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SYSTEM INITIATED:
Simulation 3: Subject Trey O'Malley
Simulation Parameters: Severe Psychological Response Expected — Subject's Trauma Intensified
Commencing Simulation...
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Trey appears in a quiet suburban garden, holding a gardening machine, the kind used for cutting grass or shrubs. The sun is shining, and for a brief moment, he feels an odd sense of peace. But as he turns around to check the lawnmower, he notices something—an earthworm wriggling on the metal, its slimy body glistening.
He stares at it blankly, his breath hitching as a cold chill runs through him. A neighbor passes by, smiling and greeting him, but Trey doesn't respond. The neighbor gives him a confused look, but Trey's eyes are still fixated on the worm. The smile fades from the neighbor's face as they walk on, but Trey doesn't care. He's trapped.
As his gaze stays locked on the worm, a flash of memory hits him like a jolt of electricity. The past—he's back in a dark, suffocating place, his body bound by rope. The room is cold and damp. He sees the faces of his kidnappers. His breath quickens, his chest tightens, and his hands tremble as the flashback intensifies.
The kidnappers, ruthless and calculating, lower a large bucket filled with water and wriggling worms over him. The cruel laughter echoes in his ears as they explain, with a sadistic grin, that these worms are designed to crawl into his body to escape the heat of the water. They are placed under the fire's heat until it boils. He can feel them squirming around, itching under his skin, crawling inside his chest, his arms. It's unbearable.
The flashback is merciless. He can feel the dampness, the crawling creatures, as the worms squirm into his skin, burrowing deeper and deeper into his body. The panic builds. The terror claws at him from the inside out, pushing him closer to the edge.
*Snap.*
The flashback fades, but the terror lingers, amplified in the present. He blinks rapidly, eyes wide with fear. The worm on the gardening machine snaps him back to reality, but it's no comfort. The memory has already taken hold of him. In a frantic, desperate attempt to rid himself of the feeling, he grabs a nearby rock, his hands shaking violently, and starts smashing the worm with it. He doesn't stop, not even when the machine starts to crack, nearly broken under his assault.
His breathing is shallow. His hands are raw, but it's not enough. It's never enough.
Panicked, he runs into the house, his heart racing as he slams the door behind him. He dashes to the bathroom, trembling uncontrollably, desperate to wash the feeling off. The water runs, but it doesn't wash away the terror. He undresses, stepping into the shower as the warm water splashes against his skin, yet he can still feel them—the worms, crawling beneath his skin, moving in the dampness of his hair, his arms. His eyes widen as he frantically scrubs himself clean, but the feeling doesn't go away.
Suddenly, he feels them in his hair. The sensation sends a jolt of panic through him, the pressure building like a vise around his chest. His breath becomes ragged, erratic. He rushes to the mirror, staring at his reflection. His pulse quickens as he frantically scans his scalp, looking for the worms.
But he sees nothing.
He stumbles backward, his vision blurring as the terror takes hold. *There's nothing there.* He wipes his hands over his face, still feeling them. The worms are crawling down his face, under his skin. His hands shake as he reaches for a knife from the kitchen drawer, the blade cold against his fingers.
He returns to the bathroom, the knife trembling in his grip. In front of the mirror, he begins hacking at his hair, cutting and slashing at the non-existent worms. But in the reflection, the worms are still there—crawling down his face, burrowing beneath his scalp. They won't stop.
He's trapped in his own mind, suffocating under the weight of his trauma. He slashes at his face, desperate to rid himself of them, but they keep coming, crawling, invading. *No matter how hard he tries, they never stop.*
His scream echoes through the house as he throws the knife in a fit of pure, unrelenting terror. It bounces off the mirror, the sharp blade digging into the glass and shattering it into jagged pieces. The knife ricochets, piercing his skull with a sickening thud.
Trey collapses, his body crumpling to the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. The last thing he sees is his reflection—broken, his eyes wide open in horror. He doesn't feel the warmth of the blood. He doesn't feel the death that creeps in.
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SYSTEM COMPLETE:
Simulation 3: Subject Trey O'Malley — Trauma Trigger Executed
Results: Subject Dead — Immediate Termination Required
Simulation Over.
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