The Redwood Asylum: A Paranormal Horror by L.A. Detwiler (recommended reading txt) 📕

asylum. I knew that the screams from some of the treatment rooms weren’t imaginary or misplaced. It didn’t take long to realize that the thick walls didn’t completely mask all of the atrocities, horrors, and terrors happening in the modernized version of the asylum it once was.

I was left asking myself over and over: how could a place like this exist in modern times? Still, there are forgotten corners in every town, and Redwood is one example—mercifully for the outside world, but inhumanely for those who grace the hallways.

“This one’s a real nutjob,” Anna whispered to me outside of room 5B on the fifth floor, the one I was assigned to. Floor five housed the most difficult cases and was split into two wings. The A wing housed the criminally insane; the B wing housed those who weren’t criminals but were violent enough to become just that if the staff wasn’t careful. Each wing contained five rooms for a total of ten patients on my floor. How lucky I’d been to be chosen for floor five. . .

As I prepared to enter 5B, her comment startled me. I appraised the middle-aged nurse, wondering if she were testing me to see if I would be bothered by her term of nutjob, which certainly wasn’t professional or clinical but perhaps accurate. I decided to stay silent. I still had a lot to weigh out in the place. It wouldn’t do to make enemies already.

“Be careful around him. He seems harmless at first, but we’ve had quite a few incidents,” she continued.

I wanted to remind her that anyone at Redwood had a few incidents, especially those on floor five apparently. Instead, I stayed quiet, wondering what I’d see in room 5B that could be any worse than the other rooms. I had no idea at the time that I was about to flirt with destiny and damnation, that the man in the room with the dirty blond hair and eerily calm demeanor was about to set me on a hideous journey that I would never recover from, that would threaten my own sanity. He would potentially seal my inability to escape from the clutches of Redwood like so many who had gone before me.

I didn’t know it on that dismal day, of course. There are never any flashing lights or billboards that tell you when your world is going to careen off the path. It just happens, leaving us with whiplash, tears, and a churning sense of regret that we missed all the signs.

That day, I only knew that the job as a nurse at Redwood paid decently, was in my field, and took me far away from the disastrous mistakes I’d made over 1,000 miles away. Even though the place carried a weight of malevolence with it, it felt good to disappear. The dark forest, the thick walls of the stone building felt like a protective apron in a blast furnace, shielding me from the outer corners of the real world. In Redwood, time did seem to fade away and all realities of news, politics, and others dissipated, too. There seemed to only be Redwood, a community guarded in a forest alcove.

I pushed back a strand of hair and followed Anna through the locked door of 5B, a tiny window casting a small glow of natural light that mixed with the too-bright fluorescent bulbs into the starkly white room. I reminded myself not to worry because this was the “high security” floor. There was limited movement of the residents, and the rooms were tightly guarded. Still, a sinking feeling wormed its way in. After a single day of work, I’d realized that the extra security just meant that one of the security guards would check the doors to the floor a few extra times if he remembered. There was also a panic button under the desk in the middle of the floor, our headquarters. Whether it actually worked or not was something I planned to never have to investigate. I did a lot of wishful thinking in the early days.

Floor five, where I had been assigned, included rooms with padded cells where the residents were kept under special watch. While those in the B wing were afforded some privileges such as limited activity time for good behavior, it was closely monitored and rare. The other floors had as carefree of an atmosphere as one could expect to find in an asylum. Floor five, as my luck would have it, was stifling and restrictive.

I walked in and spotted him sitting on his cot, staring at his feet. His hair was sticking up in all directions, what little he had left. His skin was leathered but pale. How long since he’d seen the outside world? His eyes looked bright, but his body seemed dimmed somehow. I had no idea how old he was, couldn’t even fathom a guess. It was like Redwood was an odd time warp that simultaneously mummified its residents and also catapulted them into the aging process. I shuddered at the thought, wondering how Redwood was any better than a prison. It wasn’t, in short.

“Mr. Essic, time for your meds. Here, our new nurse, Jessica, will bring you the juice. Doesn’t juice sound good?”

Anna was calm and poised, her voice kind although condescending in an unavoidable way. He ignored her words until she said my name. When my name left her lips, I noticed how his gaze darted up and landed right on me. My stomach leaped as I feared the worst. Would he try to strangle me? What protection did I have? The only armed guard was stationed down the hall. Would he hear my screams in a place like this where they were so commonplace?

What 5B actually did, though, was perhaps worse. He stared straight into my eyes, and I watched the lines in his face soften. Recognition. He nodded, his lips a straight line. His poker-face would win thousands, doubtless, if it weren’t for his expressive eyes.

“Jessica. They