Scene 26
Time: 4:20 PM
Gwen sat on the edge of her narrow bed, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. The handcuffs had been removed an hour ago—maybe two? Time felt slippery here, impossible to track without windows or clocks just the hum of the ventilation and the occasional muffled shout from somewhere far down the corridor.
She hadn't moved since the guards dumped her here after the cafeteria.
Her nose had stopped bleeding, but the copper taste lingered on her tongue. Her cheekbone throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
The room was identical to every other patient room in block-A: white walls, white tile floor, a single bed with thin gray sheets, a small metal desk bolted to the wall, a chair. A door in the corner led to a bathroom barely large enough to turn around in. A pleasant change compared to the other loops.
Gwen's mind raced, looping through the same images over and over:
Jacob's hand, crushed beneath Seth's boot.
Seth's hollow eyes, carved out from the inside.
The piss eyed monster next to Matthew. Just… watching.
Matthew not doing anything.
"A complete disaster…"
She pressed her forehead to her knees and tried to breathe through the panic that kept rising like bile.
The door lock clicked.
Gwen's head snapped up, her breath catching.
The door swung open.
Glenn stepped inside, turning to mutter something over his shoulder—"Thank you. I promise to return to my room after here"—before the door shut behind him with a soft thud.
Relief flooded through her so suddenly, so completely, that her legs almost gave out. She launched herself off the bed and crossed the small room in two steps, throwing her arms around him.
"Glenn…"
Her voice broke. She buried her face against his shoulder, her hands gripping the fabric of his gray uniform like a lifeline.
"I thought—I thought you weren't going to wake up. I thought…"
Glenn's arms came up slowly, wrapping around her back. His grip was firm. Steady.
"I'm okay," he said softly.
His voice was calm. Reassuring.
"What about you, are you okay?" he asked, his hands moving to her arms, gripping them gently. "What happened, heard you got in a fight?"
Gwen swallowed hard. "I... yeah, with Seth. His back, kneed him in the balls and hit him with a tray. He… he beat up Jacob. Bad. And Matthew—"
"Christ, Gwen." Glenn interrupted, pulling away from her. "You could have gotten grounded or worse."
"Yeah well clearly i didn't," Gwen said quickly, frowning deeply. "What about you? What the hell even happen?"
"I was unconscious," he said, his tone flat, matter-of-fact. "I woke up in my room. They told me you were here. So I came."
"But you were out for hours." Gwen's voice rose slightly, urgency creeping in. "Did you see anything? The clock? Blood? Or the… you know?"
Glenn's head tilted slightly to the side, like a bird examining something curious.
"Theee?"
"The entity! With its piss colored eyes," Gwen said, her breath quickening. "It was in the cafeteria. Next to Matthew. Just watching, Glenn. It smiled. When the fight happened, Matthew—"
"Wait—wait, hold on, Matthew? Christ, slow down abit. I'm struggling to keep up with what you saying," Glenn said.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
Gwen's hands dropped from his shoulders. She took a step back.
"What?"
"I didn't see this… piss eyed entity, Gwen," Glenn said, his expression unchanging. "I was unconscious. I woke up. And now I'm here."
Gwen stared at him, her pulse quickening.
Something's wrong.
This isn't right.
"Glenn," she said slowly, her voice tight. "What happened when you were conscious?"
Glenn's eyes locked onto hers. He didn't blink.
"Nothing," he said. "Nothing happened, Gwen."
A chill crawled up Gwen's spine.
"You're lying."
Glenn's lips curved into a small smile.
It wasn't his smile.
It was too wide. Too sharp.
"Am I?" he asked softly. "Stupid question—I mean, ofcourse you'd know I'm lying."
Gwen took another step back, her shoulders hitting the wall.
"What happened to you?" she whispered.
"Ah, What. Happened," Glenn took a step forward. Then another. His movements were smooth, deliberate, "I'll tell you…"
"I saw Anthony being eaten." he said, his voice still calm, still flat. "In his childhood bedroom. His chest ripped open. Ribs jutting out like broken fingers…"
Gwen's breath caught.
