Patient Name: Jensen, Sandra

Age: 37

Gender: Female

Diagnosis: Hemophobia, the fear of blood

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The following is the transcript of official satement of Michael [REDACTED], Wawa Shift Manager, at the store located at the corner of Myrtle St. and N Washington Blvd. in [REDACTED], Florida. Witness statement was recorded and transcribed herein. Events took place 19 October 2018 at 02:19. Patient tracking chip malfunctioned and believed to be defective. Patient was recognized by global facial recognition software scans. On the advice of Dr. Blackwood, her activity was monitored prior to reapprehension. All video harddrives confiscated. Physical evidence of these events were altered according to field notes submitted in record 771988 by Agent 77.

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Transcript of Witness Statement

It was a slow night. Most nights we get pretty busy around two in the morning when the bars let out, and while this did all happen very early Friday morning, you have to remember it was still Thursday night for most people. Typically, the rush of people leaving the bar doesn’t happen when people have to work in the morning. That’s more of a weekend thing.

I arrived for my shift at 11:00 pm Thursday, like I normally do, it was pretty quiet. We had the usual handful of late-night regulars. A couple guys leaving restaurant jobs–there’s a guy comes in around 1:00 am every night of the week like clockwork. All he buys is a pack of cigarettes…normal stuff. During the week, the late night crowd is usually pretty predictable.

I never could have predicted that lady–what did you say her name was? Sandra? Out of her goddamn mind…but not just that. The whole thing was like something out of a Stephen King book or something.

How much do you remember of what happened?

Well I mean it just happened about a half an hour ago, so most of it. I guess.

Wawa’s a pretty popular chain, so you guys know that we do the regular gas station stuff, but it’s also a sandwich shop. We don’t ever feel in that much danger of robberies or anything because you’re almost never inside the place alone. Mostly, what we have to deal with is stealing. I can deal with shoplifters. How was I supposed to deal with something like this?

Mr. [REDACTED], we need to know the events that transpired, please.

Yea sure, I’m sorry. Tim [REDACTED] and Janine [REDACTED] were behind the sandwich counter when this all started.

And what time would you say that was?

I think it was around 2 am. I’m not really sure. She ran up through the fog, must have come from out there by the road. I didn’t realize there was anything wrong at first. She cut across, between the pumps and that’s when I could hear her wailing through the front windows before she came inside. They were rattling like crazy.

Rattling?

The windows. Like they were going to break.

Did you hear what she was saying?

At that time, no. She wasn’t saying anything. Just screaming. She came running into the entrance like something was after her. That’s when I noticed the blood: covered from the palms of her hands up past her elbows, like she’d dunked her hands in a bucket of it. Somehow, she didn’t seem to have much of it on her clothes…it was–strange. Whatever the source, it must have been recent–still wet–she left a huge smear of it on the glass of the door and there’s a steady drip of it down onto the floor in front of her. She held her arms away from her like she was afraid of them.

Tim came out from behind the sandwich counter. I think he’d been cutting onions. In the shock of it, he was still carrying the knife.

“HELP ME!” She said. Her eyes looked wild. That’s when I realized she was probably on drugs. Tim reached out to comfort her with his free hand…

“Janine,” he said, “get 911 on the phone.”

She went berserk.

“Noooooooooo! They’ll just take me back there!”

She took the knife out of Tim’s hand and stabbed him. She stabbed him over and over and over.

He has a kid at home…two months old…

(Audible Sigh)

Do you need a moment Mr. [REDACTED]?

No. No. I think I’ll be alright. All the while, she seemed to be getting more and more panicked. The shelves started shaking.

From her screaming?

I think so, but It wasn’t like you think, they were shaking like the bed in The Exorcist. Like weird demonic shit. I put my hands over my ears as chip and candy bags were exploding and everything inside was flying out and away from her. She wasn’t touching them. Nobody was touching them. A couple of the shelves crashed over and I thought I’d go deaf from the screaming alone, even with my ears covered–so–I–I’m not proud of what I did next. When some of the cooler doors started to crack into pieces, I ran. I freaked out and locked myself in the office. I watched the rest of it on the security monitor inside and through the window. It’s shatter-proof.

That seems pretty rational.

Janine was still out in the store.

Oh.

Janine made a dash for the office and she made it to the door, but I wouldn’t open it. God, why didn’t I open it? I saw over her shoulder that the woman was crossing the floor towards her. I think Janine could tell by the look on my face. She spun around.

I don’t know how she did it, but I saw it happen with my own eyes: Janine’s head collapsed in on itself from that woman’s screams. Splattered all over the office window like a broken egg. I watched the rest of it through streaks of blood and bits of graymatter slowly streaking down the glass. It looked like rotten meat scraps.

That woman, Sandra, was screaming about the blood.

“So much blood!” she said over and over. It didn’t make any sense. If this was all about the blood on her arms, why did she stab Tim? How did she do that to Janine? They were only trying to help her.

