I thought about telling her he was clearly just a nutjob, that she was right. But I trudged forward toward my revelations of the truth. It would feel good to confide in someone else and to perhaps have someone of sound mind to ground me in reality.
“He wants me to take the rest of them.”
“You mean you took some already? Jessica, this isn’t wise. You’re feeding into his disillusionment by taking them.” Her eyes were kind and warm but her voice stern, as if she were a mother chiding a daughter for stealing a cookie from the cookie jar when her back was turned.
A moment of indecision. Should I retreat and keep it hidden? Or should I press forward and perhaps get the answers I sought to put an end to it all? In other circumstances, certainly I wouldn’t admit the truth. But Redwood was different. It had proven that. The walls talked, the spirits mingled with the living, and everyone knew the icy forest island had rules of its own.
“He’s not disillusioned. The pictures, the drawings—they’re real. I’ve seen them.”
“What do you mean they’re real?” She dropped my arm, properly bandaged, but didn’t move a muscle. The room was silent, water dripping in the stony corner the only sound. I breathed in.
“The kids he’s drawing. I’ve seen them.”
“Here?” she asked, incredulously, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d imagined it all. Josephine, the spirits, the screams in the walls. The haunted legends. Shit, maybe I was losing my grip—
“No. Well. Sort of. But not just here. When I take the drawings home. They come with me. It’s like they’re linked to the drawing.”
Anna blinked slowly, then reached up and twirled a piece of hair. I noticed that her chin rose slightly, and she peered down her perfectly straight nose at me.
“I’m serious.” Two words to seal the deal, to secure the fact that either it was real and Anna would help me, or that I’d gone mad for all intents and purposes.
Anna exhaled loudly, shaking her head.
“And what have they been doing, Jessica? What are their interactions with you?”
Encouraged by her questions, I ignored the scathing tone of her voice. I told her about Red, about Brown. About my suspicions that 5B had something to do with their deaths.
“Unless they were residents here and died. Have you heard anyone else talk about them?”
“No.” Her word was firm and direct. Iciness ran through my veins as I chilled at the prospect she was angry.
She softened her face, offered a weak smile. “No, Jessica. I’ve never heard of these. Other than from his drawings, of course. We assumed he’d gone mad. But it scares me. I’m worried for you.”
“Why do you say that? People see weird things here all the time,” I added, my chest heaving. I tried to remind myself to steady my breath, to stay calm. I wasn’t on trial here.
“I told you the activity has increased with you around, and it hasn’t been harmless, Josephine kind of stuff. What you’re telling me is terrifying, Jessica. They seem violent with you, especially the kids from 5B. I’ve never heard of these red and brown character you talk of, other than in his crazy drawings. And no one sees any of the presences at home. The ones troubled by this place are trapped here. Why would they follow you? Why would they latch on to you?”
The air between us thickened, like a hazy, red fog. I steadied my gaze and my resolve, shoving down memories from the past, the connection that was beginning to strengthen with the man in 5B.
“I don’t know. But 5B told me when I came that I was the only one who could help him. I’m wrapped up in it all now, and I don’t know where to start. I don’t know who the kids are or if he actually killed them. And what do they want?” I focused my eyes above Anna, memories of red and brown coming to me like a haunted dream. I’d hoped for answers from Anna. Instead, I’d found more questions and doubts. It felt like things were unravelling, and I was already barely hanging by a thread.
Anna stood now, towering over me. Her soft demeanor had hardened, and her voice was quiet but forceful all the same.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jessica. I don’t know. But I do know this. You need to leave it alone. The whole business with 5B. The whole picture thing. Leave it be, and they’ll let you alone too. I’ve seen some good people go bad when they let this place creep into them, and we wouldn’t want that.” She stared at me intently, a palpable confidence settling on the ground between us like dust after a windstorm. Particles of it blew across to me, her assuredness brushing against my skin and making me shrivel backward.
I was suddenly certain I was losing favor with her. I’d experienced that sort of thing before. I’d worked my share of jobs where no one liked me. I’d spent my time on the fringes, and since I left Mercy, I’d learned sometimes it was better to be alone. Still, the reality of it isn’t always easy to swallow in the moment, in real time. My chest ached a bit.
“I’ll handle 5B from now on,” she announced, interrupting my introspective analyses. I sensed that the offer wasn’t kindness on her part but something else entirely. She stalked away, prancing down the hallway. Her heels clicking on the tile floor, I sat in the room alone. The dissonance of the clicks mingled with moans from somewhere beyond as I picked at the skin on my thumbnail and tried to focus my mind on what really mattered.
Chapter Fourteen
Under the guise of being sent on a mission, I managed to assuage Roxy to tell me where the records were kept. Not the typical records I drafted daily, but the ‘deep,’ records. The files on every resident’s past, treatments, and prognoses.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that the documents were housed in the basement, deep in the underground section of Redwood. I also shouldn’t have been shocked that according to Roxy, they were off-limits to the staff. When you have a dark past like Redwood, secrets aren’t meant to be aired out for all to see.
