Bombing past the boxes, file cabinets, and outdated office supplies, we ran for the exit door to the courtyard, to our freedom. I yanked the heavy door open, then pushed on the rotted board that secured it from the outside.
Only this time, the board wouldn’t budge.
It was sealed tight on all sides.
I kicked at it as Kaitlin’s voice filled the back of my mind with her terrified screams.
“Open it!” She shoved my shoulders, trying to push past me.
The sound of my frantic breathing drowned out all other noise as I focused on the rigid board that once hung broken in its mount—now solid in its housing.
There was no way out.
We were trapped.
I kicked at the door until pain in my legs and feet stopped me. Bending to lean on my knees, I panted from the exertion. Kaitlin’s eyes bulged out of her head as she stared at me, waiting for a solution.
“How the hell is it boarded up?” I struggled to catch my breath. “It makes no sense.”
Kaitlin looked back toward the storage room door and then at me. “I need to get out of here, Grace. What if that girl comes back? I don’t want to see her again. Please.” Her voice cracked like she was about to cry.
“Close the door,” I said. “We can barricade it.” I pulled a chair out of a pile of office junk.
“Like that will stop her,” she groaned.
“Well, it’s better than nothing.” I nudged her to take the chair as I searched for other things that could block the door. “I’m calling for help.” I reached in my pocket for my phone.
“Wait. Who?” she snapped. “My mother will kill me if she knows I came here. I’m sorry, but she told me not to hang out with you right now.”
My gaze shot to her. “What? Why?”
She shook her head as she jammed the chair under the doorknob. “She thinks you’re unstable.”
I stopped what I was doing, shocked. “Unstable?”
She shrugged, digging for more things to block the door. “Your mom called her. Told her you were freaking out with weird visions and shit. My mom’s scared of you now, basically.”
Anger surged through me, causing my face to burn red. It was as if my mother were enjoying this. She was always looking for anything sinister in me. Something deviant. And now she finally had it. Sure, it was head trauma caused by a car accident, but if she wanted to make it sound like I was possessed, then fine.
“I seriously hate her,” I mumbled.
“You shouldn’t say that,” Kaitlin whispered.
“No, Kaitlin. This time I can,” I grumbled. “This is the last straw. She doesn’t have my back and never has. She always says I’m too much like my father, and I think that’s been eating away at her all these years.”
A banging sound came clanging along the pipes overhead.
“Shit. What’s that?” Kaitlin whimpered.
In two seconds flat, I had my phone ready and called Braden.
Before he could finish saying ‘hello,’ I interrupted him with the details of our predicament without taking a moment for a breath. First the breaking in, then the vision of the girl showing us to the doctor’s office, the ocular lobotomy, the overflowing tub…
“How the hell are you trapped?” His voice blasted through the phone at me. “If you came in through the door, you should be able to leave through it.”
“No, it’s impossible,” I pleaded. “It’s like someone screwed it shut while we were in here. Please! You have to come. Bring a screwdriver or a crowbar. Anything! Just get us out of here.”
“I’m on my way,” he assured me. “How will I know where to find you?”
“We’re in the back of the Excited Ward,” I explained. “Directly across from the dining hall. We’re at the door at the far right in the courtyard at the back of the building.”
No response. Silence sat heavily in my ear.
“Braden? Are you there?” I asked.
Nothing. Except for the heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“Is he gone?” Kaitlin gasped.
I swallowed hard. “Yes.” I tried calling again, and it rang without an answer. I glanced around the room, then checked the charge on my phone. “I think he heard enough. He’s coming.”
With a nod, she came over to stand next to me. Her shoulder touched mine as she pressed in close, surveying the room for any spooks or oddities.
“What percent are you at?” I asked.
“Fifty.”
“Okay, that’s good. I’m at forty-eight,” I said. “So, let’s conserve our batteries and just use one flashlight at a time.” I checked the time. “It’s almost five o’clock. It’ll be getting dark in a couple of hours. We’ll need them if we’re still here then.”
