A/N: So this was an actual dream of mine, not modified at all. Please review.

From the Night

With a furtive glance over my shoulder, I commenced my lonely trek, my bare feet silent on the musty blue carpet as I padded down the dank, umber-colored hall. As my ears craned the screaming silence, I was able to further observe my surroundings.

Neglect was a phenomenal word to describe this decimated hotel. The walls were wooden, an interesting shade of pulsing mahogany with a tinge of blood beneath the wood. Wooden ionic columns held up the ceiling like remnants of a weary and decrepit Atlas. I took pity upon the lonely columns, left to fend for themselves in such a doomed complex. Invisible gusts of wind made me shudder and clutch my arms to my body. The effort was futile, for I continued to tremble. It was foolish of me to leave my jacket outside the building. The temperature inside was below freezing. It made no sense. I continued down the foreboding hall until I reached the last door on the left. Before reaching the door, I had not seen anything unusual. Yet as I stood outside the door, an ominous red glow emanated from the sides and underneath. Curiosity tugged at the dark recesses of my mind, and as if someone were controlling me, I reached for the elaborate doorknob, open the door, and suddenly, everything darkened. I reached into the cruel darkness and found no aid.

I woke to the drip of something upon my face. Instinctively, I opened my eyes and stared. I saw not the source of the dripping, but I could tell that I was on a gurney of some sort. Perhaps a bed, but a bed that made one ache. The sheets were starchy, crusty, really, and I feared the worst. I only knew that there was a window, for twilight spilled into the otherwise dark room. I was aghast at what I saw with this yielding light.

A tan, burly man sat in a tremulous chair, arms resting upon his thighs so he could better peer at me. The presence of the man was not as alarming as what I noticed—oh, what I noticed!

The eyes are considered windows to the soul, my dear reader, and with good reason. It is through the eyes where a person can judge the content of another’s character. But this tan, burly man’s eyes—his eyes!—revealed nothing. No, his eyes were the most inhuman, no—not even animals could possess such eyes!

He had two dark irises in each terribly white eye. Amidst the dreadful dark were his nearly glowing whites of the eye and two dark irises. The pupils, if the…man…had any, were indiscernible.

Believe me, reader, it is true as I sit, trembling, writing.

I had to look away. My eyes strayed to above the bed, and I saw something that I had not noticed before. Perhaps my eyes did not adjust to that wretched dark when I first awoke, but I realized that hanging above me was a gutted, almost alien-looking creature, so carved and so imperceptible that I feared if it was human. The bloody skin twitched as though writhing in agony, and I jolted. I scrambled off the bed, away from the man, and especially the hanging body. It was then I realized the source of the dripping and I felt a dry heave give way. I backed away from the bed, never removing my eyes from the hanging mass. Abruptly, I realized that its eyes were open, staring; it looked as though someone was halfway through a delicate surgery, for someone had meticulously cut around the dual irises in both eyes. Was there a trick of this haunted room? For I gazed beyond that one body to discover that there were several bodies like this around the room, all of them hanging, drabbed in dirty white. A horrified shriek rose in my raw throat, and I heard the tan man chuckle before I could release the shriek. Another laugh joined the first, and my already overactive nerves stood on end.

The other laugh came from behind me.

From where did this new member emerge? With a deliberately slow turn, I faced the tenor laugher. Despite the horrific situation, forgive me reader; I had to admire this handsome addition. Twirling a knife between his two hands, his lips upturned into a deliberate smile, knowing the soothing effect he had on me. For he was gorgeous, with onyx hair that absorbed light, a beautiful profile fit for a coin face, and a look in his eyes that made the baser part of me want to run.

Instinct told me to run, for I understood who the mysterious dark Adonis was: he was the doctor mutilating all the bodies. From his sudden predatory and lethal advancement, I realized that I was the next victim.

Would begging save my life? Whatever the doctor did to the bodies, I came to the conclusion that no man with a soul could do such heinous things to people. No, the doctor sold his humanity a long time ago, I was sure.

Make it quick, I wanted to plead, but perhaps that would have made the torture more entertaining.

The sadist.

The man in the chair was forgotten until I saw him lick his lips out. I flinched; good Lord, the thing wanted to eat me!

The doctor must have noticed this small action, for he shouted that I was not to be eaten. The man obeyed, not before I saw the hungry look in his dual-irised eyes.

The doctor stepped up to one of the suspended bodies and spun it until the agonized face was tilted towards him. He smiled with satisfaction as the scarlet skin writhed.

He caught my eye and smiled wickedly, holding the head by the cheeks to show me. “Soon, my dearest. Very soon.”

Despite my protest, I suddenly succumbed to an overwhelming urge to sleep and woke in my very own bed.

Now I understand some things, reader:

The doctor knows where I live.

And that is likely him knocking as I finish the testimony to the world of this man’s identity. He represents the evil among our blackest thoughts. The evil within ourselves…