It took some finagling the next night to get to them. Finagling that involved swiping a key from a custodian after distracting him. It was risky. I could lose my job. Maybe even worse. I thought of the icy stare Anna shot at me when I asked too many questions. I considered how everyone at Redwood adhered to a tacit code of conduct, which required keeping your head down and your hands busy. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time until the keys were missed. I also knew I couldn’t afford to get caught. My legs shakily carried me onward, down the stairs to the forgotten corner of Redwood.
The musty smell assaulted my noise as I edged forward, my heart racing. I knew that at any moment, it could all end. The files were so close, though. Perhaps the answers were so close. I was on shaky ground without a map. There were no true, clear answers to the dead.
Into the records room I went, dust floating about as I used the flashlight on my cell phone to take inventory. There were so many filing cabinets, organized by years, by letters. How many secrets did the place hold? And how many secrets had never even been transcribed onto paper? I breathed in the archaic dust and breathed out hope, fear, and terror rolled into one.
I reminded myself to focus and panned my light over the labels. I found my way to the most recent filing cabinets after some time, certain that any minute an alarm would sound to alert the staff of the missing keys. Hopefully, John’s lunch would keep him occupied for a full thirty minutes, and more importantly, hopefully no one saw me enter his tiny office and talk to him when the keys went missing.
I oriented myself to the lettering system and did some rooting. I papercut myself on a file that was out of place. I shoved the ‘Mills’ file aside as I dug through the stack of E’s until I came to the right one.
Robert Essic.
I inhaled deeply and prepared myself for whatever was inside. I scanned through the documents, startled at a slightly younger version of 5B that stared at me from the front of the file. He had a moustache then and thick, brown hair. He had the same, stoic facial expression in his intake photo that he often wore in the present day. I searched his information, taking photos of some informati
on I thought might be helpful.
His address. A picture of the newspaper clipping along with the article that went with his arrest. Doctors’ notes. I took as many photos as I could, my heart pounding as I reminded myself what was at stake. Just as I was preparing to put the file back, footsteps sounded from behind. Heavy, fast moving footsteps inched into the dusty room of records, and my heart wedged itself in my throat.
I set the file back in the cabinet and inched behind it. I knew my beam of light was certainly visible, and the door was open. There was no hiding from whoever had found me. Unwilling to wait breathlessly for the interminable amount of time until my fate presented itself, I raised my voice.
“Hello?”
There was no answer, just footsteps again. I panned my light and jumped at the sight of red hair floating behind a gauzy figure.
Instinctively retreating, my back against the cool, dusty metal of the cabinet, I tried again.
“Who’s there?”
Nothing but a chill in the air and goosebumps on my arm. I walked toward the exit, knowing I needed to rid myself of the keys strategically so as to not raise questions.
But as I approached the doorway, the red-haired figure darted out from nowhere, stopping me in my tracks. I dropped my phone, cursed, and backed up. My eyes maladjusted to the dark area, I could only make out the edges of the ethereal, haunting figure. Was this the same one from the laundry room? Was it connected to 5B or the asylum? I could no longer tell the difference in the hellish house of horrors that had become my life.
“What do you want?” I asked, a whispered prayer between us.
I felt chilled and terrified, but my intrinsic curiosity kept me frozen in place.
“Be careful, Jessica. Do not unearth secrets you cannot handle.” The voice was soft and feminine but tinged with a hint of sorrow and distance.
“Who are you?”
But the figure was gone. I knew it before I reached down and reclaimed my phone. Still, I shined the light on the doorway to the records room in the hopes that the figure would be there to reveal the answers I sought. There wasn’t a trace of anything or anyone. I shivered, confused and dazed. I locked up the room, heading back to the stairs to ditch the keys and to return to my work.
All night, though, as I handled mischievous residents and questioning glances from Anna, I thought of the figure and who she could be. More importantly, I wondered how she was woven into the fabric of my life that had become more otherworldly than I’d liked to have admitted.
Chapter Fifteen
Iwaited until I got to my car at the end of my shift to glance at the files on my phone. The knowledge that information was in my pocket burned through me, but I couldn’t risk it with prying eyes nearby. Once inside my car, though, I flipped quickly through the photos, knowing I’d be doing plenty of scrutinizing later that night and all week. I pulled up the picture of the article, the headline bold.
Hallucinations Plague Armed Veteran in Oakwood; Arrest Made
I skimmed the article, reading about the quiet man who had seen visions of children on his front lawn on Terrace Avenue on July 3, 2006. The story walked through the terrifying ordeal of Robert Essic, who was found with a loaded gun on his front lawn, waving it and shouting. When questioned, he was quoted as saying, “Make them stop. Please, make them stop. Little Red, go away.”
His neighbors were also interviewed, noting that Robert was an introverted, apathetic man who was rarely home. I noted the name of Emily Landing, who was one of the neighbors quoted. Was she still alive? I also noted the address of Robert. Maybe someone knew more, could tell me details about the enigma in 5B.
The other pictures were just of the file notes, detailing the treatments and behaviors of 5B. I noted that on the financial paperwork, an anonymous donor had sponsored 5B’s stay; a trust had been apparently established for his care. Still, it was crazy to me that after so many decades, none of the treatments had worked. I looked at the list of treatments, including an electroshock treatment issued last year.