“We better not still be here,” Kaitlin snapped.
“We won’t be. Don’t worry.” I glanced at the exit door, hoping it would miraculously burst open and Braden would charge in to rescue us. Cringe-worthy, I knew. But I would have done anything for that knight-in-shining-armor moment right now.
I slid down the wall until I squatted on the floor. Kaitlin lowered herself down with me. My face itched, and I scrunched my nose against the mold and dust that tickled at it. Shivers quaked from Kaitlin’s body, passing on to mine and causing my nerves to compound into shudders.
I thought about how we’d get out of there. I could pile boxes and try to shimmy out one of the windows, but they were boarded solid. I’d wait a bit first to see if Braden came.
It was interesting that my first, and only, call was to Braden. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on his friendship. He was the one I could count on who was always there to pick me up. I thought back to high school, remembering his cracking voice and acne. Even though he’d grown to be the tallest and most athletic of the boys, I somehow still saw him in that same light, as an awkward teen.
Plus, there was no one else to call. Anyone else would have no idea where to find us or would think we were nuts. If worse came to worst, I’d have to call my mother, and that was the absolute last thing I’d ever do. I’d rather break a window first and risk a patchwork of stitches along my arms. I supposed the police would be a final option as well. But deep down, I knew Braden was on his way.
I scanned the room, examining the contents.
“Don’t even think about leaving this room,” Kaitlin hissed. “I swear, I’m not stepping foot out there again. Ever.”
I smirked and nodded in full agreement. “No, I’m just looking at all the crap in here. It’s like they planned on moving it all out at some point and then just gave up. They walked away from it one day and never came back. Just sealed it up instead.” I pushed myself to standing. “I’m dying to look in one of those boxes.”
“Confidential,” Kaitlin read aloud.
“Yeah, I’d say that label has expired,” I said, moving toward the rickety file cabinets. “Help me get these down.” I reached up, then pulled on a stack of heavy boxes.
The box on top wobbled as I wiggled the bottom one out to the edge of the cabinet. Just as the top box started to fall, Kaitlin grabbed on to it and lowered it to the floor. I set the other box next to it, then kicked it over to our safe spot by the wall. Kaitlin followed me, sliding her box as well.
We lowered ourselves down the wall again to squatting and stared at the boxes. The brown cardboard of my box was stained and worn from the years, but still held strong with its sturdy construction. Kaitlin’s box was newer with red lettering along the sides for labeling. I pulled the lid off mine.
Two stacks of papers filled the interior. I flipped through the top pages and examined the handwritten papers, all in old-world black ink cursive, each sheet with the same heading, MEDICAL HISTORY. ‘Name’ and ‘Age-at-committal’ were on the top lines, followed by ‘Place of birth’ and ‘Date’ on the next lines. Then sections for ‘Physical descriptions’ and more spaces for ‘Current condition’ and ‘Particulars of committal’. A line at the bottom held the signature of the me
dical examiner.
Kaitlin gazed wide-eyed at the old documents, then flipped the lid off her own box. She rubbed her hand across the tops of file folders and pulled one out. The papers inside were mostly completed by typewriter with the only handwriting being signatures and any attached prescriptions for Prozac. She turned her attention to my older records.
I leafed through the documents, hundreds or even thousands of identical forms, and gasped at the sheer volume of committed patients from the late 1800s and early 1900s. Conditions listed in the descriptions included things like mortified pride, disappointed expectations, melancholia, and moral insanity. Recommendations like restraints, hydrotherapy, insulin coma, and seclusion were listed just above the final signature.
I frowned at the power the medical doctors had over these women. Women who were probably perfectly sane but had pushed against a system that suppressed them. I couldn’t get my head around the mistreatment and imprisonment of these unfortunate people. It wouldn’t have taken long for them to become truly insane within these unforgiving walls.
