Suzy Amis had been at Pines Medical Centre for almost three years. She had arrived as a bright-eyed six year old, eager for new experiences, mature beyond her age. But the Pines, a high-security government-run and owned centre for 'exceptional' children, had robbed her of all dreams and hope. And tonight, she was going to make them pay.

After two years of exemplary behaviour, ideal responses and perfect manners, her retainers, two burly black male nurses with Luger pistols in their belts, had grown complacent in their care of her. Tonight, they had left her muzzle a little loose. And they had not checked to see if she had swallowed the tranquilizers; it was a simple matter to hide them under her tongue, and spit them out of her mouth through the tiny hose that ran from her lips through the mask, allowing her to breathe without opening her mouth.

Because Suzy had a dangerous mouth.

Tonight, she stretched out her neck as far backwards as she could, and using her elbows as leverage, managed to catch the back of her head-mask on the tip of her bedpost. Tugging so hard that the straps under her chin began to cut into her, she shut her eyes tight as the effort pushed a gasp through the tiny orifice in her mask. Finally, after what seemed to be an age, the mask snapped open with a tearing sound, the breathing tube pulled from between her lips, and she took a huge breath of air as she felt the freedom of a naked face for the first time in a year.

Carefully, she slid her shoulder higher up the bed, and with a twist, dislocated it with a pop. She steadied her breathing, taking her mind off the pain, and slid her arm free of the padded locks. Once out of them, she took a deep breath and smashed her shoulder back onto the bed railing, popping it back into place. With one arm out, it was easy to free her other arm and her legs.

She climbed off the bed, and crept slowly over to the door, enjoying this taste of freedom. Peering through the wire-mesh covered window, she spotted one of her guards leaning against the door outside, smoking a cigarette in the dim light of the hallway. Smiling, Suzy tapped a little hand on the window, and stepped back.

The sound took a moment to register with the man, but when it did, he swung round and peered owlishly through the glass. Seeing her standing there, his mouth dropped open and he fumbled at the lock with the huge bunch of keys he kept hanging from his belt. And then the door swung open, the man swept in, and Suzy smiled.

Doctor Faustino was enjoying a mug of hot soup in the common room when the shockwave hit. The plate glass windows behind him exploded inwards, showering him and his soup with inch thick clear plastic. He hit the floor with a thud, wincing as a piece of the window pierced his back. He rolled awkwardly, slid into the water cooler, and stood up with difficulty. He surveyed the scene for a second, heard the klaxons sounding in the South Wing, and began to run. And as he ran, he started to pray.

Greg Chomsky was not a small man, but he was thrown against the wall like a puppet as the surge hit the corridor. His towel trolley was picked up and smashed against the door to room SW122, which lasted only a split second longer before it too burst into splinters. Greg lay shaken for a minute, and felt the trickle of blood from his ears forming a pool around him. Groggily, Greg picked himself up, wiped his bloody hands on his Cowboys t-shirt, and looked around the hallway. Every single door had burst. Along with Greg's eardrums.

The first nurses and guards to arrive at SW303, Suzy's private room, were the lucky ones. They were killed instantly. The second and third waves, however, were not so lucky. They were forced to endure not only the sight of their faster comrades being blown to pieces, but also the pain of the shockwaves as they reverberated down the corridor. Each blast took down another line of men, their heads and bodies exploding, and those injured unable to get away before the next surge crushed their internal organs. It took a full two minutes for the wall to collapse, and when it did it revealed Suzy, standing in a sea of blood and flesh, screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming.

As each shockwave knocked him down, Faustino had to push himself harder and harder to get up and keep moving towards the epicentre of the violence. He was one hallway away when the surges eventually stopped.

Willing himself step by step down the final corridor of the South Wing, Faustino almost retched at the sight of the pieces of his former workmates. Organs crushed and splashed across the walls of the hallway, limbs mangled and torn and left lying like mannequin accessories. Shaking with fear, starting at every noise, he made his way down the corridor and closer to SW303. Clenching his teeth and feeling the sweat pour from his hands, he peered around the doorway and into the room.

Suzy giggled playfully as Greg and her sat on the blood soaked floor. She had found a new friend, and as they sat, they built a pyramid out of eyeballs.

An original attempt to be part of the Everything Quests: Scary Stories thang...

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