"…and the piss colored eyed entity," Glenn continued, his smile widening, "It's teeth going right through his muscle. Bones crunching. Pulling his organs out one by one. Intestines. Liver. Heart."
He took another step closer.
"And do you know what I wanted to do after that, Gwen?"
Gwen's hands pressed flat against the wall behind her. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
"What?" she whispered.
Glenn's eyes gleamed.
"Eat my second meal."
Gwen's stomach lurched as the room went cold.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"You're not Glenn."
The lights flickered once—hard.
The room plunged into complete, suffocating darkness.
Gwen gasped, her hands flying out in front of her, searching blindly.
In the black, his voice came again—deeper, rougher, not of his own—layered with another, like two people speaking out of sync, the other voice, something old and hoarse.
"No… I'm not."
The lights flickered back on.
Glenn was gone.
In his place crouched something horrific.
Its body was massive hunched over on all fours, filling the room. Its limbs were elongated, twisted, the joints bending at wrong angles. Its spine pressed against gray-green skin, each vertebra sharp and distinct like knuckles beneath wet canvas.
Its head was Glenn's face.
But stretched. Distorted. The jaw unhinged, hanging open impossibly wide—wide enough to engulf her entire head. Rows of teeth, too many teeth, gleamed wetly in the fluorescent light.
And its eyes.
Its pupils glowed faintly, a sickly yellowish-white, burning with terrible focus.
It roared.
The sound was deafening, primal, a guttural bellow that shook the walls and rattled Gwen's bones. Spit flew from its mouth, hot and thick, splattering across her face, her neck, her arms.
Gwen couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't scream.
Her body locked up completely, every muscle rigid with terror. She stood frozen against the wall, trembling violently, her eyes wide and unseeing.
"This is real."
"Too real."
"This is…"
She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath coming in shallow, strangled gasps.
"Not real. Not real. Not real. Not…"
The roar stopped.
The door opened.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
A voice. Male. Calm.
"Gwen."
She didn't open her eyes.
"Gwendolyn Keene."
The voice was closer now. Softer.
Gwen's chest heaved. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
"Gwen, open your eyes."
She shook her head violently, pressing herself harder against the wall.
"Gwen."
A hand touched her shoulder.
Gentle. Warm.
Not clawed. Not monstrous.
Human.
Gwen's eyes snapped open.
Dr. Sawyer stood in front of her, his expression calm, his eyes studying her with quiet intensity. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder, his touch grounding, almost paternal.
Gwen's head whipped around, her eyes scanning the room wildly.
No monster.
No Glenn.
No golden eyes.
Just her. And Dr. Sawyer.
The room was normal. White walls. White floor. The bed. The bathroom door.
Everything exactly as it had been.
"Where…" Her voice cracked. She looked back at Dr. Sawyer, her eyes wide with confusion and terror. "Where is it? Where did it…"
Dr. Sawyer didn't answer. He stepped closer, his hand moving from her shoulder to her chin, tilting her head gently to the right.
His eyes narrowed.
There, just below her jawline, faint silver-blue lines branched across her skin like frost on glass.
Sawyer exhaled through his nose, a long, slow breath.
His expression changed—something between recognition and resignation.
He released her chin and took a step back, his hands clasping behind his back.
"Follow me, Ms. Keene," he said quietly.
Gwen stared at him, her breath still coming in ragged gasps. Her hands trembled at her sides.
"What?" she whispered.
Dr. Sawyer's eyes met hers. Calm. Cold. Unreadable.
"Follow me," he repeated, his voice firmer now. "We need to talk."
He turned toward the door.
Gwen stayed where she was for one heartbeat longer.
Then, trembling, she pushed off the wall. Her mind was still reeling, still trying to process what she'd just seen—what she'd just felt.
And followed him into the corridor.
The door clicked shut behind them.