West Park Asylum

Dawn clutches her duffle bag as she stands on the small pier and gazes at the distant mainland. It looks so much like another world that the nervous brunette wonders if it is another of her hallucinations. She bites into her thumb and lets the pain clear her mind, a habit that she hopes will be eliminated at Raven’s Hold. Sucking on the bleeding digit, Dawn is mildly happy to see that everything around her is real and her mind is not playing its usual tricks on her. With a little more confidence, the young woman clicks the heels of her sneakers and turns to face her new home.

What Dawn sees is not the ivy-covered, creepy asylum that she expected. Two male attendants in white stand at the beginning of a red brick walkway. Neatly trimmed hedges run along the sides and end a few feet away from the front door. Aside from the simple columns that hold up a triangle patio roof, the entrance looks surprisingly mundane. The edge of a forest can be seen in the distance, but there is a basketball court and a long field between the wilderness and Raven’s Hold. The windows on the second and third floor have bars while those on ground level remain unhindered. Then again, being on an island does not give an escapee many places to run to unless they wish to stay in the forest.

Escorted by the smiling men, Dawn tries her best to find something wrong with the building and satisfy her anxiety. The asylum is so quiet and normal that her mind adds broken windows and a whirling weathervane to the scene. These hallucinations have little effect since the young woman knows they are fake from the beginning. She considers that the perfect of serenity might be the illusion while she is really walking into a building born from every horror movie ever created. It is a possibility as she remembers imagining eating a piece of candy that turned out to be a former coworkers arm. Dawn shudders at the memory and stops more from rising to the surface of her mind. The last thing she wants is to have one of her breakdowns at the front door of these people who have offered to help.

“Welcome to Raven’s Hold, Ms. Addison,” says a cheerful blonde in a black pants suit. The woman pushes her glasses up her nose and holds the door open for Dawn. “My name is Dr. Grace Rutherford and I am in charge of this special ward. The orderlies will take your belongings to your new room while I give you a tour. Please tell me if you feel overwhelmed and wish to go somewhere quiet to gather your thoughts. You already look very distressed and I don’t want to push you on your first day.”

“Why am I here?” Dawn numbly asks, averting her hazel eyes from the doctor. She snatches her bag from the attendant and hugs it to her chest. “I mean, I know why a person like me needs to be in a place like this. I’m crazy and dangerous. I see things that aren’t there and lash out at them. That’s why I have medicines and . . . why I stay away from people. What I want to know is why you invited me here?”

“You are at Raven’s Hold because you need help that other places cannot give you,” Grace answers, gesturing for the two men to leave. She gently closes the door, forcing Dawn to move a little further into the foyer. “Ms. Addison, I have my colleagues around the world. They tell me of those who are being failed by the systems that are supposed to help. People like you who need specialized, unique help. If you ever feel like you don’t belong here then you are free to tell me and I will call for a boat to bring you back to the mainland. All I ask now is that you let me give you a tour.”

Dawn takes in the beige walls and brown carpeting, the colors probably chosen due to their blandness. A door with a keypad is on her right and she peers through the narrow window to see the office staff hard at work. Faint music can be heard from down the hall where the door to the patients’ area stands ajar. The two chairs in the foyer seem to twist and walk toward her when she feels her anxiety grow stronger. For a brief moment, Dawn swears she hears something crawling through the walls. She jumps when the light fixture shifts and the dangling crystals clink against each other. Blinking her eyes, the young woman sees that the movement is not part of her hallucinations.

“Squirrels from the woods get into building,” the doctor mentions with a warm smile. She adjusts her glasses again and takes a seat, her action inadvertently allowing Dawn to regain her hold on reality. “I can see that you are confused, Ms. Addison. You have spent the last three years going from one psychological ward to another. For some time you were homeless and you never hold a job for long. I would say more, but this is not the proper place to discuss your situation. Perhaps it is best that I escort you to your room and we will do the tour after lunch or tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe we can walk outside,” Dawn timidly suggests. The doorknob is already moving as the doctor reaches for it, but the motion is so quick that she is sure it was nothing. “You know I killed someone, right? If I stay then I should be put in isolation.”

“That is a request that I cannot agree to,” Grace replies as they walk along the grass. She waves to a few patients who are in the distant yard, the small group watching the bees zip among a bed of tulips. “We have group therapy sessions and part of our mission is to help you return to society. For that, you need to interact with others. Our staff will always be watching in the public rooms, so you will not be a danger to anyone. Besides, we both know why you killed and you were minor at the time.”

“He was still my brother.”

“It sounds like you need our therapy sessions.”

“I know he . . . did stuff to me, but he was family.”

“This is not really the place to speak of such things, Ms. Addison.”

“Then my parents disowned me,” Dawn continues, barely remembering that the doctor is with her. Her eyes become glassy and she stops walking, her arms going limp and dropping her duffle bag on the ground. “He touched me and hurt me, but they refused to believe me. Nobody ever believes me unless they’re paid to do that. Then they give me medication to make me feel better, but it doesn’t really help. It only hides the pain and the dreams still come out unless I take so much that I can’t get out of bed. All of this is in my file, which everybody seems to find out about because insane Dawn is too dangerous to work with. Don’t let her near the paper shredder or she might stick her tongue into it. Make sure not to let the big bosses see her when they visit, so send her somewhere else. She should just kill herself, but she’s too terrified to even make an attempt.”

The world around Dawn warps and shudders as her stressed mind plunges into a psychotic episode. Distant trees step out of the ground and pull axes out of their branches before marching toward her. Clouds turn red and rain blood across the landscape, the sweet-smelling liquid making everything sticky. Screeching birds flit across the sky and dive to be devoured by carnivorous mushrooms that sprout from the grass. The group of patients have transformed into a multi-headed blob that oozes toward the building. With vile burps and sputters, the gelatinous creature bloats to engulf the entire asylum and screaming skeletons drift out of the dissolving windows.

“Make them go away,” Dawn whimpers, curling into a ball. She feels a sharp pain in her neck before the hallucinations fade and she is overtaken by a soothing darkness. “Just let me fade away.”

Grace puts the empty syringe back into her pocket and takes her phone off her belt. “This is Dr. Rutherford. I need two orderlies to retrieve Ms. Addison. Have them be female and bring a wheelchair in case she wakes up from the sedative before they get her to the room. Yes, I know the board wants a decision on this one by tomorrow. That gives us the rest of the day and tonight to finish our examination. I’m well aware that this is a higher risk than our previous patients, but this is not about us. We want what is best for Ms. Addison and I still feel that she will become stronger at Raven’s Hold. Then the donors can talk to me directly. Now send those orderlies, so I can make my midmorning rounds. Thank you.”

Not wanting to leave her new patient unattended, Grace jots down notes in Dawn’s file while waiting for the orderlies. She frowns when she sees the medication suggestions that her colleagues sent her, the dosages seeming ridiculously high to her. By the time the orderlies have arrived with the wheelchair, the doctor is lost in her thoughts about how best to help the young brunette. She waits for the two women to secure Dawn in the wheelchair and heads for the building when she is sure they have everything under control. Instead of the front door, Grace walks to the cafeteria’s side entrance where two of the office staff are having their smoke break. Distracted by a brief conversation about ordering new supplies, the doctor reaches for the door handle and nearly screams when she touches something warm and sticky.

“What is this?” Grace asks as she yanks her hand back. She examines the strange ooze that is dripping from her fingers and the doorknob. “I guess Mrs. Serran has a bottle of hair gel hidden in her room again.”