West Park Asylum

The solitary wing is still brightly lit, but the doors to each room are thicker and lack windows. Located on the third floor of Raven’s Hold, the windows to the outside world are locked and boarded up from the inside. Only a few weak beams of light can get through the spaces between the boards, which requires anyone within the room to depend on a ceiling lamp. The switch for the bolted down dome is in the hallway, so Ian and Jeremy have no control over when they are plunged into utter darkness. With only a bed and a trashcan, the two men feel more like prisoners instead of patients. Even the cheery drawings on the wall are of little comfort since the forest scenes remind them of the outside world.

“Can you hear me?” Ian asks, his mouth full of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was given. A grim-faced guard opens the door to take the paper plate and a cup of flat soda. “I was talking to Jeremy, but thanks. Hey, what do I do if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Push the white button, but you only get a trip once every four hours,” the staff member answers, her free hand patting the stun gun at her belt. “If you give us any trouble then we use these again. Dr. Rutherford may have you stay up here longer too, so don’t try to do anything foolish. Lights out in five minutes!”

“Go to hell!” Jeremy shouts from his room across the hall. His door shudders from a kick that is followed by a muffled curse of pain. “Both of you can go to hell. I didn’t do anything besides what Dawn told me to do. So she should be the one up here instead of me.”

“Probably a good thing that we don’t talk,” Ian mutters as the guard closes his door and locks it. The young man scratches his head and turns to stare at the boarded window. “When did this place get so many armed staff members? I don’t remember seeing more than three during my tour a month ago. Now they seem to be everywhere. Aside from Dawn’s outburst and Jeremy’s weekly fights, nothing has happened to require an increase in security.”

The light flickers off and Ian waits patiently for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. With barely anything in the room, he already knows approximately where the bed is sitting. Still, he takes some solace in the silence and the gradual appearance of the world around him. His fingers run along his arms, pausing at every old scar to allow him to remember the event that triggered his self-mutilation. Ian is proud that he has not had even a slight urge to cut himself for the last week and even longer since he has had a suicidal thought. For the first time in years, the young man believes he can be confident and mentally fit enough to survive society. With a yawn, he takes a few steps toward the bed and winces at the pressure on his split lip.

“The guards protect you from me,” the mysterious voice says from the shadows. A gurgling cackle tickles the back of Ian’s neck, causing him to shiver. “It has been a long time since I peeked in on you. Others are more fun to play with. You make me think. Do you still think there is fun in normal?”

“This has to be a prank by the staff members,” Ian whispers to himself as he crawls under the covers. The sensation of spiders running along his skin makes him whip the sheet off and he briefly sees the black dots before they disappear. “You’re obviously not a ghost. If you were then you would remember that I didn’t say that. I said there was no fun in being alone. I’ve seen enough movies and shows to know that ghosts don’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

“Because such things are always true,” the phantom chuckles while the trashcan is peeled like a banana. With a gentle grind on the floor, the remains spin and release a swarm of purple fireflies. “Are they calling me a ghost? I never claimed to be such a thing.”

“Then, what are you?”

“Something else.”

“Vague answer makes me think you’re pulling a prank on me.”

“Forced ignorance is a sin in my world.”

Two by two, pairs of yellow orbs appear around the room and Ian hears a chorus of flapping wings. The glowing insects that have filled the room vanish as the sound of snapping beaks rolls from the shadows. A feather softly glides across his forehead and leaves a burning scratch that evaporates into red mist. Unable to see the birds, Ian struggles to control his rapid breathing and watches the eyes move in the thickening darkness. A putrid smell hits his nose and it reminds him of the turtles that were boiled in the pond. Wanting the visions to go away, he ducks under the covers and sticks his fingers in his ears. Eerie caws echoing off the walls, the birds drag the sheet to the floor where they tear at it and leave Ian exposed. For a second, he swears there is a figure standing at the foot of his bed, but it is gone faster than it appeared.

“Go away,” he begs through clenched teeth. Desperation takes over his mind, so he bites into his arm with enough force to draw blood. The sheet reappears, whole and covering him as it was doing before the birds attacked. “Ghosts don’t exist and that was too vivid for a prank. Not unless something was put in my sandwich. That must be it. Unless I’m not really getting better and I’m starting to have stress-based hallucinations.”

“Humans are such weak creatures,” the voice says from the far side of the room. There is a sense of disappointment and boredom in its tone, which puts Ian on edge. “You think there is always a rational explanation or an excuse. Take your friend across the hall. Nothing is his fault and everyone is against him. All it takes to unmake a person like that is a mirror that they cannot escape. This is why I avoid him. Far too easy while you are a much more interesting challenge, Mr. Connors.”

“What do you want from me?”

“You ask me a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t believe I exist.”

“I’m playing along.”

“Then get some sleep and prepare for another round. Win them all and we get to meet.”

“Let me go home.”

“Foolish little puppy,” the phantom whispers with a baritone giggle. A cool hand strokes Ian’s forehead and closes his eyes, forcing exhaustion to overtake him. “That’s the entire point of Raven’s Hold. We want to prepare you to return home. Goodnight and sweet dreams.”