Marc Of Marc 's Couch

“After that whisky, which was WAY too hot for you, I imagine,” Brady chuckled a bit, ”You started to chug a bunch of tap water, and less than a minute later, you fell to the ground, rattling faster than a rattlesnake. It would have been funny, if you weren’t almost dying,” I summarized. “There is something else I need to tell you about, but you won’t like it.”

He lay in his bed with his beating heart. “No,” he said. “They’ve broken into the nursery.” “Those screams - they sound

He struggled to find comfort for his back, and couldn’t help wincing. He heaved a sigh of agony and placed his head on the pillow, lied on his back, rather uncomfortably, closed his beady eyes and speechlessly waited for that moment to arrive. Heavy footsteps ware approaching. Their shoes clap rhythmically on the floor.

“But I was.” Derek replied. “I just,” he looked around the room remembering his condition. “Never mind its nothing.” The overworked, annoyed nurse stormed out. Derek’s eyes teared up as he remembered how things used to be, which now seemed like a lifetime

“Oh right, forgot about that,” and just like that Brennan clicked his phone back into sleep mode. Now to get back to his grand campaign in his game. David was a good friend and he had been since middle school, but he had the habit of bothering him sometimes. They were exact opposites in personality. David was all outgoing and didn’t really keep to himself, while Brennan had been the very definition of an introvert. Nothing you could do about though. Brennan went back to his game, but for some reason the palms of his hand had begun to get all sweaty. He didn’t know why, but he started feeling dizzy too. He ignored it and continued to

Claire’s was the first face I saw. Covered in tears, she clutched her mouth with her trembling hand. Next I directed my gaze towards my father, his arms firmly wrapped around my distraught mother. He held her as if he was afraid he would lose her next. The panic on their faces sent my head even further into a spiral. My vision blurred as I fell down a rabbit hole of fear and emotion. Disoriented, I stumbled over my

“I’m sorry to ask this again Ms.Fink, but could you please restate what happened the night of the murders?” I knew what they were doing. It didn’t take a mastermind to figure out that they are trying to pin the murders on me, anyone who had ever watched a crime show in their life would have caught on. “I got home from work, my mom was cooking in the kitchen, my dad was watching football in the living room, and my sister and brother were wrestling down the stairs. I hopped into the shower and began to sing, just as I always do. The yelling and screaming grew louder, but I just figured that mom and dad were fighting again. After I finished showering, to my disbelief my sister was lying dead, surrounded by her own blood, on the floor. A few steps and there was my brother, also dead. By then time had

Jolted awake by the light shining directly in her face, Casey opened her eyes to find Ray leaning on one elbow staring at her as she slept. Twisting his wrist, she checked the time on his watch. “We’re late. Why didn’t you wake me?”

Cole.” Still in a foggy daze, she shot upright “What’s wrong?” A gray-haired doctor stood in front of her, “Nothing is wrong, I wanted to let you know that your student, Cassandra, is finally awake. The tranquilizer dosage, plus the...events of last night really did a number on all of them.” Cleo looked at the door and then to Thomas “How is he?” The doctor shuffled a little from under his skin “He is stable. In fact, he’s normal: brain waves, heartbeat, respiration, all normal. In theory, he should be running laps around me...” Cleo looked at him, she knew there was more he wasn’t telling her “Then, why is he still asleep?” The doctor took a breath and lowered his clipboard to his side “He’s not sleeping, he’s in a coma. It isn’t uncommon in traumatic scenarios for something like this to happen, but it makes their recovery time unpredictable.” She raised her hand to her mouth and stared back to her husband “You don’t know when he’ll wake up?” The doctor lowered himself slightly “To be honest, with as much as I know about psychic induced coma... I couldn’t say if he will wake up. Let alone when.” Cleo grabbed the corner of the bed to steady herself “Is there anything I can do?” He shook his head “It’s just a waiting game. If you really want to help, the best you can do is visit him, talk to him. Just let him hear your voice, talk about your day and let him know that you’re thinking about him....that you want him to wake

I’ve decided to finish telling about how I got sick, After all there is nothing else for me to do while I am stuck here. When I got home my mother was surprised to see me. And of course she was mad and I had to hear the “young man I am very disappointed in you, you’re better than this talk” Even though was barely listening my dad lectured me on and on about how they paid good money for me to attend Pency Prep, it’s not like I didn’t care but I didn’t really care and eventually I got up and went to my room. They were really stressing me out and I was depressed again so I sat down and I began to talk to Allie, because that’s what I do when I’m depressed. It comforts me and takes me back to a time when everything was ok. “Okay now, go home and get your bike and meet me out front of Bobby’s house. Hurry up.”

“Y… You don’t have parents, huh?” He asked, then sighed, and opened his door fully, stepping back to let Simon inside. “Ugh, just come in.” He rolled his eyes, before providing a reassuring smile to the short boy. “You can stay.” He finished, waiting for Simon. Simon smiled, and stepped in, handing the man some

Hazel eyes went wide in surprise to hear the particulars of the killing that the newspapers had failed to divulge. Jack had taken his time it seemed. He had plucked out her eyes, her tongue, and what body parts he hadn't wanted were left as a grisly reminder for any whore brave enough to traverse the streets at night in White Chapel. Genuine giddiness almost overwhelmed her at the knowledge that the Ripper did in fact, seem to enjoy toying with his victims a little; after all, she had wondered only moments ago herself if he had left the first one alive long enough to see true suffering reflected in her eyes as she died. Olivia could not imagine what it was like to watch him work, to see the intense concentration on his face as he sawed through limbs, or cut through skin to rip and tear out organs but all of her wonderings refocused on one simple question, why? It seemed rather odd that the Ripper had decided to take bits and pieces back from his victims instead of leaving them intact or at best, in pieces around the crime scene. Was he collecting trophies from each victim? Or perhaps he had stalked these strumpets first from the shadows, watching them for a few days before he acted on some basic instinct,

Mrs. Secor began the conversation with “I just talked with Mark Charlie, and if you could keep an eye on him, it might be a good thing”, or something very close to it. Mrs. Secor continued with statements the inmate had made to her that included: (1) having flashbacks; (2) feeling lonely; (3) being in negative places; (4) feeling depressed; (5) not feeling

“Good morning,” I said as I walked into room 34. I picked up the patient's chart and looked through it. “So you’ve been experiencing speech difficulties, headaches, nausea, and drowsiness?” I asked. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s nothing, though,” Mrs. Gallagher replied.

I stood between the two bodies, looking into their lifeless, glassy eyes. Crimson blood pooled around their stiff bodies. More blood ran down the blade of the knife I clutched in my hand, gathering at the point and slowly dripping on my leg. What had he done?