Dr. Slim's House

After a near-fatal car crash, a very injured delinquent, Patrick Hull, wakes up in the guest room of Dr. Maurice Slim, who promises to take care of him until he is ready to leave. Once in Dr. Slim's house, however, strange things start to happen to Patrick and, just as he begins to trust Dr. Slim, he starts to doubt his situation.


3. 3.

When I woke up, I saw that Dr. Slim was sitting by the bed on the arm of another fancy possession of his, an antique-looking wooden chair, and he was placing my breakfast and preparing my painkillers on the bedside table. He's a very tall, thin man with an even thinner mustache, and he's got that very wet-looking, combed-back hairstyle that makes him look like he just stepped out of the nineteen-thirties. It was early in the morning, but he was still wearing the same outfit he'd had on since I met him a few days ago. It was a black pinstripe morning suit with a silvery vest, plain white gloves and the kinds of black shoes you would only see people wearing at a wedding or a funeral or something like that. He had also worn a black top hat - which I thought was pretty funny - but I guess he hadn't put it on yet. Either that or he noticed how it made him look and realized that it was probably better off in a drawer somewhere.

When he saw that I was awake, he greeted me.

'Good morning, Mr. Hull.' he said with a weird, toothy smile that almost made his pencil mustache disappear. 'Did you sleep well?'

I nodded. 'Yes, thank you, Dr. Slim.'

'Very good, Mr. Hull. I have made you some toast and water with which to take your painkillers.' His voice was so feminine and non-threatening it just added to the creepy atmosphere. 'Do you need anything else? Fluff you pillows? Change the angle of the bed?'

I wanted him to change the angle of the bed, but I didn't answer him right away because he had this one hair on his head that was all stuck straight up in the air. I get distracted easily, you can probably gather. Also I didn't remember telling him my name. I don't even think he asked for it. I guess he must have read it on my license when he found me in my car or something. Anyway, he took my silence as a "no".

'Okay, Mr. Hull. Well, if you need anything, let me know.' He said. He was very friendly. Maybe too friendly. 'I'll be right here if you just ring that bell.' Then, once again in a very feminine and eccentric way, he gestured towards a little bell on the table and left my room with a sweep and a wave.

Do you remember earlier how I likened my situation to the book "Misery"? Well, I've been thinking a little more about it and I remembered something. Wasn't the crazy lady really unnaturally friendly and generous to the guy at first? You know, when she was keeping him in her house to take care of him? My god, it's like the more I think about it the more I end up freaking myself out! I hope Slim doesn't change the way that lady did in the book. Jesus Christ, I really hope Slim doesn't turn out to be like that!

Then the muffled mumbling started up again through the wall, as it had done every day and night before, and that was when I really lost my mind. I started thinking up all of these freaky situations that might explain the humming and Slim's behavior. I do that. I have a very overactive imagination and it makes me paranoid as hell. I started scaring myself, thinking that Slim was some kind of serial killer who keeps injured people in his guest rooms before he kills them. Or that he was in the process of killing us already. The possibility still freaks me out. Like what if the painkillers aren't really painkillers? It would make perfect sense, wouldn't it? I mean, I've never seen the bottle of them. He always just comes in with the painkillers right there in his glove.

I have to stop thinking too much because I'm making myself pretty upset. Writing about it here is starting to make me crazy, too. If my legs weren't broken I'd take a walk and forget about it but I guess that's off the table. All I can do is lie here and make myself paranoid or sleep and have another weird dream, which would end up scaring me anyway. Damn it, I wish I never crashed my car. I wish I never got beat up by that gang and I wish Slim had just left me to die where he found me because this is mental torture. I swear, I'm going stir crazy.



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