Episode 18 The Golden Boy
All the years of being the monkey. The demons screamed with delight. They poured into my head like smoke. Chairs overturned. Glass shattered. Emily screamed. The demons clawed at my mind, trying to steer my hands. Trying to turn me into the monster they knew I could be. I grabbed Logan and drove him into the floor.
DARK RECESSES
Billy
3/25/20263 min read
Episode 18 The Golden Boy
Logan was the golden boy of the ward.
Everyone knew it.
The nurses trusted him.
The doctors praised him.
The orderlies joked with him like he was one of them.
Logan took his medication without complaint.
Logan followed the rules.
Logan smiled at the right moments.
Logan was what recovery was supposed to look like.
At least on the surface.
I never trusted Logan.
Golden boys make me nervous.
They shine too brightly.
People confuse brightness with goodness.
But rot can shine.
My father shined.
People admired him.
A respected man.
A brilliant man.
The kind of man who pushes a child’s face into wet sheets.
Golden boys are dangerous.
They hide well.
Then she arrived.
The new patient.
Her name was Emily.
Or maybe that’s just the name I gave her.
Memory slips sometimes in places like that.
But I remember certain things clearly.
Emily hated the fluorescent lights.
She said they hummed like angry bees.
Sometimes she covered her ears when they flickered.
She kept folding tiny paper birds out of scrap napkins from the cafeteria.
She said if you made enough birds they might remember how to fly and carry messages out of the hospital.
One day she whispered something to me.
“I’m not afraid of dying,” she said quietly.
“I’m afraid of being watched while I’m still alive.”
She glanced at the ceiling when she said it.
That was the first moment I wondered if she could see the demons too.
Logan noticed her immediately.
Golden boys always notice beauty.
They think the light belongs to them.
At first we sat together in the recreation room.
Three patients pretending to be normal.
The television whispered nonsense in the corner.
The fluorescent lights buzzed like insects trapped in glass.
Emily laughed at something I said.
A real laugh.
Sharp and sudden.
Logan’s smile tightened.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
After that Logan began orbiting closer.
Pulling up chairs.
Answering Emily’s questions before I could.
Talking about his progress.
His therapy.
His bright future.
Golden boy speeches.
Emily listened politely.
But when Logan talked too long she would quietly fold another paper bird.
That drove him crazy.
One afternoon Emily took my hand.
Just for a second.
Her fingers were cold.
Not nervous cold.
Hospital cold.
She squeezed once and let go.
Logan saw it.
Something in his face changed.
Not anger.
Something colder.
Possession.
Later that evening Logan cornered me near the vending machines.
The lights flickered above us.
Machines humming like distant engines underground.
“She’s not yours,” Logan said quietly.
I laughed.
“Nobody owns anyone.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re sick, Billy.”
“We’re all sick,” I said.
“That’s why we’re here.”
Something passed between us then.
Recognition.
Predators recognizing predators.
Logan’s eyes were calm.
Too calm.
He wasn't angry.
He was calculating.
That frightened me more.
For a moment I saw something behind his eyes.
Something hollow.
Something that looked a lot like my father.
The demons gathered near the ceiling lights.
They could smell the tension.
They drifted closer.
Their mouths stretching into terrible grins.
They weren't laughing.
They were hungry.
One of them lowered itself toward me.
Its face inches from mine.
Its teeth whispering.
Do it.
Break him.
Show them what you are.
I tried to ignore it.
But the demons don’t whisper.
They gnaw.
They chew at the edges of your thoughts.
They eat your spirit like termites eating wood.
Logan swung first.
A perfect punch.
Golden boy rage.
Blood filled my mouth.
And something inside me cracked open.
All the humiliation.
All the fear.
All the years of being the monkey.
The demons screamed with delight.
They poured into my head like smoke.
Chairs overturned.
Glass shattered.
Emily screamed.
The demons clawed at my mind, trying to steer my hands.
Trying to turn me into the monster they knew I could be.
I grabbed Logan and drove him into the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
His head hitting tile.
My hands tightening around his throat.
The demons shrieking encouragement.
Orderlies rushed in.
Hands grabbed me.
Pulled me away.
But the demons stayed.
They hovered over Logan’s body.
Disappointed he was still breathing.
That was the end of me at that hospital.
Within days they decided I was too unstable to remain this condition.
Too violent.
Too unpredictable.
So, they spoke something else.
A place with a name that carries weight.
A place doctors whisper about in low voices.
Even the staff looked uneasy when they said the name under their breath.
People disappear inside places like that.
Not their bodies.
Their minds.
Dr. Martinez stopped writing.
“And Logan?” he asked.
“Did he recover?”
I smiled faintly.
“Golden boys usually do.”
“They land on their feet.”
“But something changed that day.”
“A door opened in my mind.”
“Or maybe a hole.”
Because when I later climbed down into the sewer…
The darkness didn't feel frightening.
It felt familiar.
Like returning to the only place the demons couldn't completely control me.
Like home.
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