Trigger warning for mental illness.

The door hissed as the three girls finally managed to wedge it open, as if it were determined to keep its secrets from prying eyes. The light seeped reluctantly through the forbidding halls, casting darkness along the peeling paint and dust-danced air. The trio crept inside, their footsteps crying out at the faux silence, cracking against the rusty-brown splattered tiles. Not even a draft dared whisper through this building, a husk of civilisation. Despite how brave Artemis and Athena may deem themselves, the structure commanded absolute reverence, forcing the two to edge through the halls. The absolute feeling of wrong lurched from every crevice, latching onto the two girls and shivering down their spines.  

"Ali, what did you want to show us?" Athena hissed through her teeth at the third girl, who snapped out of her traumatised reverie and faced the two.

"No, Athena's right. Why on earth are we here?" Artemis passive aggressively spat in hushed tones. Neither felt particularly comfortable. Ali's eyes darted around in panic before she leaned forwards, placing a finger of silence on her dry lips.

"Don't be so loud," she made out in a barely audible voice. Artemis and Athena shot each other a look that only they could understand.

"Ali," Artemis began cautiously. "Why do we need to be quiet?"

"What's down here?" Athena added. Once more, the red-head shushed the two.

"You don't want to alert him to your presence," Ali ushered, leading them into a room strewn with papers and unearthly equipment. The tiles became more faded scarlet than white in this room. The floor shone, and for a moment, Artemis thought the blood was fresh before she heard the crunch of glass under her shoes. "I have to go grab something, stay here." Ali then darted out of the room. Athena wandered over to the twisted mammoth of metal and pulled wires in the corner of the room, running her hands down the rough sides in a mix of horror and awe.

"This is so cool..." she breathed. Athena looked at Artemis, who was leafing through the papers on what once might have been a desk. She noticed a wooden chair, large chunks of it had been broken away, the sharp edges like the shards of a broken chandelier. Worn leather straps hung lifelessly from where they were attached to the chair, the colour of ancient terracotta. "What is this place?" Artemis shook her head in confusion.

"I might have a clue, not my Ali brought us here though." She beckoned Athena to come over. They both leaned over a desk as Artemis pulled out a pile of paper that had been strung together. "Look at this," she pointed at the date at the top of the papers before gesturing towards the chair and medical apparatus. "This might have once been an asylum of sorts."

Athena's brow furrowed. "But the technology is far too advanced for the date on those letters."

"I know," Artemis nodded. "And these look like log entries, perhaps from the person who owned this place." Athena pulled up two foldable chairs from the corner of the room and set them down at the desk, a puff of dust rising from them in a plume. She sat down and pulled her chair forwards with a screech that made Artemis wince.

"Well," Athena said. "We might as well read this while we wait for her to get back." Artemis nodded and they began reading the collection of weathered papers.

---

13th of September, 11:58pm, from the Log of Dr. Vaughans

My intentions were noble, and my theory was firm. All my research, labour and years of study were finally paying off on my life's work. Giddily flicking beads of sweat off my forehead, tantalising futures danced through my mind, showing the world cured of mental illness thanks to my machine. Eager to test my theory and cure my companions, I plucked a sickly rat from its enclosure and brought it over to the hulking mass of steel and wires. Its uncertain chocolate eyes pleading gazed into my soul, clearly communicating the fear it felt from the uncertainty of its position. I felt the tickles of it nestle into my palm as I stroked its silken fur and whispered words of comfort to distract from the straps that were now binding it to a lovingly crafted rat-sized chair. I yanked down the lever on the side of the machine, suddenly stricken with guilt at how the rat thrashed and screeched, desperately trying to be free.

"This is for your own good. This will help you. It will help so many people. Just a few more seconds and it will all be over," I delicately murmured to my test-subject, hoping to calm them. An alarm sounded from the machine, indicating the set time had finished and it was now turning off. I crossed the distance between the rat and I as if there were none there, such was my desperation to assure their welfare. Fingers fumbling over each other to undo the tiny rat restraints, my companion was finally loose of their bonds and curled in my palm. I hurried over to my bench, cluttered with wires and blank screens, carefully laying my friend down and reaching for IV needles. I babbled to comfort myself just as much as my patient as I slid the needles into them and monitored the brain waves that were rapidly appearing on the previously blank screens. I was flooded by relief and undiluted catharsis. Not only was my friend unhurt, but they were also cured from the plague in their mind. The experiment was a success.

