The Slender Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

The doctor
leads us down the care ward that almost looks no different from the public
areas except for the fact that these floors were tiled linoleum instead of
carpeted. She leads us around several turns until we get to the recovery ward.
We're taken to a room with four beds. Two of them have curtains pulled to hide
the patient inside.
    “Adam is over here,” says the doctor, pulling the curtain on
the bed closest to the door.
    I almost can't believe my eyes. There lies my brother Adam,
who I had inspected this morning before his trip, not four hours ago. He was
happy and grumpy, and ready to go have fun. Now he barely looks alive. If not
for the oxygen mask on his face, I would doubt he's even breathing. I walk over
and reach for his hand. His left arm is in a cast, and this one has an IV
attached to it. His hand feels cold in mine. I sit on the edge of the bed. I
lean in and kiss him on the forehead. As I do I can see a tear splash onto his
face and I wipe my eyes against my sleeve. I stroke his face with my hand
gently, and quietly, almost whisper the first couple lines of Adon Olam, his
favorite hymn. I sing it slowly and out of melody, hoping he can still hear me.
While doing so I can feel more tears coming and move my face away to keep them
from falling on him.
    I look behind me and see my parents and grandmother keeping
their distance, waiting their turn. I get off the bed and let them approach. I
slink back into a nearby chair and watch them. My grandmother joins me, but we
don't say a word. Mom sits on the bed next to him, where I was, and Dad leans
against the wall. Nurses walk into the room occasionally to check on Adam, and
the other patient, who I bet is Mr. Mario.
    Soon the relief of seeing Adam still alive fades and I begin
to worry about Shana. Is she still outside? I look for a clock, and since I
don't see one, I pull out my phone. It's one in the afternoon. Have we really
been here that long?. There's no way they waited this long for us after hearing
the news about their daughter. I may not have lost Adam, but I've lost Denise.
That loss is even greater for Shana, but I feel that she needs some time alone
right now. I see how badly Jason Larch is taking it, and he’s taking it out on
the people around him, so I can only imagine how terrible Shana must feel,
leaving those emotions inside, and they are just two of the families that lost
children in that crash.
    I slouch back into the chair, not wanting to get up. I close
my eyes. How could something like this happen? So many children dying at
once and all from a small community like Murphy, where almost every resident
has personally met at least one of the deceased children. I hear the sound of
wind rushing, and open my eyes.
     I’m still in the hospital chair, but I can’t move. My brain
tells my body to move, but I only get a nudge in response. My body is tingling
all over, like static is passing through me. Did I doze off? This must be a
dream . I try to look around as best as I can with my limited mobility.
The room is significantly darker. I close my eyes again, but the wind gets
louder, and is accompanied by the sound of screeching static. It matches the
stiffness in my body. It’s like the static is howling, and it gets louder as my
eyes close. What’s going on? Is this a nightmare? I realize that
the howling static seems to be coming from my right and I move my eyes in that
direction.
    Then I see it. Just out of the corner of my eye stands a
dark figure, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s shadowy, and its movements are
violent and jagged, like static, but I can only see it through my peripheral
vision. Why couldn’t this happen with my face turned to the right? I
realize that it’s standing over Adam’s bed, and I open my mouth to say
something, but nothing comes out but wind, nothing but an exhale. I try harder,
but still nothing. I keep trying, watching the blackness. I start trying to
yell, and then I scream, and although I fail in