

Upon nearing the door, the shape left the door-frame and moved into the bright hallway. Following her out, Mike was met with rows of similarly heavy doors down a huge corridor of white, unremarkable corridor. In front of him was a thin looking woman in a dirty nurse's uniform that looked better suited to the 1700's. Her hair grey-streaked brown hair was tidy and tied into a bun. Her face had the beginning marks of age and stress. Although he could see her with intimate detail, he couldn't quite make out what her face looked like. It was as though a shadow was over her face, purposefully obscuring it from view.

"I will escort you to our appointment."

Not an offer it seemed, not that Mike had any objections. The woman wheeled around a wheelchair and bid Mike to sit down. A welcome sight, Mike shambled over and managed to fall mostly into it. After some assistance to reposition him into place, the nurse secured Mike to the chair with four leather straps: ankles, knees, waist, and chest. For better or worse, he was in for the ride. A ride sounded nice...why was he so tired?

The woman moved behind him and began pushing him down the corridor with a gentle clack of the wheels. The journey was a short-lived one. A few minutes of quiet walking, and the pair turned into a small lounge. Dimly-lit, but tidy. Featureless with bland white-walls, and curtain railings that systematically separated the left side of the room. There were a few other disheveled looking people going about their business, but a privacy curtain was pulled around Mike before he could spare them more than a passing glance. The woman pulled a clipboard from the back of Mike's chair before sitting down at the chair opposite of him. Mike did his best to maintain eye-contact, but he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Do you remember, Mr.Schmidt? Do you remember why you're here?"

Mike looked up with tired eyes. The incredulous notion of it all was almost enough for him to care again. Almost. Everything was so far gone, that nothing felt important anymore. He could bare remember why he woke up, let alone why he was here.

"Having trouble finding your words again Mr. Schmidt?"

Mike let out a sigh and let his eyes wander down to the floor. He felt like he needed to yawn, but couldn't muster the gumption to see even that through right now. Still, he spoke with a voice as raspy as charred gravel.

"Yeah...but uhh...no. ...No I...don't.  ...Don't remember..."

The woman seemed to write things down with every sluggish syllable that managed to fall out of Mike's mouth.

"That's okay. Plenty of people forget things from time-to-time."

The woman said in a plain tone as she danced around the issue. She didn't even look up from her clipboard, she just pushed on.

"And how are you feeling today?"

"Tired."

The response was immediate. The nurse hadn't even finished speaking by the time Mike'd spoken up. She seemed to note this as she wrote furiously for a few seconds before loosening back up.

"We're all a little worn down around here Mr. Schmidt."

Still not looking up from her clipboard, the nurse continued writing incessantly as Mike watched.

"So...?"

Looking up for a split second, the obscured face looked at Mike's lethargic eyes as he spoke. The writing continued.

"'So' what, Mr. Schmidt?"

"Are...Are you gonna? Tell...me."

"Tell you what Mr. Schmidt?"

Having apparently gathered her attention, the nurse put the pencil and clipboard down on her lap and folded her hands neatly atop of it.

"Why...I'm...here...?"

"I can't. I don't know why you're here. We've been at this for a very long time Mr. Schmidt."

As if on cue, the woman pulled a stack of papers from her clipboard that had been sitting underneath the one she was writing on. Holding one up between her thumb and index finger, Mike recognized these things. Inkblots, a Rorschach test. They seemed vividly familiar, and invoked memories he hadn't thought about until he'd seen the paper. Like they didn't exist until she had reminded him of them.

"I'm going to show you each of these, please tell me in depth what you see in them."

Without pause or confirmation, the nurse held up a withered blotch, and waited for Mike's response. Squinting at it, Mike noticed the ink began to move. It was like he was watching a movie. A movie he knew the intricate details to, and didn't want to spoil it by saying what was going to happen before it happened.

"It's...it's a man...me. I'm covered...in their...their weakness... the magnets...to...to fight them off. ...I...I beat the nightmares...I beat them into...submission..."

"Yes, that's what you've said that before."

