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

desert oasis and start over. No more Jessica. No more nursing. Just me and a simple life away from all of the creepy shit that had taken over my existence.

I walked back the hallway to the bathroom, resolute for the first time in a year. I swung open the door and trudged to the sink to poor peroxide on my wound and cleanse myself of the disaster that had found me once more.

But as I glanced in the mirror to assess my appearance, I jumped. Behind me in the mirror, she stood. The flattened face girl in the yellow sequined dress, blood dripping down. I sucked in air and exhaled loudly through tight lips and misty eyes.

The figure didn’t move, didn’t speak. She didn’t emit the horrifying scream that I’d come to know her by. Instead, with her red pigtails, she stood behind me. And I knew in that moment the truth, even though no words exchanged. I knew exactly what this was all about.

I knew that there was no escaping the mess. I’d sealed it all in last year. I’d sealed myself into this weird fucking loop, tied myself to Redwood in more ways than most. I didn’t understand it all, couldn’t understand it all. But I knew that Yellow was warning me, despite everything. I couldn’t leave. Not yet. Because I owed a debt and solving the mystery of 5B was mine to pay. Leaving wouldn’t solve anything—and running didn’t make any of it disappear.

I’d come to learn that the hard way. Depressed, I leaned on the sink, staring into the bowl and wondering how the hell one got to this messed up point. And how the hell one escaped from it. I cleaned up my arm, fixed my hair, and went back to the desk where the drawings awaited me.

I would find rest for the kids and peace for 5B. And maybe somehow, in the process, I’d find a path to peace for myself.

Chapter Twenty

Itold myself when I came to Redwood that I wouldn’t call off, not like the last place. Sure, at Mercy, I only called off when things got really bad. It wasn’t enough to be noticed. But when I came to Oakwood, I promised myself it would be different at Redwood. Of course, in the asylum, people die more slowly and not all at once. It makes it a little easier.

Nevertheless, I called in sick after I cleaned my arm. I needed a mental health day, I assured Anna, who didn’t ask any questions. Perhaps she thought I was on my way out after all of the scenarios that had been happening. She didn’t ask many questions, and I didn’t give any answers. I just knew I couldn’t face another shift without solving at least a part of the mystery.

Besides, I had a mission. Find Emily Landing, the lady from the newspaper article. I really didn’t know enough people in the town to do proper research, but I knew I had to try. If I were going to unlock 5B’s history, it wouldn’t be in the files at Redwood. It wouldn’t be for the staff to tell me. It would be the people who knew him before who could give me insight as to his actions, his whereabouts.

And maybe why he murdered, I thought with a shiver.

I headed to the Oakwood library, a tiny little building in the center of town. The article had referred to her as former librarian of Oakwood, so I thought it was as good a place as any to start. After several sideways glances and suspicious interrogations, the head librarian finally told me where I could find Emily—who was thankfully still alive.

So my next stop of the day took me to the other end of town from Redwood, at the other corner of Oakwood. Oakwood Nursing Home was a modern building compared to the asylum. Glistening white in the sun, the building welcomed its ninety residents and empathetic staff with cheer and grace. At least that was what the pamphlet said in the waiting room as I waited to be checked in to visit with the woman who could be the key to everything. I had come to understand, however, that those glossy pamphlets lie. With the right wording and photographs, even the chamber of hell could look inviting.

***

“Oh dear, I don’t like to think about him. He was always odd. I told everyone there was something wrong. Coming and going at weird hours. And that look in his eyes. He wasn’t like the other young men in town. He was different. Of course, he was always different, even before he went off to war.”

Emily Landing chattered on over her cup of tea, wheeling back and forth in her room as I sat in the stiff chair. I’d been afraid she would be wary of me, but she had been the opposite. Welcoming and open, she’d been more than happy to talk to me—after telling me about her three grandchildren, her late husband, and her roommate at the nursing home who was a bit weird.

We sat in room 312, and I waited patiently for Emily to continue on.

“He lived in Oakwood with his parents. Moved here when he was twelve. They lived on the humbler side of town. His parents died while he was deployed. I think that messed with him. But as I said, he was always an odd one. Very socially awkward, and just creepy, you know? That look in his eyes was simply uncanny. Anyway, when he came back after deployment, he didn’t want to stay in that house. Supposedly he claimed his parents were talking to him through the walls. He moved into the rental beside my house. Rarely talked to him, but I kept a wary eye out. I didn’t trust him. I’ve always had a sense for that.”

I nodded. “So what did he do when he came back from Iraq?”

She continued on. “Well, he worked for a while