Hidden Evil

Bradley

It's been one week since that night. The sound of Max's snapping neck haunts my nightmares. Even though it may seem I'm doing okay, I'm not. I've had night terrors in addition to haunting nightmares. The only thing that brings me comfort is knowing that Braxy is alive. Braxton has been in a psychiatric hospital and has shown signs of getting better soon. Since I'm homeschooled, I'm able to visit Braxton every day. He doesn't talk much at all anymore. When he does, it's when he's having an episode. When he has one of his episodes, it can get scary. He'll scream, cry, and say things as if pleading for his life. His parents told me his doctors diagnosed him with a list of items after that night: schizophrenia, depression, panic disorder, and mood disorder. Today will be the first day I visit Braxton without his parents present. I walked through the hospital doors and up to the front desk. The receptionist looked up at me.

"Hi, can I help you," she asked.

"Hi, I'm here to visit my friend Braxton. Braxton McMann."

The receptionist nodded and typed on her computer for a moment before getting up.

"One moment, please," she said.

The receptionist returned with Braxton's doctor, Dr. Wicker, a few moments later. I'd seen him with Braxton's parents, but I never got to introduce myself to the man. We shook hands and quickly introduced ourselves before walking to Braxton's room on the third floor. When we reached Braxton's room, Dr. Wicker turned to me.

"Now," he began, "Braxton is in a very fragile state. He's barely spoken to us since he was first brought in. He only speaks to himself, but his words are all mumbled together. He won't even speak to his parents when they come to visit. Maybe you can get him to say something."

"I'll try," I said before the doctor nodded and opened the door.

I walked in and saw Braxton in the corner of his room. He was curled up and blankly staring at his hands as he played with them. I walked to him and bent down. I slowly and gently touched his hand, but he didn't notice me.

"Braxton," I said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes.

Braxton paused and slowly looked up at me. Once filled with so much joy, his brown eyes now looked lifeless. He reached over and touched my face. He stopped a few moments later, and his eyes filled with tears.

"You're real," he said before softly smiling at me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and his smile faded before I could say anything.

"Gah," he painfully said as he covered his ears, "you're not real!"

I tried to step closer to him to comfort him, but he let out the most gut-wrenching scream I'd ever heard. His hands moved from his ears to his hair as he pulled on it. I stood there in shock, not noticing the door opening.

Seeing Dr. Wicker out of the corner of my eye snapped me out of my daze as I stepped back to give him and the two nurses that came in with him some room. Dr. Wicker got behind Braxton and removed his hands from his hair. As the doctor did this, Braxton let out another blood-curdling scream. After struggling with him for a while, Dr. Wicker was finally able to wrap his arms around Braxton. Braxton's head was to the side, exposing the side of his neck. I watched as a nurse prepared to sedate Braxton but suddenly, he broke out of Dr. Wicker's grasp and bolted toward me. He wrapped his arms around me as he slammed into my chest, the force bringing us to the ground. Dr. Wicker and the two nurses lifted Braxton off of me. This sent him into a rage, and he began to scream and thrash his limbs. As I watched the three medical workers place him on the bed and hold him down, he looked at me pleadingly as the nurse tried to sedate him for a second time.

"Hey," I yelled, causing everyone to freeze, "let him go."

"Bradley," Dr. Wicker sighed at me, "he needs to be sedated right now, or else he won't calm do-"

"I don't give a s**t," I cursed at the doctor, "he's terrified. Let. Him. Go."

Dr. Wicker sighed as he and the nurses released my friend. Instantly, Braxton got up and ran towards me again. Once again, he slammed into my chest, clinging tightly to me. He began to sob openly. I sat the both of us down, and Braxton curled into my arms. I started rocking my broken friend. The doctor and the nurses had left, leaving us alone.

"Bradley," I heard Braxton say.

I looked down to respond to him, but he mumbled to himself as Dr.Wicker said. Moments later, I noticed Braxton falling asleep. I slowly stood up with him and gently guided him to his bed. I got him comfortable and stayed with him for ten minutes until he was fully asleep. I brushed my thumb against his cheek as one final tear slid down it. I smiled at my sleeping friend before leaving the hospital. On my way home, I stopped by the cemetery to visit Max. I sat and talked with him for a while before heading home. I saw the house as I walked, and rage filled me. That was the house that did all this.

Then it hit me; I should investigate everything about that house. I want to know why the house killed Max. I want to see why we were attacked. As these thoughts raced through my head, I picked up a rock and angrily threw it at the house. The rock smashed a window, but I didn't care. I continued my walk home, thinking about everything. When I got home, I went to my room and plopped onto my bed. My eyes soon shut as they grew heavy. My dreams were plagued by the usual nightmare that began with the awful familiar sound of Max's neck breaking.