Cutting the show short, the nurse let the picture fall to the floor and pulled out a second piece of parchment and continued to sit patiently. The words 'before' bothered Mike more than they should have, but he was too interested in the new picture to spare any concern for it. His eyes grew a little bleary from tears, but his face was contorting. Smiling is what he used to call it, hard to remember something like that when it's been so long since it was last used, but he was actually smiling. Some of the fatigue began to lift too.

"It's...it's the same man. But...He found...friends. The nightmares. The nightmares changed...and now he's...he's living with them. He's happy, and things are okay."

"Yes. Do you remember now?"

Mike despaired a little as the second picture fell to the floor. She held up another picture, and with it, new memories.

"Each one of these pictures you've drawn, Mr. Schmidt, you've attached some kind of world to escape to. Tragedies, comedies, pornographic materials, and everything in between. Everything."

Picture after picture fell to the floor, each one eliciting it's own line of conflicting memories before the next one came to replace it. The nurse's hands continued to cycle through the pictures before tossing them into the pile on the ground.

"You've tried to escape into these stories for a very long time Mr. Schmidt. But now I'd like you to wake up, focus on what I'm saying to you. I can't force you to see what you don't want to, we both know that's never worked. But I won't give up on you. I'll keep trying to reach you Mr. Schmidt, because it's what I do."

The woman stood up and set the clipboard onto the chair before kneeling down closer to Mike. When her face finally came into view, Mike found the woman's face was in a sad sort of disarray. She had been wearing a vibrant purple eyeliner that had bled messily down her cheeks, a stark contrast to thin line of pale red lipstick that sat on her lips, still pristine and tidy like the rest of her person.

Mike knew this face.

"I take care of our little family."

The woman said with tired sympathy as she put a hand on the side of Mike's face, she looked at him with a deep sorrow behind her eyes. Mike did his best to raise a finger at her with his subdued arms.

"You...! You're...from..."

Apparently disregarding Mike's comment, the nurse dropped her hand and turned around to pick up her clipboard. Looking it over again she remained standing there for a time with her back turned to Mike.

"You're...that...that thing...the...the nightmare?"

"I help those who were left to rot in this place. I give the lost a second chance."

Turning around, the nurse held the clipboard up to Mike and watched for his reaction with her pale white eyes. Mike finally snapped out of his stupor and began struggling to break out of his restraints as the picture stared back at him. A green animatronic, custom tailored to his apparent height, weight, and 'emotional state'. The nurse drew closer and replaced the clipboard to its original resting place on the back of the wheelchair. Moving to his side, the nurse's hands wrapped around Mike's neck and dug its nails into his flesh. In a bittersweet voice, the nurse whispered into mike's ear.

"Mike... W O U L D N ' T  Y O U  L I K E  A  S E C O N D  C H A N C E?"

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The eyes opened, but the mind remained in a catatonic state. Stewing in hysteria, it did all that it could to manage the situation. Which, of course, included blocking out of the dream's influence. It wasn't until the final waves of torment were locked down, and buried deep within Mike's subconscious, that Mike began to regain some of his situational awareness. A new night, a new trial. No questions, only looking around and assessing the situation for what tools were at his disposal, and what threat was opposing him.

That's all there was in that security room now. A husk with tools and enemies. A win condition and a lose condition: Joy and fear respectively. Every other emotion was just a weight, a distraction. The optimal security guard with nothing but the fear of failure to motivate him. More mechanical in his nature than a man anymore...

The place was rundown, more so than usual. Grime and mold caked the walls, loose wires hung freely about the place, and a box of animatronic heads sat in the corner of the office. Still, the only true problem that cropped up was how weak and grainy the camera was. Just looking the layout over, the place was small, but deceptively so. The venting system was much more complex than previous areas. There was no door this time, but only one entrance. There was also an audio system in play. The phone had long since rang and played it's message, shift had started.

Flipping reflexively through the channels, Mike poured over the static-ridden frames. Many constructs and fixtures, but none of the actual band members were here aside from the pictures. Instead there was a new face; a withered, yellow-ish rabbit starring through the monitor with it's lip-less smile frozen in place. Couldn't move so long as Mike kept his eyes trained on him, those were the rules. The downside of a single nightmare.