Tears pooled in my lower lids. Kaitlin shook her head with similar disgust. Then my eye caught on the perfectly scrawled name at the top of the page that had just fallen through my fingers.
Emma Grangley.
Gasping, I pulled Emma’s form out from all the others. Straining to read the streaked black ink that filled the document, I made out that she was committed at seventeen on ‘9 June 1919’. She presented as ‘stubborn’ and ‘agitated,’ and the section that listed ‘particulars’ said ‘mortified pride’ and ‘uncontrolled passion’.
“Oh my God,” I murmured at Kaitlin as I smacked my hand over my mouth.
“What does it mean?” She scrunched her eyes, trying to decode the messy ink scrawl.
“She was probably raped or something,” I said. “Mortified pride must mean she was traumatized in some way, like violated. And any girl who was sexually active back then, even if it was against their will, would have been seen as a whore, so ‘uncontrolled passion’ would fit that description.”
Kaitlin grimaced in revolt. “So they sent her to an insane asylum?”
“Probably to remove the shame from her family,” I guessed. “Back then, rape would have brought disgrace to the family name. So sending her away—out of sight, out of mind—was their solution.”
I pressed my lips together in tight judgment. It was a society run by men. Of course the women would suffer under their misguided rulings.
“What about ‘stubborn’ and ‘agitated’?” Kaitlin pointed to the written description.
“I guess it’s their way of saying she resisted her incarceration like a badass and fought when she realized she was trapped.” Sickening anxiety rushed through my veins.
We were trapped here, too. I hoped not for long, but the feeling of being held against my own free will caused a panicked frenzy within me. Like a caged animal, I felt the angst to pounce and attack anything that threatened me. ‘Stubborn’ and ‘agitated,’ they called it.
My eyes trailed down Emma’s medical form. A health survey listed her heart as ‘sound,’ lungs ‘sound,’ and genital health ‘good’. I paused, feeling her violation as her captors examined her after she’d already been traumatized in that area. Sickness rose in my stomach, sending acid up into my mouth.
A box at the bottom of the document listed ‘Prescriptives,’ and this section was filled with a variety of recommendations for treatment. Restraints was the first item listed. Followed by isolation.
“What the hell?” I choked. “She didn’t want to be here. She knew she didn’t belong. So she fought, and all they did was restrain her and imprison her in solitary confinement.”
“That’s wrong on so many levels.” Kaitlin shook her head. “It’s obvious just by looking at this one paper she was responding like a normal person who was being held prisoner for no reason.”
I studied the next lines of treatment, piecing together the old language and blotched ink.
“Ice-water therapy?” I said out loud. “What the hell is that?”
I thought back to the strange metal tub I’d seen on the first floor, then knew exactly what it meant. Submerged into icy water to shock her into compliance. My mouth quivered as tears pooled in my eyes again.
“I can’t believe this,” Kaitlin whispered.
“Me neither.” The page shook in my trembling hand. I was afraid to keep reading.
Somehow, Emma had made herself known to us. Maybe we’d seen her in an old photograph in the town library or in a history book in school. Maybe our head injuries and this location had triggered the memory. Either way, we’d seen her on the floor above—at the same time. My eyes shot wide as I thought of our first vision of her, hanging from the tree.
I scanned the document, studying the following treatments.
“Seizure therapy,” I stated with venom in my tone. “What the fuck is that?” My anger oozed from every syllable.
“Remember when Tom showed us the wards?” Kaitlin said. “He called this one the Excited Ward, but the others were the Untidy Ward, the Quiet Ward, and the Convulsing Ward. I bet they sent her to the Convulsing Ward.”
My head shook. Of course they did. They were trying to subdue her by whatever means possible. Each treatment became more extreme than the previous, until they reached their desired result—compliance.
“I’ve heard of shock treatment,” I said. “Maybe they used it to cause seizures. Probably hoping to force the devil out of the patients that way. Dumbasses.”
