My blood chills and I let the tile slap down causing Mr Morka to jerk his body around and yell something unintelligible into the phone. I hear crashing and movement and suddenly a large ice pick comes through the tile beside me, weakening the support system my body is perched on and I crash down to the floor losing consciousness.
I wake with a start, in bed, still dressed in my pajamas, light streaming through my window gently soothing sleeps dark story. I roll over and let out a soft groan, the memories still so real, I can still feel the rush of wind as I fall from the ceiling, I can see the rusted point of a menacing ice pick pierce the crumbling fiberglass tile beside my head and it shakes me to my very core.
Life continues and the hospital is oblivious to what is lurking beneath the surface. I can find no trace of what I know to be true, but each time I happen across the dimly lit workshop Mr Morka gives me an odd smile and twirls his ice pick innocently...