2nd of November, 12:01pm, from the Log of Dr. Vaughans

My new volunteers were due to arrive soon. These were to be the first batch of humans to undergo the effects of my machine, which I have named 'The Proselyte.' It's not simply enough to test it on rats before releasing it to the world. I needed consistent evidence that it has the same effects on humans, for fear of failure and worsening conditions worldwide. Rest assured, these people had all come of their own free will, and were not coerced into participation.

Soon they were filing into the laboratory, claiming their place among the flimsy chairs I had set out.

"Good afternoon, I am Dr. Nicholas Vaughans. Here, we will be using you as test subjects on a new contraption designed to cure mental illness. You will be assigned private sleeping quarters, a schedule and a diary to log the effects undergone. If you wish to back out, do so in the next week, for once we have commenced the program, you will be too valuable and possibly volatile to lose," I warned them, making sure they were fully aware of what they were getting themselves into. I had no takers on my offer of leave. "Well then," I declared genially, rubbing my hands together. "You'll have the rest of the afternoon to mingle with your housemates and do as you please. Dinner is at 7, which is when you will be sent to your sleeping quarters."

The next week mainly consisted of more theory and note taking on each individual and The Proselyte, adjusting its execution to work on humans so the experiments would be ready to commence on the 9th. The denizens -as they had taken to calling themselves- seemed to be hitting it off, and even began hosting game nights, where they played warped versions of traditional games. One of these games was called 'Spin the Truth', which I believed to be a combination of Spin the Bottle and Truth or Dare. The rules to such games were beyond me.

9th of November, 8:13pm, from the Diary of Ms. Milano Garnis

The fact that everyone was on edge at dinner was a drastic contrast from the carefree excitement present during breakfast.

The experiments had begun this morning, which had sparked an eager buzzing in the air at breakfast. We were delighted at the prospect of variety breaking our barren routine. You see, excluding game nights and small talk, there isn't much in the way of entertainment here. Staff do all chores and I had already perused everything in the library. To say I was bored would have been an understatement.

Throughout the day, each person was called for their session in the Doctor's lab. One by one, they returned, the light in their eyes twisted into rage and previously enthusiastic nerves worn raw. The more of this I saw, the greater the collective sense of dread grew, so the pitying looks shot my way at dinner was understandable, given my name had been called. I trudged towards the laboratory with the enthusiasm of a man condemned to the gallows.

Most of the session spent with Dr. Vaughans is a blur. I can only recall the distinct impression of restraint and unbearable, searing pain, tinging what little memories of the experience I have, with fiery scarlet. Needless to say, the pleasant physiognomy of the Doctor was reflective of his personality and utterly unbefitting of his scientific pursuits! While his true and most likely sinister intentions are veiled from my sight, I am certain they do not justify the means by which he endeavours to rid mental illness. This is ethical sacrilege, a discrete madness I refuse to condone and endure the repercussions of. I've asked around, and the other denizens agree, so we're going to rid ourselves of this hellhole. This is a torture-house wearing a façade of science and nobility.

11th of November, 9:00am, from the Log of Dr. Vaughans

Last night the denizens requested their leave, and although my heart aches for them, they have already signed a contract and expended their week of decision. Unfortunately, there is nothing that can be done about their position unless they are cured or no longer of use.

On a lighter note, most of the denizens have seen exponential improvement since their first session. While they may have been quite shaken directly following the use of the Proselyte, most have stabilised and are slowly making progress without the Proselyte's help.

However, there are two patients who have been progressively developing a more severe condition. The first of these patients is Ms. Milano Garnis. Ms. Garnis has severe Delusional Disorder, which she will deny to no end, but after her first trial on the Proselyte, has become incorrigibly convinced that this experiment was organised by the Council with means to torture the participants. Her convictions have been causing unease in the other denizens. The second of these patients is Ms. Aoife Elmebrigge, who has been diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder. She clearly doesn't want to be here and has attempted multiple tactics ranging from playing victim to violence, to escape. She doesn't display any strong opinions towards the trials with the Proselyte, but rather believes herself to be above this institution and does not enjoy being restrained by the rules or told what to do by 'society'. One of the main causes in her shift of behaviour, are the convictions of Ms. Garnis, whom she was been spending a lot of time with. I've been trying to separate them since they are negatively impacting each other.

