Free Transcription by Ike Hamill Page A

dragged it down. He tied the end of the cord around the old man’s ankle and used it to haul him upside down. Thick blood flowed down the corpse and mingled with the other fluids already soaking into the mattress. Ron left the man hanging there and moved on to the next room.
    The thing that possessed Ron’s body moved with brutal efficiency from room to room. He killed each resident within a minute of invading their space, but he took no care to otherwise diminish their suffering. Meanwhile, the real Ron—my friend—was trapped inside his body, witnessing the events with all the horror one would expect. I know the pain and guilt he experienced.  
    He was leaving the room of his sixth victim when the nurse came upon Ron. She screamed at his bloody visage and her shocked arms sent flying the tray of pills she carried. Ron smiled at her.
    Behind his smiling face, the real Ron gained control of himself for a moment. He smashed his fist through the glass panel of a machine in the hall. The pill-nurse fell to her knees. The other nurse rounded the counter and began to run towards them. Ron pulled a shard of glass from the display and sliced both of his wrists. He made jagged gashes from his hands down to his elbows, opening the blood vessels wide.
    As Ron’s own blood began to flow, he lost control of himself again.
    He retrieved the tire iron, and raised it over his head. He brought it down again, sweeping through the nurse’s raised hands and connecting with her cheek. The other nurse skidded to a stop, reevaluating her desire to help her co-worker. She pedaled her shoes on the polished tile and tried to gain momentum away from Ron and the other nurse. She began to scream.
    At the front desk, the orderly put down his newspaper and stood.
    Ron killed two more people before his body finally lost enough blood to bring it down. He finished the nurse and another old woman. His tire iron was stuck in the nurse’s throat, so he killed his final victim with the scratched oxygen tank that sat at the side of her bed.
    When he turned to leave that room, his heart had a spasm. There wasn’t enough blood in its chambers to pump. It cramped around the empty space and began to twitch in his chest. Ron didn’t make it far after that. He collapsed in the doorway as the second nurse and orderly arrived. The next few minutes were filled with grisly discoveries for the pair. The nurse ran for the phone and couldn’t get the dial to roll around to the zero, to connect her to the operator. She had to try several times before her shaking hand could manage the task. The orderly made inventory of the dead and then simply stood. There was nobody who could be helped, and he didn’t want to touch any of the evidence. He shivered as he stood in the middle of the hall. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he waited. The nurse stayed in her seat by the phone.  
    Firemen and police arrived in minutes.
    They couldn’t coax a word from the survivors for several hours.
    I didn’t need to read the article in the newspaper, or see the police photos, to understand what happened in that old folk’s home. The details of the account met me with great sadness, but no surprise.
    When I allow myself to think of what happened to Ron, I’m hollowed out by the sadness of it. You’re the reason I carry on. I’m continuing this terrible duty because I need to see you through your childhood the best I can. Sometimes I think you’d be better off if I were to disappear. You might at least have the chance of cobbling together some kind of normal life with foster parents. But I can’t take the chance that you’ll wind up with your great uncle. Lyndon is a terrible man, who will lash out at you with his words when his fists can’t reach you.  
    My only solace is that I can still be a father to you during the day. Hopefully, I’m hiding my misery from you. Of all the terrible things I’ve done and witnessed, ruining your life would be the thing I regretted the most.