West Park Asylum

“Wait up, Rich,” Ian says as he jogs after the older man. He catches up at the door to the small garden and they take a seat on a marble bench. “I’m sorry you were treated that way. If it means anything, I heard a voice last night. It spoke about normal not being fun.”

“Every patient here has heard that voice at some point,” Rich replies, his voice empty and defeated. He clicks his camera at a nearby butterfly, the noise scaring the insect off the purple flower. “The staff doubt its existence, but I’ve overheard the residents talking about weird events. Strange shadows, a voice at night, and a whole list of signs that there is something wrong at Raven’s Hold. None of them agree with me to my face because they don’t trust me. After all, I’m an outsider.”

“But they think you’re a patient too,” Ian points out, shying away from the glare. “I only mean that it’s obvious they consider you one of them. I don’t see any evidence that they treat you differently. Well, besides Jeremy laying into you, but I get the feeling that he does that to everybody.”

The bald man sighs and adjusts the lens on his camera. “The others pretend to go along with the staff to stay on the doctor’s good side. Think about it. If there is any threat of a leak then those in charge will do whatever it takes to remove the threat. For example, take a reporter who comes too close to the truth and turn them into a patient. That’s only what would happen to an outsider. Imagine if you’re already here and put Raven’s Hold in danger. Only place to go is away and never be heard from again. Maybe the ghosts are of those who uncovered the truth and were eliminated.”

Ian nods and rethinks his decision to befriend the strange man, who still sounds like a delusional patient. The voice from the night before could have been the remnant of a dream or even a conversation he overheard and accidentally interrupted. After all, he doubts a ghost would be thrown off by a simple statement. Seeing how Jeremy reacted to Rich, Ian can easily imagine a malicious patient using the story of strange voices to have some fun. The shadows and other odd happenings probably had even simpler explanations, which he decides not to suggest to his only friend.

“What do they think you’ll do if they agree with you?” Ian asks with a sigh. He pauses when Dawn wanders into the garden, but she immediately heads back inside when she sees the two men. “That was strange. Though I get the feeling that’s just her. Do you know anything about Dawn?”

“It’s best that you hear her story from her. Crossing Ms. Addison can be messy since she’s very unpredictable,” Rich replies while keeping his eye on the windows. He shivers when he thinks of the young woman watching him from wherever she is hiding. “As to the question I can answer, the patients are scared that I’ll go into the basement. I’m sure that’s where the truth behind Raven’s Hold is hidden. Maybe this whole place is an experiment to see what effects certain stimuli have on the mentally unstable. No offense.”

“Kind of hard to take offense when it’s true,” the blonde man replies with a half-hearted smirk. A flicker of movement draws his attention to a rabbit that is wondering through a nearby patch of ivy. “Dr. Rutherford told me that a few of the previous patients abused some of the wildlife here. I find it interesting that the animals stay so close to the building after that happened.”

“They’re only dumb animals. Probably don’t know any better.”

“I was attacked by squirrels on my first day.”

“That’s more common than people think.”

Ian scratches his head and goes back to watching the rabbit, the animal hopping within a few feet of him. For the first time, Rich takes notice of the rodent and stomps his foot in an attempt to scare it away. Instead, the black-furred rabbit stares at him and twitches its ears in irritation at the loud noise. It scampers along the walkway and ducks into the open door, startling a female patient who rushes out of the building. The woman keeps running until she disappears around the far corner.

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better,” Rich says while awkwardly patting Ian on the shoulder. The man forces a weak smile and runs his thumb along the dial that focuses his camera. “It’s more kindness than I’ve been shown since I got here. Genuine kindness and not the humoring I get from everyone else. For what it’s worth, I hope this place isn’t a supernatural pit of ghosts and you recover. You seem like a really nice guy, Ian, and it sucks that you’ve had to suffer so much. My best friend took her life in high school and I still occasionally wonder if there was anything I could have done.”

“Do you ever come up with an answer?” Ian asks, his breathing becoming rapid and labored. Rubbing the side of his head, the young man subtly grabs and twists his ear to give himself a jolt of pain. “I usually just run the entire thing through my head until I have a panic attack. Then I wake up feeling like I should be the one who died. It’s a nightmarish cycle that I can’t break myself out of.”

“The only answer I have is that hindsight is a useless skill,” his friend replies with a bitter chuckle. “Look on the bright side. You understand that you have a problem and need to get better. Most people remain in denial about their situation. Sure you’ll break out of the cycle at some point. Sorry if I upset you. Do you need me to get you a paper bag or something? You’re going to hyperventilate.”

“I’ll be fine,” the younger man claims while putting his head between his knees. A few gulps for air nearly make him vomit, but he manages to pull himself together. “To be honest, I’m rather easy to set off, so I don’t hold it against anyone who does it by accident. Besides, you were trying to help. Beats my older sister and her husband trying the tough love approach or treating me like a helpless child. They don’t really understand what my wife or I am going through. I probably never explained it very well and they took it as whining or a childish attempt to hide from people.”

“If you could explain it clearly then you’d probably be better now.”

