Work Text:
[Recorder clicks on.]
ARCHIVIST:
Statement of Harper Chang, regarding the thing inside of her. Original statement given December 10th, 2015. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.
Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT):
There is something inside of me. I don't know what it is, but I know it is there. I can feel it. It moves and twists and coils and pulses like some throbbing thing . I don't know what it is, but I know it's inside me.
It moves, I know that. Sometimes, I can feel it snaking inside my gut or other times it's threading through my ribs. It is not a muscle spasm, it's nothing like that. It's something different. Something alive. I'm afraid to know what it is, but I don't think anyone could truly know what it is. Hell, if it's inside me, shouldn't I be the one to identify it? Shouldn't I know?
Sometimes, I think that I actually see it. Just out of the corner of my eye, I'll see a flash of movement under my skin. When I take a closer look or pinch at my skin until it's fevered and bruised, it's gone. I can never catch it, and I can't even get a good look at it.
My friends haven't seen it. I've asked them. I've so worriedly placed their hands over the spots where I last felt it, and asked if they could feel it. Like I was asking them to feel if I had a fever or not. Of course, they've never never felt it. They never see it. I hate the pitying look in their eyes when they realize I'm not assured by their opinion, that I'm actually upset over this thing that they cannot see. The thing that I cannot prove.
I don't feel any different since I realized it was inside me. I don't have a fever and I'm not fatigued. My appetite isn't any different either, so that rules out it being some giant tapeworm. Things would be easier if it was a tapeworm. If it was, then I could do something about it. All I can do now is pretend to forget about it until I feel it stirring again.
I don't remember the day I realized it was inside me. It's like trying to remember when you understood you were alive, or when you gained consciousness. But I know there was a time when it wasn't inside me, at least I think there was. I wasn't always like this, I didn't always have this fear of the unknown, squirming being inside of me. I wish I knew what had changed, what action triggered this thing to grow inside of me. What did I do? What did I do to deserve whatever it is? To fear the thing inside of me, the thing I can neither name nor see? I only know it is there, that's the only thing I'm certain about. That it is there and that it will not be leaving soon.
I have tried going to the doctors, but the appointments all end up going the same way. I work up what little nerve I have to visit the clinic, but before my turn even comes I get so nervous that I have to leave. I've done this three different times at three different clinics. I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll get into my appointment and the doctor won't see it. That they'll find absolutely nothing wrong with me. But I'm also scared that they'll see what's living inside me and they'll know what it is, they'll tell me just how bad it is and scold me for not coming in sooner.
Either way, I'm so terribly frightened with whatever results may come. So much that it's better just not to know what the thing inside me is or if it's even real at all then to know. But it still gnaws at me. When I feel it digging inside me, slipping seamlessly through my organs and flesh like it belongs there… I wonder. I wonder and I am so afraid. Still, if whatever is inside me does kill me, I'd rather not know until it happens.
With the way it appeared inside me, I wonder if more will come. More things to call me their home. Maybe there are already more of them inside me. Maybe it's never been one. Maybe I've been filled this entire time with foreign, squirming beings. Or maybe they're waiting for me to let my guard down. When I least expect it they'll hatch and pour into my veins and swim in my blood like Olympic swimming pools. I'll be so overflowing with them that there will be more of them then there is me. If you cut me, you might even see one of them wriggling in the pool of blood there.
That's a good idea, something I've never thought of before, actually. Cutting. I can pinch, poke, and prod all I want, but I'm never quick enough to catch it. But if I cut myself… I could stop it. I could find the thing inside me and rip it out. I could finally know what it is without doctors or anyone else's thoughts. I could know all by myself and I could be at ease. I could get rid of it. I could make sure there are no more of them inside me.
Writing this down makes me feel better than I have in weeks since I've been so preoccupied with the thing inside me. I'm finally seeing a clear path on how to stop it, and it's as straight as a razor's edge. I can't wait to be free of it. To live in my body by myself again, to not feel it squirm. I'll be free. Nothing will stop me, and nothing will save the thing inside me. It is inside me, so that means it is at my mercy.
Thank you, thank you so much for letting me write this. Once I get it out, you can have it. Proof. Yes, it will be proof that what I'm feeling is real. Maybe you guys can even figure out what it is. If you do figure out what it officially is, don't tell me. I'll know. I'll know exactly what it is as I pull the wretched thing out of me.
ARCHIVIST:
Statement ends.
I had Tim follow up on this statement since Martin is… (CLICKS TONGUE.) The last person I would want to subject to anything that could even be mildly connected to Prentiss. This squirming- thing, it's almost too… worm-like. Even for me. Reading this made my injuries from the attack ache, but I don't think whatever this is was like Prentiss. It was similar, but-
(OFFICE DOOR OPENS WITH A CREAK.)
MARTIN BLACKWOOD:
Hey, Jon, are you- Oh, oh sorry. I thought you said you were taking a break?
ARCHIVIST:
I- I am. Just… (SHUFFLES PAPERS.) Ah... After this last one. I'm almost done.
MARTIN BLACKWOOD:
You said that 20 minutes ago. I still think it's too early for you to be coming back to work. You haven't even-
ARCHIVIST:
(FONDLY.) Alright, alright. (SIGHS SOFTLY.) Martin, I- I promise.
MARTIN BLACKWOOD:
(SKEPTICAL.) You promise?
ARCHIVIST:
I swear on my life.
MARTIN BLACKWOOD:
(LAUGHING SOFTLY.) None of that- none of that, thank you. But… I'll hold you to it.
(DOOR CREAKS SHUT AS MARTIN BLACKWOOD LEAVES.)
(QUIET.)
ARCHIVIST:
(CLEARS THROAT.) Um… Anyways.
I had Tim do the follow up on this one. He's as keen as I am to keep Martin away from any worms, thankfully. It didn't take a lot of digging for him to find information on Ms. Chang, but what he found wasn't very surprising.
Her official cause of death was suicide, as she was found in her bathtub with very deep and deliberate cuts carved vertically into her arms; and the razor she used was still clenched in her hand when they found her. However, the thing that the police could not explain was the slithering tracks that were left trailing away from Chang's bathtub in her own blood.
Tim managed to get ahold of photos of said tracks, but they are rather… bloody. They look wriggly and curved like they were made by snakes or by worms. Ugh. However, the strangest thing about these tracks is that they stop at Ms. Chang's bathroom door. They just- end. There is no blood on the door, or on the other side of it. It just stops there. These- things disappear.
(SIGHS.) It seems that Ms. Chang did end up getting whatever this creature was out from inside of her, but she lost her life in the process. Losing your life for knowledge… I don't- I don't blame her for what she did, for wanting answers and to be free of whatever thing plagued her body. But I'm more than beginning to understand that things like this aren't as easy as we want them to be…
I'm lucky that for now, all of us are safe… Heh, albeit, a little scarred from the worms, but… safe.
Best not to keep Martin waiting any longer, I suppose.
End recording.
[Recorder clicks off.]