Jack, as Roxy had told me. He’d been in 1A for the past couple of years.
“Sad story, that one,” she’d said. I could see her normally chipper mood soften as I asked her why. He was still banging on the door.
She stuffed her hands in her pockets, pulling me aside. She looked around as if to make sure we were alone. Her voice quieted, and I leaned in, ready to take in what seemed to be a dark secret.
“He used to work here.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, stunned. I thought about his assurances that day I met him, when he swore he wasn’t crazy. Panic settled into my chest and didn’t let go as Roxy continued on.
“Yes. He was a janitor here last year. Always a bit kooky, to tell you the truth. Always seemed—distant somehow. Out of touch. But not long after he started, he just snapped, I guess. Went mad. Rumor has it he brought in pig’s blood, tried to get one of the other residents to drink it. Then went crazy and killed the poor kid. I don’t know, poor guy. He did lose his family, his wife and son, to a drunk driver a few years back. But he just went mad. Anna, God love her, worked out a plea deal, though. So he’s been here ever since.”
My chest heaved, but I tried not to let on.
“That’s sad. So how did Anna manage that one?”
“Friends in high places and all that. Good thing, though. Poor Jack would’ve ended up in prison for a long time. No one wants that, do we?”
I turned to the banging.
“Is he okay?”
She shrugged. “He does that from time to time. Tries to convince us he isn’t mad. As if. Anyway, if you want to go try to calm him down, you can. Otherwise, he’ll wear himself out eventually. The room checks are all done. I’m going to go do some paperwork then maybe take a break if you’re all good.”
I nodded as she smiled and walked away, whistling as she strolled down the hallway. I turned to 1A, telling myself to act calmly.
When I approached the door and looked in, he followed protocol of the floor. He backed to the corner of his room and turned so I could enter. The cell was clean and tidy. There were a few photographs around, I noticed. But he was anything but calm. Once inside, he turned around. His hands were at odd angles, shaking violently. His murky eye, bloodshot and crazed, perused me.
“Thank God you’re back,” he whispered. “I’ve been praying they’d send you down. Please. Please, listen. I’m not crazy. I swear. I know everyone says that, but I’m really not.”
I wanted to discard his comments as just that—crazy. I was in an insane asylum, after all, for all intents and purposes. Still, he’d worked here. He’d been one of us. And the longer I spent in Redwood, the more I realized there was something dark going on. Not just the spirits. Not just the residents. There were too many things that just didn’t add up.
“Can you help me? Please?” he asked, his hand shaking.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” I whispered into the air, feeling his desperation but not knowing what to do. And it was true. I felt my own hands shake. It was too much. I was feeling the pressure, just like I had in what seemed like a lifetime ago. I took a deep breath, trying to remind myself to stay calm. But 5B, Redwood, and now this. It was too much.
“Please. Please. Don’t be naïve, girl. Look around you. The spirits around here aren’t restless for no reason. And the dead aren’t the ones to fear, anyways.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing it would all disappear. Why couldn’t I just disappear?
“It’s too much,” I murmured, tears ready to fall.
He sighed, turning to face the corner. I opened my eyes, and he turned back. I saw pity in his eyes and despondency. Maybe he realized I wasn’t the savior he hoped for. I was just another fool strung along in the ominous, forgotten place.
“I know. I know. But please. At least get yourself out of here before it’s too late. You can’t trust them. Get out while you can. Leave Redwood in your rearview mirror. And when you get where you’re going, maybe remember us. Maybe tell someone about us. Because you could be our only hope.”
I studied him.
“Please, I’m not crazy. I know it’s easier to believe that. I believed it, too. But there’s so much at play here. So much at stake. Think about. You’re smart. You’re a nurse. Why would they hire people who are so grossly underqualified, who are all alone? What are they hiding?”
“I-I don’t know,” I replied, but the thought had crossed my mind so many times.
He stepped forward. I stayed put.
“And the fifth floor. Why would those people be up there? The criminally insane? Why would the state pay for them to come to a private institution? Use your head. There’s so much more going on. Anna has it all going on. It’s what I figured out when she got me locked up. I didn’t do it, not what they said.” He gesticulated wildly now as if the memories were too much. I backed toward the door, wondering why I was entertaining it all.
“Why would Anna want to lock you up?”
He scoffed at this, snickering at me. “Don’t you see, darling? It always comes back to the money. Haven’t you realized that? The Weathergates didn’t get rich by being charitable. It’s always been about the money here. And it isn’t just rich families who stow their loved ones away that make this place money. The absolutely psychotic ones have value, too, even if they don’t have wealthy families. Everything has a price—even the rotten brains of society. And Anna would do