“Good point.”

A blood-curdling scream causes both men to leap to their feet and hurry back into the building. Orderlies cut them off before they can get more than a few steps, each staff member ready with a sedative. Rich and Ian put up their hands and calmly back toward the wall while watching some of the rowdier patients get contained by force. A whistling janitor is hurrying with a mop and bucket, but he is stopped by a woman pushing a gurney. She waits for her coworkers to get everything under control and quietly moves the wheeled bed toward a groaning form that is covered by a sheet.

Another cry of agony rings out and the red-haired man from the morning’s group session throws his covering away. Blood is spread across the floor, which riles a few of the more sensitive patients. The red liquid seeps from a wound on his heel that has neatly severed his Achilles tendon. It is a very precise and clean cut that reminds many of the orderlies of a surgical incision. Whimpering and reaching down to his leg, the red-haired man tries to roll over and cries in pain. He shivers and clenches his teeth as his body begins to go into shock. It takes several orderlies to left the heavy patient onto the gurney and they quickly try to wrap the wound with gauze.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Jeremy says from where he has been cornered. “I was at the other end of the hallway when he went down. Where would I get something to make a wound like that anyway? I don’t even have any blood on me.”

“Hand from the floor,” the injured man mutters as he is carted away. He stares wide-eyed at Rich and Ian, but they get the feeling he does not really see them. “Saw it in the window. It rose out of the floor with a razor. One swipe and I fell. Something is living in the basement. It put its hand through the floor. Like a ghost.”

A sedative stops his rant before he gets too excited and he gradually falls asleep, the gauze already dripping onto the white sheet. The janitor hurries to clean the pool of blood and stops to shoo away the rabbit. With a twitch of its nose, the rodent ignores the bearded man and goes back to licking at the puddle. An orderly eventually grabs the rabbit and takes the thrashing animal outside, its teeth puncturing her hands several times.

“I didn’t think rabbits drink blood,” Ian whispers, watching the rodent disappear into the bushes. “Am I alone in thinking that was strange?”

“You’re not alone on that one,” Rich replies, clicking a few pictures of the blood pool before it is gone. He jumps when Dawn steps out from behind him and bends down to touch the crimson rabbit prints. “I wish I had an explanation for this, but it’s nothing like any of the visions and voices I’ve heard. Maybe the guy made the ghosts mad, so they decided to punish him. Not sure what he could have done to anger them though.”

“He scared the bunny,” Dawn says while sniffing at the blood on her fingers. She wrinkles her nose and wipes the liquid on the back of the janitor’s pants. “You should never scare a sleeping bunny.”

West Park Asylum

“I don’t see why I have to go first when we have a new guy,” the muscular man complains, his chair lying on its back. He glares at the other members of the circle while he retrieves his furniture. “So I had a little outburst and threw a table out a window. We all know I have anger issues and that’s why I’m here. Not my fault since I was raised that way. You’re always making me go first, Dr. Rutherford, which isn’t fair.”

“I apologize, Jeremy, but I know that you will try to extend the others’ time to avoid speaking,” the doctor replies, her legs crossed beneath a long, blue skirt. “I do agree that we should have Mr. Connors share if he is ready. Remember that not everyone is as bold and confident as you, Jeremy.”

Satisfied that she has calmed her most aggressive patient, Grace tries to decide on who should go next. She hopes that someone will volunteer, but the only one with his hand raised is Rich. The gentle snoring of Dawn, the woman napping beneath her chair, grants the doctor an extra minute to think. With Ian focused more on his feet than the group, she is not sure it is a good time to force him to participate. Unlike the day before, he has been extremely quiet and distant, which makes her worried that he is worse shape than she predicted. With a sigh of defeat that she hides beneath a yawn, Grace motions for Rich to stand and talk about his latest ghostly encounter.

“I heard the voice last night again,” the bald man explains to the loud groans of the other patients. He flicks his camera lens off and puts it back only to repeat the action. “It says the same thing it does every night, which is about being normal and having fun. This time, I saw a face in the window and its eyes came out of the glass. They flew around the room before exploding over my head. There’s no rational explanation for such a strange dream, so I know it’s some kind of ghost. My guess is a poltergeist or maybe a variety of ghosts that were disturbed when Raven’s Hold was built. I mean, we’re not allowed in the basement and the staff seems scared of going down there. Maybe the bodies of dead patients are being kept down there for experiments and their spirits are running wild up here.”

“Do you listen to your own words?” Jeremy asks as his patience gives out. Noticing an orderly stepping toward him, he holds up his hands and slumps in his chair. “I’m not going to hit him this time. All I’m saying is that Rich says the same thing at every session. The details change, but he never tries to accept that he’s hallucinating or whatever that is. What’s the point of him being here if he refuses your help, doctor?”

“I’m not supposed to be a patient here!” Rich shouts, his voice cracking when it gets too high. Shivering and on the verge of tears, the man seems to deflate in his chair. “This was supposed to be a simple visit and interview. Get a tour for a few days, view the patients, and then go home. I’m not one of you people. Why doesn’t anybody believe that I’m sane and there really are ghosts here?”