She calmed down a little bit before you guys got there, but she wasn’t ever calm really. That’s why I stayed put in the office, peeking glances through that window as infrequently as I could. She wandered around the store basically having a meltdown. She went behind the sandwich counter, I saw her on the CC TV monitor–washing her hands over and over, steam rising from the sink, but it didn’t seem like the blood was washing away at all.

“Why won’t it come off?!” she shouted, looking up into the camera, following the question with one of those screams. It cracked the camera lens that time. After, it was like watching half a dozen of her through a kaleidoscope “I know you’re watching.” Six images of her looked back at me through the security monitor. “I had to do it you know. I’m not fucking going back there, so screw you and screw anybody else who tries to make me.” She shuddered then, still futily attempting to come clean, “How was I supposed to know they’d have so much blood in them?!”

“Oh. I can’t wash it away because it’s coming out of my fuckin poresssss. Great.” She said it like it was somehow both an epiphany and a children’s song at the same time. Then she began laughing like a madwoman “…ha ha haaaawww ahhhhhh ahhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” The laughs blended intro feral howls. Everything seemed to shake again. That’s when I turned off the monitor and curled down under the desk in the office but I could still hear her muttering something to herself.

Did you hear what it was?

Something that sounded like “Skinner.” and “Fuck you, you fuckin bastards, fuck you.” Things like that over and over to herself. What causes a person to be like that? To disconnect from reality that much?

As her healthcare provider, I am not at liberty to discuss her condition.

Well how did she do all of that stuff with just the sound of her voice? How is that possible?

I can’t speak to that either, Mr. [REDACTED]. HIPAA regulations.

I think the shock of it really got to me after that because I don’t remember much of anything else before you guys arrived. I have no idea how she ended up covering herself in toilet paper and rolling around on the floor behind the register. There were other people though weren’t there? I saw them on the way out–the ones you walked me past when you found me. Who were they?

We don’t have a positive ID on all of them yet.

How many others?

Three.

The high school kid–probably out past his curfew–I know that kid. His name is John Harris. I’m friends with his brother, Luke. I don’t know who the other two were, but I think I recognized him.

I’m responsible for this. I was responsible for stopping her.

If you’d have left that room, you’d be just like they are right now.

The back of that kid John’s head was split open. Eyes melted down into jelly. Blood smeared all around him, like he’d flailed around. He didn’t die right away. This is my fault. They all died because I’m a coward. I think I’m gonna be sick.

Hmm. Well, thank you very much for your statement.

That’s it? Thank you? You’ve been smirking this whole time jotting shit in that notebook. What the fuck happened? You seem to know. I watched people die tonight. Don’t you think I deserve answers? What was she?

Have a good evening, Mr. [REDACTED].

Hey! Hey! Where are you going? I told you everything! You have the videos! I didn’t kill those people! I told you! Why am I still handcuffed to this fucking table?! You can’t just leave me in here! Hey!

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Record 771988

Field Report of Agent 77

Saturday, 20 October 2018 – 03:17

Upon completion of this interview, the witness was neutralized. The usual manner was not used as it would not have fit with the official event narrative for him to be found with any wounds. He was sedated and returned to the scene of the incident. Agents 39 & 41 seated the witness, still unconscious, in a chair behind the cash register. My doctored narrative was created with available footage. The task of execution was delegated to 39 & 41 due to my aversion and personal objections to the possibility exposing myself to any bloodborne pathogens that may have existed on scene.

With as many bodies as JS771985 left in her wake, creative means had to be employed for the evidence that was left to be found by local law enforcement. In collaboration with Dr. Blackwood, He and I determined to utilize “success-patient” RM583927, Marshall Roush (Diagnosis: Dystychiphobia, Status: Cured, and now currently on payroll) to create the new narrative at the scene. This was the first time that his unique talents have been utilized in staging, and I hope to be able to tap him for more work in the future.

Roush was fitted with facial prosthetics ensuring identification by neither witness nor recording device was possible.

The confiscated harddrives were replaced with altered copies showing footage on loop: the period between 2018-10-18, 11:13 when the witness, Michael [REDACTED] arrived for his shift to 2018-10-19, 02:18, moments before patient JS771985 arrived on scene. Periods where legitimate customers entered the establishment have been duly spliced out.

The new footage shows the cameras malfunctioning for approximately 74 seconds. In this “missing” time, a stolen 18-Wheeler Truck loses control in the road beyond the fueling pumps, Roush bails out through the driver door of the vehicle moments before it careens through the pumps and into the side of a load bearing wall. The explosion was spectacular and, in my opinion, some of our best work. The entire structure collapsed and in exterior cameras, the unidentifiable driver can be seen fleeing the wreckage.

Patient JS771985 has been returned to the facility. This was her first attempt to discharge herself, however, Dr. Blackwood believes that due to the recent rash of patient “self-discharge” she should be expedited into Phase 4 of her treatment. Tank 47 is currently being sterilized for use. Immersion therapy should begin as soon as the hogs are delivered and exsanguinated Monday.

-Agent 77