The room was shaped like a cylinder. The walls circling around me were all made out of oak and rose up into the air indefinitely. The walls were all stained with the imprints of people. Children. Adults. Men. Women. They were all there. I recognized some of them. Patients and Workers from Crown Hill. All the people in the oak walls were talking. Or trying to at least. Their mouths were all moving. Of course nothing was coming from them except whispers. The static of the whispers sounded like a heavy wind that was trapped in this room. A swirling tornado of lost hope surrounding me and engulfing me. In the center of the room I saw him. My father. He was waiting there with his head down. He was facing me. I walked up to him. As I got closer I could see that he was holding something. I knew what it was before I saw it completely. It was the same thing that had been leading me along. Bringing me closer to this moment every step of the way. He didn’t say anything when I walked up to him. He just raised his head and looked at me with eyes that I knew were sorry to see me. He didn’t want me here. He didn’t mean to bring me here. I was about to find out why I was here though. He pressed play.

“I don’t know how many of them there were. Countless. Everywhere in this room were recorders. Some of them were broken. Recording tape extended across the floor like a sea of snakes. The recordings that I could play were awful. They told horrible stories of those that came before me. All of them had been drawn to this place by him. Hellequin. He was a story teller. He told his stories to all the lost souls he had collected. He kept them here to torment them with the pain of others. I kept playing through the tapes. Each one a new tale from a new soul that was being broken down. All of them had fought like I had. They all had searched for ways out of their hell. All of them had failed. I tried to escape just like them. The room had no way out now. How long had I been here now? Years? Decades? I never ran out of tapes. When one ended there was always another one to listen to. I wore down. I cried. I pressed stop on them. I smashed them. I covered my ears. They never stopped until they were done though. All the sentences of suffering spread out over an eternity. That was my life now. When they did finally stop, he appeared. He came to give me the option he had given all the others. He only came when they people were at their weakest. When he had taken all the happiness from you. Taken the laughter as the whispers would say. He gave them a way out. They could live in the walls like the others. They could whisper now instead of scream. All they had to do was one simple thing. He stood right behind me. His knife like fingers reached around and handed me a recorder. He told me to think of the one that mattered most to me. My body wasn’t mine again after that. I had already decided to give myself to him the instant he handed me the recorder. I tried not to think of you. I tried to go blank. But it was too late. He was inside my fear. He had control. I pressed record. My words that weren’t my own flowed out of my mouth. Bryce. You have to come to Crown Hill. Stop what you’re doing and come right now. I need you son. I’m not going to make it through this. That’s what I said. I’m sorry Bryce. I’m so sorry. All that’s left of me now lives in these recordings. Eventually you may end up here also. When you give up fighting and are tired of listening to the pain. I pray that you find a way out of here. I fear that the only way out is to whisper though.”

Hellequin was behind me now. I could see the outline of his shadow on the ground in front of me. The light came from nowhere. It was fluorescent like that of a hospital. It gave the tint of misery to this place. He whispered in my ear.

“Welcome to the show. I have so many stories to tell you,” Hellequin said.

“I don’t want to hear them.”

I walked up to my father. He was still holding the recorder. I put my arm on his shoulder.

“I don’t blame you for this. I would have always come looking for you. Even if you had told me not to. You know that.”

He looked me in the eyes. He didn’t say a word. He just handed me the recorder. He pressed the eject button. The recording had a message carved into it. It looked like it had been carved with a finger nail. It said to play the other side. My father’s eyes became urgent. I didn’t know what he had had planned but he had planned something. I needed to act fast before Hellequin realized something was up. I flipped the tape around and put it back in.

“What are you doing!? Stop!?”

That horrible voice that sounded like a thousand screaming people caught me off guard. He was too late though. I turned towards him and pressed play.

“Why is there broken tapes? I kept asking myself where they had come from. When I destroyed a tape they would just disappear and be replaced with another. These tapes stayed. These tapes were destroyed by him. These were the ones he didn’t like. He lets you know when he’s watching. He’s always just out of your vision. Slinking around in the corner of your eye with that damn grin on his face. He leaves though. He goes off to inflict some kind of torment on another poor soul. That’s when these tapes were made. The ones that fought him. These tapes held the stories of the people that wouldn’t give up. They kept searching for a way out. A way to beat him. And they were getting closer. I kept dealing with the horrible stories. Waiting for him to leave so I could try to fix the broken tapes. I needed to hear what was on them. I needed to continue their stories of resilience. Countless hours passed. All the horrible tapes of the damned. But I finally heard the story. The one that the others had been recording. The one that I meant to finish. Hellequin was empowered by the pain and suffering of others. He breathed in their screaming to make himself stronger. He needed that strength to stay in control of all the other monsters of this place. But he wasn’t as physical as the others. He wasn’t just a story teller. He was a story himself. He lived in the recordings and was bound to them. Bound to their stories. These stories of the strong were not the ones that gave him power. They were not about the suffering he caused. They weren’t even about him. That was it. That was what caused him to break these. Stories that weren’t about him caused others to grow stronger. And in this case. Each of these tapes was about something different. All the things of this place. All the other demons he had been lording over. They were all evil. But he was the most evil. This tape gives them power. This tape is not a tape of victory. It’s a tape of escape. Because they are strong like him now. And they will be coming for him. And when they do. You must do one thing. Run.”

The walls began to shake. Hellequin looked around and for the first time I saw him uncertain. I saw him worried. The oak walls began to crack.

“What have you done?! Now they will all get out!” Hellequin said.

He was right. My father had done something horrible. He was letting the monsters down here loose. More powerful than they had ever been. He had also given me a chance. He wasn’t fighting for the world. He was just fighting for me. It was done now. The walls continued to crack. Then the door appeared. I ran for it without a second thought. Hellequin saw me going. He turned to chase me. The walls behind him broke. The oak burst and splintered. All of them came from the darkness. Every bad apple of this forgotten place was coming. Not just for me or the world, but for him also. I was through the door. He was coming. He wouldn’t make it. Not if I had anything to say about it. I closed it on him and ran down the corridor. I didn’t look back as I heard his horrible all voice scream and the oak door began to splinter and break. There was no more laughter for Hellequin. All he could do now was scream.