“Because those two things don’t go together.”

“Then how do you explain the voices and strange visions?”

“If that was proof of ghosts then Dawn would be saner than you.”

“That’s different.”

“Yes because you’re an idiot and she’s not.”

Grace clears her throat to stop the two from arguing and is about to reprimand Jeremy when Ian gets to his feet. His attention is focused on Rich and she wonders if the newcomer is about to join in the debate. Instead, the young man sits back down and takes several gulping breaths to ward off a panic attack. He leans back so that he is staring at the ceiling and is temporarily mesmerized by the swirling reflection of light in the tiles.

“I’m here because I tried to kill myself five times over the last three years, cut myself when stressed, have panic attacks, and bouts of depression,” Ian announces, his voice rising and falling in pitch. Leaning forward, he is surprised to see Jeremy roll his eyes and cross his arms. “The reason for my breakdown was because I lost my wife and child. She was having a hard time being a new mother and I was trying my best to help her. If she asked me to do something then I did it and I made sure she got plenty of rest. We found a therapist when it looked it was a bigger problem than we realized. Things were going well, but I guess she was hiding stuff from me and the therapist. My wife sent me out for pizza like every Friday. I came home fifteen minutes later to find that she drowned our son in the bathtub. She was in there two with an empty bottle of painkillers and her throat slit. As you can imagine, I thought it was a murder, but there was a note in the printer queue. Guess she couldn’t wait for it to print. Anyway, I broke down and looked back at all the signs that things were worse than they seemed. I keep thinking that I should have been able to stop her if I had be smarter or . . . something. I wasn’t a positive person to begin with, so that event pushed me over the edge.”

“Guess you weren’t much of a husband,” Jeremy says without facing the other patients. He chuckles at the angry stares that he knows he is getting. “Nobody does something like that without clear signs. You were so busy doing errands and pampering her that you never saw what was right before your eyes. That letter had to have been on the computer prior to you leaving for the pizza. Did you never think of checking her files and search history?”

“I wanted her to know that I trusted her,” Ian replies, surprised that the doctor is letting Jeremy cause another disturbance. “Why do you let him do this? It’s only upsetting the rest of us.”

Grace closes her notebook and fixes her glasses, her smile appearing less genuine than before. “I run these sessions in an untraditional manner. As long as there is no violence or vulgarity, I allow things to go further than you may be used to. That being said, I will voice my opinion when something goes too far like it has now. Jeremy, you were not there and do not know all the details of the situation. As you heard, Mr. Connors did his best and is trying to come to terms with a great loss. That is not easy and he will be depending on all of us to see that he gets through this challenge. In regards to Mr. Garrett, you know that such statements only exacerbate his condition. Nobody treats you as poorly as you treat them, so I suggest that you learn from their example.”

“That’s because everyone is scared of me,” Jeremy mutters while flexing his arms. A bead of sweat appears on his forehead when he fears that one of his biceps is about to pop, the muscle feeling tense for an agonizing second. “I’m big and strong, which is all that counts. Like my old man always said, fear is how you get respect. Best that Mr. Connors learn that quickly if he wants to survive here.”

“More like you’re a pathetic loser who thinks acting like a bully is power,” states a portly man with red hair. He scratches at his freckled neck, which is raw and bleeding from constant rubbing. “It’s people like you who created many of those found here. Not like you care since the breaking of another human being is pleasurable to you. I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re tired of you insulting and harassing us. Just go away and suck your thumb like the giant child your idiot father raised.”

With a snarl, Jeremy lunges across the circle before the orderlies can reach him. He grabs the red-haired man by the shoulders, ignoring the screams and wails about not wanting to get dirty. Most of the other patients hurry to get out of the circle, the exception being Dawn who is still asleep on the floor. Blocked by the panicking residents, the orderlies and Dr. Rutherford are unable to get to the fight. The scuffle ends when Jeremy shoves his opponent to the side and trips him. As if the world is in slow motion, everyone watches the heavy man land on Dawn.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the brunette growls while slipping out from under the wheezing figure. She remains on all fours and licks a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “I don’t like being woken up when I’m sleepy. Go back to your own space.”

“I’m really sorry,” the man says as he crawls away. “It wasn’t my fault. Jeremy pushed me onto you.”

Dawn cocks her head to the side and occasionally nods her head. “You made him mad, so you’re at fault. I don’t feel like sharing today, so I’m going to leave. Think I’ll tell the cooks to make pancakes for lunch.”

Rolling backwards and up to her feet, Dawn skips to the door and leaves the rest of the group to reset the chairs. The red-haired man remains on the floor, but stays away from the group and whimpers whenever he is approached. He furiously rubs his arms and mutters about being dirty, his movements easing when he feels the others are no longer paying attention to him. One of the orderlies stands behind Jeremy to make sure he does not cause another disturbance. For the rest of the hour, nobody speaks or even looks at each other while the tension remains thick in the air. The only sounds are the cawing of birds outside the window and the tapping of Dr. Rutherford’s pen on her notebook.