“How do you get away with it all?” I asked, emboldened. “Aren’t some of the residents from the state?”
“How do you think we make it work? If you have enough money to toss around, you can cover up anything you want. The state gives us some of our most profitable specimens. For the promise of a kickback, of course.”
It was as if the entire world crashed down around me. I felt like everything I thought I knew was suddenly unstable, relentlessly hopeless.
Anna’s husband cleared his throat behind her. I had forgotten they were there, so wrapped up in the twisted plot of the place.
“Do the workers know?” I asked.
Anna shrugged. “I’m sure some have suspicions. But that’s the thing, Jessica. Most people are blind to what they want to be blind to. This place gives people without hope, without anything really, a place to work. A place to feel like they matter and, more importantly, a place to feel like they’re the sane one. If they do suspect our secrets, they turn the other way. I thought you’d do that, too. You came here broken and young. But no, you had to go snooping. You had to try to play detective.”
For a moment, she looked down at the floor, and I thought I could believe her. I thought for a moment I really had disappointed her, that she was genuine. She raised her chin to speak once more. “We’re alone here, and we like it. You’ve brought nothing but trouble. And now you have to pay. Everyone has to pay somehow, you know.”
“What will we do with this one?” the younger officer asked, the one I had spoken to. He rubbed his hands as if he were a dog waiting for a tossed bone or a hunter waiting the final signal to fire the shot. Anna appraised me as if seeing me for the first time. My stomach dropped.
“Forest burial, or stuff the body in a garbage bag this time?” her husband added, and tears began to crowd my eyes. Anna studied me as disbelief and terror crept through my bones.
She walked to the table in the corner of the room. Her back to me, she tapped the surface with her bloodied fingernail. After a pregnant pause, she stepped in. “In spite of it all, I like this one. She’d be easy enough to break. And we have the room. Let’s keep this one. Put her in 5B. A little shock therapy, and she’ll be perfect.”
“But I don’t have any money. I don’t have family. It doesn’t make sense.”
Anna shrugged. “Nothing about this world makes sense, does it, Jessica? You know that. We need some fun around here. And you’re a pretty one. The families feel better paying us to keep their loved ones when there are a few pretty ones around. You’ll do just fine.”
“But you don’t want to take up a room for me.” My voice cracked with desperation. I knew I was grasping at invisible straws, but terror forced me to try.
Anna slammed her hand on the desk. “We told you that no one leaves here. We warned you. The smart ones leave on the first day. The stupid ones stay, and we own them. The even stupider ones stay and try to buck the system we have in place, try to play hero. They end up in the worst positions of all.”
“How many of us are there here? Like me?” I asked, trembling.
Anna counted on her hand. “You’ll be number three. We can’t keep too many of you, after all. Too many mouths to feed for free. We’ve had to dispose of quite a few over the years, although I’ll say I’ve gotten better at picking the ones who will follow the bandwagon. Who will do what we say. Who don’t have the moral compass to question anything. Still, every once in a while, a rogue one gets by me like you. It’s okay, though. We need ones like you sometimes, Jessica. It’s good to have insurance with the staff who have been here a while, who know too much. They know what happens if they squeal on anything happening here. You three serve as warnings, don’t you?”
“You didn’t warn me. Why didn’t you warn me?” I cried out.
“We tried. You didn’t listen. You couldn’t leave it alone.”
I thought back to all the odd statements about not leaving, all the threatening glares from Anna.
A sudden realization struck me. “5B. Was he one of us? Did he work here at some point?”
Anna laughs. “Oh, you are going mad. Of course not. He was just psychotic. We didn’t realize how crazy he was until you solved the mystery. A lot of good that did, huh? Don’t you see? It’s best to leave things alone that you can’t understand.”
“I’m sorry. I am. Please.” I hated myself for begging, but strength and courage don’t always flare up in the sight of destruction.
“It’s too late, darling. It’s just too late.”
I realized that all the hauntings, all the ghosts. This was a dark place. It had always been. I thought of the painting out front paying tribute to Francis Weathergate, the founder. Did he know what he was creating? Was this place ever meant to help, or was it designed to hurt? Was it designed to make money at all costs and exploit the weak?
It couldn’t be happening, not in 2020. Places like this didn’t exist, and people didn’t get away with murder, with kidnapping.
But they did. I thought of the man on floor two. I didn’t believe him. He looked me in the eyes, and I didn’t believe him. Who would believe me? Redwood was a place you came to disappear—and if you didn’t make yourself disappear, they did it for you.
I wanted