My head turned to the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
“Shit! Someone’s out there,” I screamed and jumped up.
Braden’s voice called from outside, “Grace! Kaitlin!” Oh my God, the relief that ran through me was unreal. I could breathe again.
Kaitlin ran to the door, frantically pounding on it. “We’re in here,” she screeched as if her life depended on it
Emma’s paper shook in my hand, and I folded it to take with me. Just as I made the first crease, the words of her final treatment orders jumped out at me. My heart plummeted, causing dizziness. I staggered and leaned against the wall, struggling to draw a full breath.
I stared at the words on the page in horror as they confirmed what we had seen on the notes in the doctor’s office.
‘Orbital lobotomy’.
Chapter 12
Flying into Braden’s chest and burying my face in it was embarrassing to me now. But the sight of him coming through the plywood barricade, between the shuttered ward and my freedom, burst such joy through me that I couldn’t stop myself from racing to him. Braden delivered my freedom to me, and I didn’t know what to do with my immense gratitude. I just stared at him every chance I got, absorbing all of his features.
I clambered alongside him, pushing out through the boarded-up door in case it somehow sealed itself back up again. My twitching muscles proved my belief that anything was possible at that point.
Once outside the ward, the exploded pieces of my mind settled into a more rational balance. I pulled the scattered bits of information together into something that made sense.
Braden. Nick. A truck with a ‘Maintenance’ sign on the side. And Tom.
Then the questions erupted.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, staring at Tom—a power drill hanging from his hand.
“I didn’t know you were in there,” Tom pleaded. “I saw the board had fallen away, so I fixed it.” He shook his head. “If I’d known you were in there…”
“It’s not Tom’s fault,” Braden interrupted. “It’s nobody’s fault.” He turned his gaze to me, lips pressed together. “It was dangerous to come here. Alone.” He glared at me.
I dropped my eyes from his. He was right. So many things could have gone wrong. And they had.
“Neighbors say they hear screaming from this place at night,” Tom added. “You just don’t know what goes on in there. It could be dangerous.”
“Screamin
g?” Kaitlin squeaked.
Tom nodded. “They say it could just be the wind. But sometimes, they wonder if it’s the remains of the screams that used to fill these halls and echo through the trees.”
I glanced at the bolted door and then up to the higher windows. Light reflected off the lead glass, creating ghostly shapes and subtle motion. I pulled my eyes away for fear of seeing something real.
He added, “Some say it comes from the wards. Others think it comes from the lost cemetery. Nobody knows for sure.”
“Wait,” I interjected. “Lost cemetery?”
Could it be the cemetery Kaitlin and I had been searching for?
“Yup.” Tom nodded. “The patients were buried there unceremoniously. The gravestones didn’t even have their names on them. Just small cement markers with the patient numbers engraved on the tops. A real shame.” He glanced up at the Excited Ward. “Some volunteers placed lovely granite name plaques there a few years ago, though. A decent gesture to offer the forgotten souls some dignity. Better late than never.”
A whimper crept out of Kaitlin. “Can we just go home?”
“Yup.” Braden wrapped his arm around my quaking shoulders, then moved with me away from the ward. Nick and Kaitlin followed as Tom climbed into his truck.
“Just don’t try anything like that again,” Tom said to us with a stern tone. “Someone could get hurt.” He passed another business card to Braden. “Call me if you want any more info on the place. No need to go breaking in.” He glanced at me with a side eye. And then he pulled the truck away and drove around the building out of sight.
As we walked toward the front of the ward, I stared at each of its boarded windows. Its locked secrets. Its mystery.
I needed to go back in.
Tom’s warnings made no difference. My curiosity had grown into an obsession, and I cursed at myself for not spending more time exploring inside. There were more rooms. More secrets that called to me. And I had to investigate and understand them better. It made no sense, but I just had to get back inside.
The urge was overwhelming, and I pulled away from Braden’s hold.
The Shuttered Ward Page 10
