Forsaken Souls - Finale

Chapter IV - The Truth

“Let me read it”, pleaded Nathan in agony, as his old friend, Lieutenant Sergeant Thomas Matheson from Scotland Yard, retrieved a letter from Dr. Ziegler's safe. Thomas nodded solemnly and handed him the letter. Nathan's hands shook as he unfolded it and began to read aloud, his voice trembling.

“You were right, Nathan. I honestly couldn't believe it. But you've always had great instincts.”, said Thomas and then ordered his men: “Go secure the patients and arrest all personnel. Find Dr. Ziegler, he should be in his home at this hour”. Nathan ran behind them to find Jasmine. An hour later, Dr. Ziegler and every member of the staff were being taken away to the police station, while patients were being transferred to a safer facility. Hawksley Asylum stood silent and still, its once bustling halls now eerily empty, void of any life. Yet, this emptiness was the best Hawksley had seen for a very long time.

Seven weeks later

Dr. Adam Ziegler sat in his cell, his mind wandering from one thought to the other. As he stared at the four walls that confined him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief, knowing that he could no longer inflict any harm to his patients in Hawksley. Despite the haunting awareness that his other personalities, the rest of his alters, could still cause him pain, he found solace in the fact that they were no longer a threat to the vulnerable souls that have been under his care until recently.

It had been years since he first noticed the whispers, the faint murmurs that danced on the edge of his consciousness. At first, he had dismissed them as nothing more than the echoes of a restless mind, the byproduct of his tireless dedication to his science. But the whispers soon grew louder, and more insistent.

It was the March of 1916 when the co-founder of Hawksley, Dr. James Coleman, started suspecting that his dear friend was showing signs of Multiple Personality Disorder. He tried to get him to undergo treatment, but Dr. Ziegler refused. The two men got into a big fight. A few days later, Dr. Coleman drew his last breath when his car took a wrong turn on the slippery road, a few miles outside the asylum.

Dr. Ziegler brought his memory back to that day. He was devastated and lost when the police inspector told him the news over the phone. At the same time, however, he realised that his secret was once again safe. Determined and brilliant as he was, at that very moment he decided to run the institution alone and hide the truth about his disease behind his authority and medical expertise. He told the staff he would be trying a revolutionary methodology, where he presents to the patients as different doctors. The promise was to radically help the patients get better, and for it to work, nobody outside the asylum's walls could know. The nurses, trusting their superior, agreed to play along and keep it a secret, vowing to never speak about this again.

By that time, the six alters had fully made their appearance, composing Ziegler's fragmented personality. Each alter emerged like a spectre from the shadows, a twisted reflection of the doctor's own fears and past traumas. As these alters appeared one by one, the rest had to give room into Ziegler's life.

The Alters

Dr. Ziegler's elaborate disguises—wigs, fake beards, glasses, different clothing, even a fake limp—were all part of a charade to maintain the illusion of distinct individuals. The nurses, trusting and unaware of the full extent of his condition, believed they were participating in a groundbreaking experimental treatment method and kept his secret.

The Book

Dr. Ziegler felt the power of his alters growing stronger and stronger. One of them in particular, Dr. Cohen, developed a pattern of deliberately misdiagnosing patients. During every odd month, the first patient that got admitted on a Monday was falsely registered by Dr. Cohen as suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder, the very disease that Zeigler had in reality. Ziegler, having access to the consciousness of Cohen, found out and confronted him, in an verbal outburst that took place behind the closed doors of Cohen's office. Dr. Finnegan also surfaced and joined the confrontation, threatening Ziegler and the patients in extremely violent ways if he tried to tell anyone. The night shift nurses that could faintly hear the voices from outside the office were left worried and extremely puzzled.

The next day, Ziegler could barely get out of bed. He was desperate, trying to think of ways to expose the truth without risking anyone's life. Although most of the time his other alters didn't have access to his consciousness and memories, occasionally Finnegan and McKenzie could get a glimpse of Ziegler's psyche fragments, as he found out the hard way.

This was a dire threat, one that Ziegler wasn't willing to risk. Then it struck him. He'd always have a love for puzzles, and a very sharp mind to craft them. He could hide clues inside the puzzles, clues that could lead someone to the truth. In order to conceal his intentions to the other alters as much as possible, he decided to involve the patients. He would start a project, an experimental therapy where Hawksley's Multiple Personality Disorder patients get to put their minds together to create a book full of puzzles; Caroline LeRoux could even do the illustrations. Without them knowing, they would be creating this façade for letting out his big secret.

The Resolution

Two years passed, and the book was finally finished. “Beyond the Ward: Hawksley's Puzzle Collective”—that's what Dr. Ziegler named it. He self-published it and only printed a few copies, which he kept in his safe. Just short of a year later, Jasmine Bloom stepped into Hawksley, accompanied by her fiancé, Detective Nathan Reed, and Ziegler saw the perfect opportunity.

As Dr. Adam Ziegler sat in his cell, his mind wandered from one thought to another. He came back to this moment — the moment he managed to amass the courage to put the book in the detective's bag. How different this was from the many years of deception, the intricate web of lies he had spun to hide his illness. He remembered how weak he had felt when he first refused treatment from his friend, Dr. Coleman. He wanted to attribute everything to the instinct of survival, a desperate attempt to maintain control over his fractured mind and body. But the reality was that he was merely a coward; nothing more than a coward, selfishly considering his own situation instead of his patients and the oath he had given.

He caught himself clenching his fists, his fingernails leaving deep red marks on the inside of his palms, and all his facial muscles straining. Ignoring the pain, he lay down on the iron bed, letting a few deep breaths enter his lungs. His eyelids softly closed, the tension in his muscles slowly dissipating. He brought his mind to the present day and contemplated what he had achieved. His former patients were now surely somewhere better, away from harm. With that thought, a subtle smile appeared on his face, and a sense of calm conquered his body.

Just a few seconds later, a chilling sound broke the silence. It was the sinister laughter of Dr. McKenzie. In the split second it took for the alter transition to take place, Ziegler's consciousness caught that. His body tensed once again and his pupils dilated as he recognized the voice of his most unpredictable alter. The laughter grew louder, echoing off the cell walls, followed by the sound of McKenzie banging his head against the cell's small door window. First slowly and then gradually faster and faster, until reaching a frequency that would make even the most experienced psychiatrist, or the biggest cynic, wince in agony. Blood started to drip from the wound, pooling on the floor, inside and outside the cell. The alarm sounded, a shrill, urgent cry that sent the psychiatric facility personnel rushing to Ziegler. The chaos outside mirrored the turmoil within Ziegler's mind.

In that moment, Dr. Adam Ziegler realized how the rest of his life would be — a haunting reminder of the darkness he had tried, and failed, to control. Or perhaps the "rest of his life" was a big overstatement to begin with.