2nd of January, 5:43pm, from the Diary of Ms. Aoife Elmebrigge

This is completely and utterly unjust. Milano and I had freed everyone, we had left the restricting grasp of Dr. Vaughans, only to be snatched back up and dragged kicking and screaming into the institution. That man is a monster. What kind of moral degenerate tortures his own kind under the guise of science? Surely it's torture, after all, we do get strapped to a chair and subjected to unimaginable amounts of pain.

We escaped and he tracked us down and forced us to stay. Rest assured, I let him know exactly what I think of him and his bogus science.

3rd of January, 7:00am, from the Log of Dr. Vaughans

Last night, the denizens all tried to escape. Naturally, this cannot be allowed. How often must I stress the importance of their stay and contribution to science!? Nevertheless, it was not their blatant disregard that wounded me the most, it was their accusations that I derived pleasure from their screams, and only operated under the guise of scientific advancements. I don't enjoy their pain any more than they do! I'm trying to pave the path for a utopia, and they accuse me of sadism!

Certain patients have purposely spread these rumours among their ranks, presenting falsehood as fact and ruminations as certainty. Their behaviour towards me is now nothing but hostile. It is a hindrance and an insult.

3rd of March, 4:39pm, from the Diary of Mr. Seth Colkins

If I am cured, why am I still here? The Good Doctor has informed me of my progress, and I can confidently say I have filled the terms of my contract. I do not understand! I have a family to get back to, a job and friends. Are the awful rumours circulating around, true?

No. I refuse to believe them, even if they speak the truth. I don't want to have to face the possibility of being a human guineapig rather than a volunteer. If control of my life has been ripped from my grasp, what really do I have left? I can only hope that when and if I re-join my old life, I will be the same person I once was.

I'm sure that Dr Vaughans has his reasons for keeping us here longer than originally planned. I try to have faith that those reasons are noble.

4th of March, 4:00am, from the Log of Dr. Vaughans

I have successfully cured the majority of my test subjects, proving my invention to be a success but my curiosity has not been sated, it has only grown. I frequently wonder how far I can influence the mind if I am able to cure it. Are the experiments able to be reversed or even change people's opinions and memories? I have decided that this experiment is not ready to be concluded, not when there is more knowledge to uncover. The benefits this will reap would be extremely beneficial: world unity, peace, passivity! One could only dream of these scientific advancements in which previously only existed in the realm of science fiction!

My imagination is effervescent with the possibilities. I must now retire to my lab to make a few adjustments.

7th of March, 11:02pm, From the Diary of Ms. Victoria Hyde

It's been three days since the program was supposed to close, and we be released. This entry is testament to the fact that it hasn't. At first, we -the denizens- thought that things were simply being finalised, but Dr Vaughans has singlehandedly laid in front of us and verified the terrifying tales of our own creation that he had worked so hard deny, lifting the cruel veil of ignorance. Here is how it happened:

Earlier this night, during dinner, the usual low humming fixed the mood, only slightly dampened by the unease that twitched in our footsteps and festered within every mouthful of dry meat. I had just pushed away my dinner, the stress proving too much for my weak stomach, when the doctor seemed to appear on the top of one of the tables tinkling a cursed piece of silverware against his glass like some hellish bell. Our feverish small talk dissipated as he was brought to attention, deserting its battle against our anxiety leaving way for its fantastic invasion.

"I would like to make an important announcement," he began using the silver tongue he reserves for luring us into his self-acclaimed laboratory. Though I wanted to hear his announcement, my fear imbued curiosity triumphed over common sense as I began to holler, demand answers. I wasn't alone in my plight either, much of the room devolving into uproar. The horror dropped over me with an icy chill as I heard some peoples demands turn into accusations of popular whisperings, before escalating into blatant insults. The more sensible of us quietened once satisfied, yet the rebel group had no remorse for the injured expression the doctor now wore.

Then his gaze hardened, eyes cold, mouth curling up resentfully. I trembled, that terrible glower having transformed my spine into frozen slush. I was too shocked and frightened to fully listen to his speech, but the content that exited the once kind and reserved man's mouth was painfully clear:

"I'm not the enemy but if it will make you any more cooperative then I'm more than capable of playing the part."

The last of my hope siphoned away as I realised, I no longer had any choice in my stay.

