NOTICE: This is a sequel, not a standalone. For the most enjoyable reading experience, please read "Watched: The Beginning" prior to starting this.
I couldn't take it any longer. I wouldn't let this go on any longer. I had to turn myself in. Slowly, deliberately, I dragged myself to my feet, shook of my depressed stupor, and proceeded to wash up and get dressed. Not sure of how a murderer turning himself in should look, I put on a black suit, and grabbed the DVD. I wrote a note to no one in particular, saying I would not be coming back home. I put it on the door, and began to walk down the street. I felt that same strange chill, like I was being watched. I shook it off and continued down to the police station.
About a block away from the station, I heard tires squeal around the corner. I turned to see a van screech to a halt and a man getting out of it. He ran straight at me, hit me, and dragged me inside. I was hit on the head, and passed out.
I woke up and found myself stripped down to my boxers and strapped to a steel table. There were electrodes and IVs running everywhere; I felt like a pincushion. Looking around, I saw this was some sort of medical lab. It was like something out of a bad movie. Four cameras were pointed at me, all watching me. Recording my every move. And there was that same feeling. It was unsettling to say the least. Suddenly, the IV control machine to my left beeped and whirred to life, pumping some strange liquid into my veins. I felt myself getting drowsy. THe last thing I saw before I blacked out was the face of a man in a lab coat. I will never forget that face. It was full of hatred. Evil.
Pure evil...
