“They’ll get you if you’re not careful,” he whispered.
I wanted to ask who he meant, but I knew better. It seemed that the less you knew at Redwood, the happier you were. Still, I made a mental note to find out his story, to search for the truth about floor two’s resident in 1A. If nothing else, I could put his eerie words to rest.
***
I was stowing away some supplies in the tiny broom closet at the end of the hall of floor two, thinking about 1A’s words when the door clinked shut. The darkness of the closet drowned me, disorienting me so much I couldn’t move.
“Hey,” I yelled, thinking someone had shut me in by mistake. Of course, the staff members were few and far between that night, so who could it be?
“Hey,” I yelled louder, creeping along the shelving system toward where I thought the door was. A muffled noise resonated on the other side of the door. The door was a normal door, not thick enough to enhance soundproofing qualities. What the hell? I twisted the knob. Locked. Go figure.
I pounded on the door, shouting, as panic ensued. I hated the feeling of being locked in. Growing up, I’d take the stairs rather than the elevator to avoid the metal box of death. Even a shirt that was too tight made me feel trapped in a way that incited unendurable anxiety.
“Help,” I shrieked, but the only response was another muffled noise. I could feel that someone was on the other side of the door. Chills spread as I realized they weren’t opening the door. Whoever was on the other side clearly wanted me in the closet, locked away. Shit.
I pounded some more but was momentarily distracted by a crashing behind me. Items fell from the shelf into the blackness as if a tornado were whipping through. I covered my head, terrified that one of the heavy items would crash into me as I backed myself against the door. The knob burrowed in my back. The violent destruction continued, and my hands quivered. I couldn’t breathe. I just needed air, my lungs craving it. The next thing I knew, I was the one flying backward, tumbling out into the hallway of floor two.
“Jessica? What happened?” I looked up from the floor to see Roxy’s familiar face. She leaned down to examine me.
“I’m fine,” I said, pushing back a strand of hair. My hands were still shaking.
“You don’t look fine. What happened in there?”
The hallway light now illuminated the closet enough to see the destruction. I sat up, and Roxy helped me to my feet.
“I . . . I don’t know. The door was locked and then stuff started flying.”
Roxy sighed, shaking her head. “This place. Honestly.”
She shut the door, insisting that cleanup in there was someone else’s problem. I walked with her down to the desk in the center of floor two.
“I was heading down the stairwell to floor one when I heard your screams. You have some lungs on you, girl.”
I tucked my hands into my pockets, hoping to quell their shaking. “I don’t know how anyone stays in this place with all of this,” I admitted.
Roxy snorted. “You’re telling me. I think about quitting every day.”
“What keeps you here?” I asked.
She shrugged, her face going serious for a moment. “The patients. I guess I feel sorry for them. I mean, we get to leave every night, you know? They don’t. And, well, if I’m being honest, getting a job anywhere else isn’t easy for people like me.”
I studied her, hoping she would elaborate. When she didn’t, I decided it was best to let it go. Redwood had enough secrets to worry about.
A few hours later, when Brett showed up to take over floor two, I climbed the stairs to floor five, an enigmatic haven in the island world that was Redwood. I checked in with Anna, who filled me in on the trials of 2A on our floor. She had tried to commit suicide three times back home, and during her last attempt, she’d pulled a knife on her mother. She was only twelve. I shuddered as Anna relayed the tale of her unpredictable behavior the past few hours and her incessant wailing.
“Anything interesting happen to you on floor two?” Anna asked.
I thought about 1A. I thought about the broom closet. I studied Anna, wanting to divulge it all to her but thought about her reaction the other day over the stapler. It wouldn’t do for her to think I was a nutcase, too.
“Nothing really. Just went through the routines.”
She nodded, staring at me. “Any more paranormal activities?” she asked with an edge of playfulness but an underlying hint of skepticism.
“Nope,” I lied as I straightened paperwork on the desk. I looked up at Anna, smiling. “Thanks for everything, Anna, these past couple of weeks. I appreciate all of your help training me.”
“No problem. As soon as you started, I knew you’d be a keeper. It isn’t easy working this job, so when you find someone who will stick around, we like to keep them here, you know? Wouldn’t want all of our crazy secrets getting out, would we?” she joked.
I stared at her, thinking about how many secrets she knew from being at Redwood so long. Thinking about what it would be like to work there for so many years. Part of me couldn’t imagine it, but part of me also couldn’t imagine leaving. I was too invested in the story, somehow. It was like once you started working there, you were woven into the fabric that was Redwood.
Bloody, dripping Redwood.
I checked on the rooms in the B wing, dealing with a psychosis about bats, some tears, and some overall paranoia. Nothing out of the ordinary. I took a breath before heading into 5B, wondering what I’d find.
He was sitting at his desk, predictably so. The red crayon was in his vice-like grip this time, his scribbles maddeningly fast. He didn’t even pause to look