14th of March, 2:23am, From the Diary of Mr. Pleasant Frasier

It has been a week since Dr. Vaughans made his speech and imprisoned us in his institution. I'm scribbling this entry hastily, because Dr Vaughans punishes us if we stay up past curfew or leave our rooms without instruction. Is there some sort of beast roaming the halls? Have the tiles become splattered with intestines? I could understand his motives if I were able to think straight.

At any rate, I don't think he views me as a person, rather, a disposable pawn to his success. My recovery is reversing, and my progress unravelling. The sessions with his torture device only bring agony and unstable opinions. A couple of days ago I forgot my name, luckily, I had my other entries to give that information. Occasionally, you can hear a cry of terror echo down the halls and jut through the harsh quiet. There goes one now. Trying to place a name to the screams is the only relieve from the all-consuming boredom of our quarantine. I think the last one was Milano's. It sounded angry.

I want to leave, but what chance does a guineapig have at escaping its cage? Only a fool hopes, and I am no fool.

14th of March, 12:34pm, From the Diary of Ms. Milano Garnis

Dr Vaughans has released us from his slaughterhouse. I don't have much else to say on the matter, other than the fact this sudden shift in behaviour is incredibly suspicious and worrisome. This must be part of his big picture, a trick, a scheme. I don't trust the man and I don't believe this is permanent.

15th of March, 5:01am, From the Log of Dr. Vaughans

I released the denizens back into society. Yes, they might try to incriminate me, but anything they say will be brushed off as part of my methods. I had to let them go, having collected all the intelligence I originally needed. What I was doing afterwards was cruel, driven by some frenzy of curiosity and madness. How could I allow myself to fall into such darkness?

Despite my epiphany regarding the ethics of this program, I still lust for answers. Due to this, I have decided to use myself as the subject of my experiments. I have no other choice, no other humane route to the completion of my research. I have started to wonder whether the accusations the denizens made of me held any truth. I've become paranoid. Paranoid of this project and ones to come. I went too far this time, what's stopping me from doing it again?

At what point does something become immoral if it's done in the name of science? 

---

Artemis and Athena set down the pages, a scuttling issuing from the mostly shrouded in darkness room. Athena leaned forwards, eyes narrowing against the dark.

"Ali," Artemis whispered. "Is that you?" No response came back, and the two tensed as two bugged silver eyes shone at them from low in the darkness, any sanity having long been lost. A snap filled the silence, and Artemis was soon brandishing a fire towards the eyes, illuminating the rest of his maddened features. The flickering light revealed a countenance that once might have been handsome had it not been soiled by sin and time, and wispy grey streaked with black. The corners of his mouth oiled their way up the sides of his face, creepily completing the creature's appearance. His grey lab coat was torn, holed, and became notably darker at the ends, and he tilted his head from his position on the floor.

"Who are you?" Athena demanded, staring down this by-product. He made strange clicked sounds in the back of his throat as he drew to his true height, Not by any modern standards tall, but not short either. 

"Who..." he began, voice cracked and rough from misuse. "Are... you?" He inspected them intimidating, sizing them up with what appeared to be coherent thought. Another set of footsteps entered the room, and they turned to see Ali entering, holding a small leather bound notebook. Her face soured as she took in the situation.

"Nicholas," she spat bitterly. "Have all those years of self-experimentation finally caught up with you?" His grin narrowed and nearly extended to his ears as he saw her. 

"Ali-" Artemis began.

"Ali," The once-man interrupted, leering in misplaced delight. "Is... that what you're calling yourself... now?" The red-head bristled uncomfortably. "Tell me-" Ali grabbed Athena and Artemis's wrists.

"Come on," she said forcefully. "We're leaving." She stalked out of the destroyed laboratory and down the spider-webbed corridor. 

"That's right... walk away!" He jeered at them down the halls. "I wouldn't... expect anything less... from my star pupil-" His mockery was lost to the asylum as the ground became soft and green around the trio's feet and the sun shone on their backs. Ali slammed the door shut.

"What's in the notebook? Is that what we came here for?" Artemis asked awkwardly, gesturing at the book in question.

"Nothing," she grumbled back. "Just an addition for my own notebook. We better hurry along."

Athena nodded. "She's right, we have a science assignment due tomorrow." The three hurried back to school, deciding to ask questions later. 

I have no clue what this. I'm in this? I don't like that fact. Anyway. Please tell me what you think and what you think is going on. Hopefully this was coherent? 

Anyway, Athena Danger belongs to Athena_Danger and Artemis Pendragon belongs to Artemis_P. Go follow them, they're awesome.