“Natasha Shoemaker was a thirty-two-year-old female. She was rushed to the hospital after a car accident that left the passengers of the other car, forty-year-old Stanely Grey and his wife, thirty-nine-year-old Megan Grey dead at the scene. Natasha was pronounced dead in the hospital at 12:44 A.M. from severe internal bleeding.”
I hastily jotted down the details in my notepad. “You got all that sir?” inquired the doctor, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Yeah, I did. This patient didn’t have any sort of history with hallucinations, did they?” I responded. The doctor looked down and shook his head. “Sorry detective Parker, but I can’t disclose that to you. Maybe you can get in contact with her psychiatrist. But because of patient confidentiality you probably won’t get anything useful.” he said. I said my farewells to the hospital personnel as I left. I stepped through the sliding doors and headed to my car. The cold rain fell like a crashing tree. Each raindrop felt like a miniature cannon ball landing right on top of me. As I drove off, I couldn’t help but think about what I found on Natasha’s computer a few days before the crash.
Natasha had been exhibiting highly concerning behavior for several months. She was admitted to an institution after a wellness check, called for her by her sister, revealed that she was a danger to herself and others. After that, an investigation was started into what she was up to and her possible relation to the recent murder of Grace Walker. When we checked her computer, we found that she had spent countless hours on forums and websites relating to the paranormal. I kept seeing the same words and phrases appear over and over. “Doppelganger” and “Morphed” and “The Visitor”. Those words rattled around my mind like dice. The repetition ate away at my mind day after day like a pest. Eventually the interest turned into an obsession which swallowed me whole. Then the incident happened. Natasha escaped, severely injuring one of the nurses, and then stole the car that she eventually crashed an hour later.
The psychiatrist’s office wouldn’t be open at this hour, so I drove home. I had some files to sort through anyways. As I drove, I could feel something was off. It wasn’t a feeling based on logic but just something that happened, like hunger. The feeling only got worse the closer I got to my house. My stomach dropped as I pulled into the driveway. The plant pot next to my door was smashed on the ground. Soil and shards of porcelain were mixed into the dirt and grass. I rifled through the dirt, illuminating the pile with the flashlight on my phone. My spare keys were buried in the dirt. I had checked when I left for work. With every passing second, my heartbeat increased more and more. I could feel it in my ears. I began to shake as uncontrollably as I came to the realization that the keys weren’t there. I looked up through my eyebrows at my front door, not moving my head. I saw a shadowy figure through the glass door. “Holy crap! What the hell!” I shouted. I got to my feet faster than I ever did before. Time had slowed down to a crawl as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. However, when I looked in through the door, the figure had disappeared. I could feel my neck become unbearably hot. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time, dread. I had no idea how a person could leave my line of sight in less than a second.
My left hand was reaching for the doorknob while my right was reaching for my gun. Sure enough, the door had been unlocked. I slowly walked inside as my eyes darted in every direction. It took all of my strength to stop my hands from shaking as I didn’t want to reveal my fear and I wanted my aim to stay sharp. The droplets of rain and sweat rolled down my face and coat.
Drip drop drip.
Each droplet sounded like a church bell ringing in my ear. It was deafening. I needed to stay focused. I continued forward until I got to the hallway that turned left. The only light that was on was the single lamp in the living room and the television. Before me was an empty void that no matter how hard I stared at it, it wouldn’t willingly give up its secrets. I was about to step forward into the abyss when I was alerted by a noise. The television had begun playing static. The screech shocked me like a lightning bolt straight to the spine. I whipped my head around so fast that I heard a crack in my neck. A shadowy, faceless humanoid was towering over me. It looked down at me as its face slit open, revealing Natasha’s face underneath. “Aren’t you going to greet your visitor?” asked the creature in a distorted version of Natasha’s voice. It reached out its hand to touch me. I was paralyzed. Its face split again reveling Grace’s face. Then mine. It’s cold, boney fingers touched my forehead. Tears began to well up in my eyes and it became hard to breathe.
“Will I die Visitor?” I stuttered.
“No. Better.”
Assimilation is a strange feeling.