Over the Brink Pt. 2 "Breakdown"

Journal Entry, November 13th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
I have not made an entry to my Journal for a month, and it is because of the chaos previously upstanding Ashley Eire has brought unto this facility. On the day of his review, before I could even address his concerns, he flew into hysterics, attacking me, and has become a danger to himself and the staff. I have transcribed the audio recording of our conversation for peer review.

Dr. Edwards: Hello again Ashley, it has been awhile since we sat down to chat like this.

Mr. Eire: That it has. I hope you don't mind that I've refused your offers of discharge from this institution.

Dr. Edwards: Certainly not, now that I have come across the source of your discontent.

Mr. Eire: I don't think you have Dr. Edwards. I believe that if you did, you would be in one of these padded cells with me.

Dr. Edwards: After searching your possessions, we found a pocket watch with your book…

Mr. Eire: It's not really a book so much as a hobby.

Dr. Edwards: Well it seems very professional, the illustrations are quite explicit.

Mr. Eire: Illustrations? I don't recall any illustrations.

Dr. Edwards: Really? Perhaps you have a firmer constitution, because I almost wretched at the sight of some deformed ghoul dining on human flesh.

Mr. Eire: …We are talking about my cooking notes correct?

Dr. Edwards: (laughter) No of course not Mr. Eire. Your other book. The one with the strange symbols. It seemed like you had translated some of it. Surely you must have picked it up somewhere in your travels…

Mr. Eire: The book is here!?

Dr. Edwards: No need to shout Mr. Eire, I assure you the book is safe…

Mr. Eire: …how is the book here...it was destroyed…I watched it…in the fires of that pit…

(indecipherable)

Mr. Eire: How did you come upon it!

Dr. Edwards: Please sir, restrain yourself. I can assure you that it is in the same condition in which you brought it in.

(Screaming)

Mr. Eire: That witch! Damn her! I burned it just as it was to be done!

Dr. Edwards: Please! Mr. Eire! Calm yourself!

Mr. Eire: Destroy it! Cast the book into a fire stoked green with sulfur! It is a blight on this planet…

Dr. Edwards: There is no need to become aggressive…

(It is at this point that Mr. Eire grabbed me by the throat and forced me to the floor)

Mr. Eire: It has followed me here. I cannot sleep, for dreams are the hunting grounds of imps and ghouls. And yet waking I find my dreams follow me to my days! Now you listen, good man. Good, good man. His avatars will be born in flesh, and take more than your mind, lest that book and I make ourselves scarce. Damn her…she was right. It cannot be destroyed. It will not let itself be erased. Its agents are making ready here on earth. Its eyes are lidless, unblinking, and everywhere. I am the beacon that will lead it through the portal to our reality. I am the harbinger of its coming. And I'm afraid, Dr. Edwards, that I must take my leave of you.

(It is now that I have pressed the emergency button beneath my desk, and Mr. Eire is restrained, escorted to the highest level cell of the ward. The tape ends here)

Clearly I should have looked into this case more earnestly. It has become apparent that he sensed his weakening sanity, checking himself into this institution as a bulwark against the coming storm. I cannot help but feel regret that I did not realize the depth of Mr. Eire's instability upon his entrance to this facility. He has become unmanageable, and dangerous. At least five times since the incident, he has managed to escape his cell. Once he was found standing over a nurse with a scalpel, threatening to gut her, and wear her gizzard as a grotesque diadem. And again, he managed to escape the ward, making his way down to the storage room before being found out. Security reported finding him in a state of undress crouched above the now ubiquitous book, writing alien invocations into his skin with the only available utensil, an aluminum shank pried from a rusty can of peas. They attempted to bring him to the medical wing to treat the cuts, but before he could even be restrained the flesh healed over the incisions, creating lines of scarred script wrapping around his limbs and trunk. Almost every night, screams can be heard throughout the halls, his shouts speaking of grim portents and dire prophecy. In each scenario, he immediately becomes compliant when any kind of tranquilizer was threatened. He appears unwavering in his conviction to maintain consciousness, as warped a mind it may be. Who knows what kinds of demons reside in that man's soul, but I am determined to keep him free from society until they are pacified.

November 20th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
Despite the consistent hell being raised by Mr. Eire on a daily basis, he has ceased screaming in the nights. However, the watch reports that though he is quiet, he remains awake throughout the evening, occasionally questioning them on the conditions of the outside, followed by entreaties to allow him to be discharged with the book. That book, it does seem to be the source of his troubles. Though his obliviousness to fact it was even in his possession is unexplainable, I will look into it, and question him on its origins. This will be interesting to see unfold.