“Worsening condition in patient; experimental electroshock treatment perhaps has led to more hallucinations. Mr. Essic’s penchant for childlike drawings have gone rampant. Voltage perhaps too high? Noted for future use of the treatment.”
I shook my head, wondering whose handwriting was in the file. An experimental treatment. And apparently the drawings only started after that. My stomach curled at the thought. There I was working in the place day and in and day out. I kept my head down and did my work, like I was told. But how many things were going on underneath my nose? How many experimental treatments? How many sketchy practices due to the untrained nature of the staff? A sickening feeling usurped me as I put the phone down and headed home for the night. But when I pulled into my driveway a few minutes later, I froze, bile rising.
A hint of a girl floated in the darkness, a yellow aura surrounding her. There was a distant quality to her, and her face was undeterminable, even in my headlights. Her face was nondistinctive, lacking all physical features of a human. I swallowed, shaking my head.
I hadn’t brought home any more drawings. I hadn’t. Still, the quality of her reminded me of something from the drawings of 5B. Had I stirred her from the files?
There was a long moment where she just stood and we gawked at each other, me through tear-filled eyes, her through no eyes at all. Her pigtails were high, I noted, and her dress a party dress if I had to describe it. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
“No,” I whimpered, shaking my head. There was no way. It was 5B. Something had happened with the files. Certainly.
But before I could convince myself, the figure was pounding on my window, banging and shrieking at a decibel I was certain would make dogs howl.
“Stop, please,” I begged, reaching for my phone but wondering who the hell I would even call. Instead, I started the car and backed erratically out of my driveway, panting as I flew onto the road. I peeled out, tires screeching on the damp road as I zoomed back toward Redwood, the only place that felt like it made any sort of sense. I was losing it. Madness was creeping in. I was gone.
When I was safely distanced from my own home, I stopped at a corner and put it in park, needing to regain my composure. I swiped at my eyes and steadied my breathing.
It was okay. This was no different than red or brown. I just had to figure it all out.
I nodded, reaffirming my connection to the world of the living. I looked in the mirror to assess my appearance.
But when I did, a new shriek escaped my lips.
And a matching shriek escaped from the yellow being in my backseat, blood now running down the front of her, oozing from her hairline as I wept into the steering wheel.
As I prepared to exit the car, though, she was gone. A whispered thought in my memory, but no longer visible. I sat for a long time in the silent, dark car, my heart thumping as I reached for my phone and desperately sought the clues I needed to find the lost children of 5B, to put them to rest, and to move the hell away from the nightmare my life had become once more.
Chapter Sixteen
Arestless night of nightmares haunted me. Visions of the yellow girl and all that had happened swirled in my mind, keeping me tossing and turning. Eventually, I gave up on sleep, every noise and echo in the night jarring me upright to see what horrific sight awaited me. I meandered to my desk, pawing through the drawings from 5B. My fingers hesitated to even touch them, afraid that they would jolt the beings to life, that they would again wander through my apartment. Still, I pressed on, comparing the drawings to the notes in my phone. Wondering, fearing, trying to uncover it all. But to no avail.
A few crayon drawings. A few kids who were probably murdered, and a supposedly insane man in 5B. What detective could piece it all together? And who would listen to me without thinking I was the unstable one? I needed more information.
I thought about leaving that night. About getting in my car like once before and letting the road take me away to a new sta
rt. Still, I had a feeling that as long as the secrets of 5B were left unsolved, I wouldn’t be getting much sleep. And the only way to perhaps sort it out was to return to Redwood. I was hypnotized by the gory truths lurking in the walls. I was also feeling deep in my gut that this whole case, this whole unbelievable case could be the final nail in my proverbial coffin—or my literal one.
I stewed over the drawings, taking notes. I would need to do some digging. I made myself a list.
Track down Emily Landing (if she’s alive)
Look through more of Essic’s files
Try to talk to 5B and get more out of him
Search missing kids’ databases
They were all long shots, I knew. Emily Landing could’ve moved away or even died, and if I could track her down, would she even talk to me? Sneaking down to the files and talking to 5B were both risky, especially with Anna’s disproving eyes watching closely. And the databases were like finding a needle in a haystack. I didn’t have real names of the kids, only crayon drawings and the haunting images seared in my brain. I didn’t know who they were, how old they were, or where they were from. Hell, I didn’t even know if they were actually even murdered or reported missing.
Resting my head on my hands, I looked at the clock. It was time to head for my shift. My eyes drooped at the thought, and my soul was weary. Still, I trudged toward the bathroom to slap on some concealer and make myself look presentable, professional, and calm. I needed to keep suspicions low if I was going to play detective. Exhaling, I strolled to my room, too tired to be edgy about what spectral images could be awaiting me.
I stomped toward my dresser, pulling out the cracked wooden drawer with the screech I’d come to recognize. But as I pawed through for my clothes, I paused, my hand gripping the edge of the drawer.
A piece of a satiny yellow dress sat atop the clothes. There were two alarming things about this swatch of fabric.
The Redwood Asylum: A Paranormal Horror Page 8