But there was another sound coming from within the halls, Mike lowered the monitor in time to see a silhouette duck from behind the window in front of him. Was there more than one inside? He hadn't found anything else during his first sweep of the grounds... he would have to re-check. He flipped the monitor out to find the first one missing. A laugh echoed out of the speakers at Mike's touch, and after a brief wave of static, it had returned to it's place in the room. He had found the night's gimmick.

His revelation was cut short by the hand of a heavily damaged Freddy animatronic pushed it to the side, the smell of smoke was suffocating. Leaping at Mike with a high-pitch screech, Mike didn't cry out. He closed his eyes, and raised an arm to protect his face. He gritted his teeth for a blow that never came. And when Mike finally reopened his eyes, he found that the nightmare had gone, and left wailing sirens in it's wake. The intrusions had brought ventilation and cameras offline. His heavy, ragged breathing could be heard over the sirens, but he didn't give a thought about himself, he had to get the cameras back online.

After a short recovery period, the feed was restored. The ventilation could wait, he wouldn't need to breathe easy if he was caught in here anyway. A telltale tumbling sound tipped Mike off to check the vents. Cam 14, right side vents. Sealing it closed, Mike returned to the regular feeds to search for the bear he'd seen. He didn't have to look long before something was found, sadly, it found him too. The scorched mask of last night's nightmare, the puppet, looked back at him. He switched again to find if the golden rabbit was still in the vents, but he'd stared into it's eyes for too long. He knew he'd watched it for too long, because a familiar, gentle yet firm, grip had placed itself upon his arm.

Pushing the monitor down, the scorched mask of the puppet greeted Mike. Not with violence or a scream, but with a simple glare. A glare Mike returned as the two scanned each-other's face. Two beings staring at the other through their lifeless eyes in silence. The world faded to black, and when it returned, the puppet had gone. All systems were offline. Not that that mattered at the moment.

There was a yellow rabbit standing in the doorway.

Mike didn't even move. He sat there watching as the thing moved inside with a loud, hissing screech. There was nothing left to fear. He would die or he wouldn't. It didn't matter anymore. He knew he would just start again and begin another shift after this one. He had finally managed to follow Sal's advice. He was numb. This place couldn't hurt you if you were already numb.

"h e y...l a d..."

The voice from the creature was severely damaged and wheezed with mechanical influence, but...that voice. This was what remained of Mike's 'last lifeline'. The robot stopped just inches away from Mike's face, letting him see, with intricate detail, the rotting flesh intertwined with the endoskeleton that was hiding behind the ruined suit. There wasn't much left of it anymore, but it was being held together by the crossbeams and wires.

"No..."

Mike stood up slowly as the machine's joints whirred to watch him do so.

"...What the fuck happened to you?!"

"b r o k e...r u l e s."

As he spoke, the wires from the ceiling sparked viciously as the ground quaked. The power ran out and the room went dark. After another spark of electricity, a dim light erupted in-front of Mike. The haunting form of the yellow rabbit in-front of him was now ablaze. Looking at it's burning hands with disinterest, the remainders of Sal looked at Mike through it's rapidly deteriorating eyes.

"f i n d...t h e...t r u t h...E S C A P E...L I V E."

Faltering as the last bits of humanity fell out of his voice, the robot turned around and set a burning claw onto the the wall, spreading the flames as it did so. It continued around the corner, dragging it's burning self down the hallways and spreading the flames down the corridors.

"S O R R Y...LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaa..."

With a loud metallic crash, the robot fell forward and was quickly consumed by the fires. Taking the hint, Mike stood up for the first time since he'd awoken in this office. The key ring was still at his waist, and the fires were licking at his heels as he rushed out the doorway to the escape. He fumbled with the keys as his clothes began to smolder and his lungs cried for mercy. When, or if, he made it out was of little difference, the trial would restart either way, but there was a discrepancy now. A power vacuum. And when the trial was over, one way or the other, Mike was approached with a new opportunity.

An opening in upper-management was available...