￼My name is Olivia Jones. That’s my full first name. Olivia Jones Allie Smith. People call me OJ, or well, they did. Now they call me Black Arm. I have a dirty blond hair, fair skin, two big olive-green eyes, but everyone only notices by right arm where the skin has turned black. I guess it was a while back when it happened.
We were in school that day when John ran over to me and my best friend Amelia. He asked us if we knew about this abandoned hospital. I hadn’t heard of one and I was quite the adventurous child… maybe too adventurous. John started ranting that in the next town over there was an abandoned World War Two hospital, and of course my dumb a*s decided to go explore it. Amelia and John came with me, of course. They shouldn’t have, or… maybe they should’ve. I could have died if they didn’t kill Amelia.
Back to the story. We went in and like any realistic exploring an abandoned hospital, there was absolutely nothing. It was as boring as watching a teacher teach kids about math they already know. There was dust in the air to the point you could taste it. Small drops of blood that over the years turned into a muddy brown on the yellowing sheets of beds. Beds who’s owners left them alone to be ripped by bugs making homes. I scoffed just as Amelia walked into the room.
“OJ what’s wrong?”
“This as boring as a pet rock. There’s only little blood drops from nose bleeds, I’m guessing, and John is too scared to go upstairs,” I replied to her.
“Well… I-I-I could go with you,” her stutter made me smirk she was so easily manipulated in her fear state.
“Oh really! Yay! Thank you so much Amelia!”
“Y-y-Yeah d-don’t mention it…”
I grabbed her hand and raced upstairs. John noticed us run up and followed. The stairs creaked under us as if yelling to go back and leave them alone to rot in peace. I guess I should’ve listened but, I’m the rebel kind. I had friends who I could have done whatever I wanted whenever. Someone to convince to go underage drinking with. All cause I was one year older. I was 18 at the time. Doing drugs and drinking. I’m glad I enjoyed it while it lasted, cause after we reached the top of the steps, three sharp whistles rang throughout the halls.
I heard the sound of skin hitting the ground, like the sound of someone walking with bare feet on tile. That awful sound of the sweat sticking to the floor to make a loud pop noise and pulling away. And then, something from the room behind us sank its teeth into my forearm. It felt like snake teeth in a person’s mouth had bit my arm. And sadly that’s exactly what it was.
I screamed out in pain. The noise echoing made it seem like I was in a black room and was helpless. I didn’t even have time to see what bit me ’till I saw something else bite the head of Amelia. She yelled for help and I expected John to appear to her rescue. No. The coward ran down the stairs. I stopped screaming. I stopped crying. I couldn’t even feel the pain of my arm. It all just stopped. He left us to die. I got angry and ripped my arm out of the thing’s mouth and ran towards him. I was so close to grabbing him before I heard Amelia yell again. I turned to see the thing let go, but something dripped of its teeth. It didn’t move like saliva, and looked almost yellow.
Amelia fell to floor screaming and squirming in such grotesque way. I almost threw up. The next thing though I didn’t get to see. Someone grabbed me. It wasn’t a violent grab. It was like a mother grabbing a child and leading it away from a park. Soft but the pull was firm. I looked at the hand that grabbed me. The skin was a green tan color. It looked sick and horrid like something died. The fingers were abnormally long. I looked up the arm. She had a light brown shawl on and a long dull pink dress. Her hair was long and red darkening into a black. She wore a nurse cap that matched her clothes. Her eyes were large and black and she had horns that were black on the tips. But most notably she wore a half face gas mask.
I could no longer hear the screams, or any noise. My right arm suddenly felt like it was on fire. I grabbed it roughly and noticed something odd. My entire forearm and hand were black. The thing next to me suddenly laid me back onto a bed and got a syringe. She stabbed it in my arm. My pain felt thousand times worse. After that well I blacked out. When I did wake up that thing that grabbed me spoke. She called herself Nurse.
“What am I doing here?! Let me go you Demon!”
“Hush now,” her response was calming in a scary way. “Let me explain who I am and why you’re here.”
She sat me up and sat on the bed by me like a mother to a child.
“During World War Two, there was a 17 year old girl in this hospital. Her doctor was a cruel pathetic p*******e and r****t. He did awful things to the young girl. So she called on me. And she became my patient. But that God awful man kept r****g her. She became more and more depressed ’till she killed herself. My experiment was ruined. And so I gassed him, and began to save those young girls from disgusting men like him. I was going to do the same to you but… you seem like a fun experiment,” her voice was soft and calm with malicious intent laced into it. She handed me a gun. It was a pistol.
“Go kill as many people as you can. I’m running out of fresh organs.”