The Devil Within: The Devil Within, #1

By T.R. Slauf

In 1886, widowed psychiatrist Dr. Wilhelm Grey, Questions his sanity as mysterious events plague his hospital. A new patient tempts his mortal soul, while a maniac mocks his pain. When his eldest daughter is mutilated, he searches for answers, allowing his vengeance to feed his wrath.

He reaches his breaking point when a patient dies in a freak accident, and a maniac set loose on the grounds.

Has he gone mad as his patients, or is something more sinister afoot?

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.R. Slauf
• Release date: Feb 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9781734917727

T.R. Slauf

T.R. Slauf was born and raised in Michigan, originally studying and working in the field of Biochemistry. After having open-heart surgery for congenital heart disease, Slauf changed career paths to pursue the passion of storytelling and published their debut novel, Hidden Realm two years later. Slauf now lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with their spouse and two cats.

Book preview

The Devil Within

A Horror Novella

T.R. Slauf

Copyright © 2020 T.R. Slauf

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781734917727

Cover design by: T.R. Slauf

Edited by: Wordsmith Editing

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

August 14, 1886

August 15, 1886

August 19, 1886

August 20, 1886

August 21, 1886

About The Author

Books By This Author

August 14, 1886

Lonely screams and empty moans echoed off the tile floors, filling the empty corridor. Solitary rays of golden morning sunlight fought their way through the small windows. Dust danced in the light between the long, thin shadows where the bars on the windows obscured the pure golden rays from entering. Nothing pure belonged in here.

Opening the grate in the thick door, Wilhelm was assaulted by the stench of stale urine and unwashed bodies. The inhabitant of the room looked up. His eyes were wide. Red lines shot across the whites and encroached upon the blue irises. Crooked and rotting teeth showed brown beneath his manic smile. The patient began to laugh, thick strings of saliva falling down his dirty face.

Morning, Doctor! His body trembled on the sleeping mat. What good soul are we to torture today?

I have told you before, Mr. Dunham, it is not torture. I am trying to cure you of your madness. Checking the notes in his hand, Wilhelm spoke in an even tone. Your treatments today are scheduled for just before lunch, so I suggest you eat your entire breakfast this morning, Mr. Dunham.

Treatment? What treatment am I to receive at your hands today, Dr. Grey?

Based on your reactions to my previous treatments, I believe a cold treatment will do you well.

No! The patient lunged at Wilhelm through the door, beating himself against it. No! No, I don’t want it!

Please compose yourself, Mr. Dunham. If you continue this behavior, I will have no choice but to have the orderlies restrain you.

The patient wailed. Howls of a dying animal filled the corridors. He threw himself at his door, smashing his face against the cold metal grate. Crimson pooled on his brow, trickling down the side of his face.

Wilhelm yelled for the orderlies. The patient needed to be restrained immediately before he caused further damage to himself. Wilhelm watched from the hallway through the open door while the orderlies wrestled his patient into a restrictive coat.

Once satisfied his patient was in good hands, Wilhelm continued down the corridor. The voice of Mr. Dunham followed him down the empty halls.

Devil! You’re the devil, Dr. Grey! The devil!

Turning his notes over Wilhelm stopped, opening the grate on the last door of his rounds.

Good morning, Mr. Strewer. Will you be eating for us today?

The young man cleared his throat, a glop of brown phlegm landing on the tile floor.

Hello, my good Doctor. I hear you upset my dear neighbor today. Would you like me to kill him for you?

No, Mr. Strewer. You are not to lay a hand on any of the other patients or the hospital staff. You know this.

Oh, but Doctor, I’ve been so good during my treatments. And-and yesterday, I ate my meals!

Yes, you did. You made good progress yesterday, Mr. Strewer.

Such good progress I deserve a reward! The patient came to the door, pressing his eager face into the metal bars. Oh yes, Doctor, a reward…

Mr. Strewer, Wilhelm warned, fixing his patient with a hard glare.

Please, Doctor. Oh please, just one.

Mr. Strewer, the only reason the district attorney didn’t see you at the end of a rope is because I implored him to let me treat you. The patient whined in response, rubbing his face against the grate. While in my care, if you are to harm anyone the district attorney will force me to relinquish you to be hanged. Is that what you want, Mr. Strewer?

I want! the patient wailed in frustration. I want to cut flesh! I want to pull the soft, warm meat from its bones. To feel the warmth of life, thick and crimson, flowing over me once again.

Mr. Strewer, you were making such good progress. Don’t spoil it now.

The patient’s pleas morphed into incoherent cries of bitter anger.

Exasperated, Wilhelm hung his head. Taking a quick glance at his notes he turned away from his patient, walking back to his office. Leaving the cold tile halls of the second floor, he traveled past rooms of dark woods and rich carpeting on the ground level. In one were large chairs surrounded by shelves of books. In another were small tables and a large phonograph. The library and parlor were always empty at this hour. 

Passing the empty rooms, Wilhelm walked the halls until they again turned to sterile tiles, barred windows, and lonely screams. Deep in the back western corner sat a closet that was converted into an office. Just large enough for a desk, the room was stuffed with floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets.

Unlocking the door, Wilhelm returned the key to his breast pocket and checked his pocket watch. It was almost half-past seven; he had time enough to make notes before