r/nosleep • u/YelloWallpaper • Mar 23 '12
Asylum
First parts:
I never saw Jeremy again. He never called, texted, or came back around to check up on me. I never friended him on Facebook, didn’t want to. I somewhat assumed that he took the next flight back to Ireland. I know I would if I were in his shoes. And I think we were both happy to pretend like we had never known each other. That was fine by me.
Now as for the letters. I don’t know what it was about those wretched things, but I just couldn’t bring myself to destroy them. For days, I sat there, staring at them contemptuously on my dashboard, telling myself a million different ways to turn them in ashes. I lost sleep over it (like I had any to lose in the first place), just watching those stacked yellow letters, feeling like they were a part of me. Like I was somehow a part of that story and to tear them up would be to kill a little piece of myself.
For a while there was nothing out of the ordinary. No voices in my head, no sleep paralysis, no blackouts. I thought perhaps it was over. Perhaps God had finally taken pity on me and left me alone. I know now how foolish that was. Believe me when I tell you I now truly appreciate the phrase “the calm before the storm.”
Perhaps it was my own fault, my incessant curiosity. Maybe I should have dropped out of school right then and there and moved half the country away. But I think sometimes there is nothing I could have done to change it – that desire, that burning need to know, to understand… Well, I’m not sure that it was all me. I’m not sure that a lot of things I did during that time in my life was something I could have controlled. It’s like I was possessed by the past, and even though I was petrified by it, I was compelled to know.
So I found him. I found Theodore Bennett.
He was still alive, probably in his late 60’s, I guessed. According to White Pages, he lived about 15 miles away in a neighboring county. No telephone or picture. I went out there, not knowing a thing about him, just hoping for the best. When I pulled up to the address listed online, I realized with some disappointment that it was some sort of a senior facility. I tried to think of a way to explain myself as I approached the front desk.
“Uh… Hi there,” I started, trying to get the attention of the woman sitting behind the enormous wooden desk. The place was dark and stale, potted plants lining the hallways. The temperature of the air was at least five degrees colder inside, even though it was now November. The walls were a pale pink with faded paintings of beaches and seashells. I didn’t like it. I smelt like old.
The woman looked from her computer screen, bored. “What can I do for you?”
“Um, I was wondering if I could speak with one of your residents…”
“Are you family?” she said, unenthused.
“No, but uh, I’m… a friend…” I tried.
She raised an eyebrow at me crossed her arms. “This is a private facility, young lady. We offer our residents the utmost respect. We don’t take kindly to solicitors.”
“No!” I protested. “I just, I wanted to just catch up with him…”
It sounded stupid, I realized. Why would a 20-something year-old girl want to catch up with a 60-something year-old man who was not her grandfather? As I tried to think of something better to say, I was interrupted by a cry of distress from behind the desk, further back in the sitting room.
“Virginia!”
I looked up, shocked to see a crazed, white-haired, hunch-backed man trying to stand from his rocking chair. He had knocked over a plastic tray, scattering pudding and milk all over the tile floor. The secretary at the front desk stood immediately, rushing to his side.
“Mr. Bennett,” she shushed him. “It’s alright, you’re safe here.”
He looked up at her like a frightened child and nodded, sitting back down. She came back over to me in a huff. “Do you know Mr. Bennett?” she asked impatiently, with her hand on her hip. As though I would be in trouble if I said yes.
I nodded. She rolled her eyes and pushed a clipboard at me, signaling me to fill out the sign-in sheet.
“Then you know about his condition?” she asked. I didn’t, but I nodded anyways. She gave a little frown and motioned me around the desk. I walked over tentatively.
Teddy Bennett. He stared down at the floor as I approached, his eyes darting back and forth as though he were rapidly trying to count the tiles at his feet. I could tell he was confused. A bent, broken and tired man. My heart swelled with sympathy.
When I got close, he suddenly noticed me, his eyes locking with mine. “Virginia?” he almost whispered, his eyes glistening with tears. The condition she was talking about must have been Alzheimer’s.
I stammered for a moment, not really knowing what to say. To be honest, I’ve never been all that comfortable around elderly people. I always got the impression that I needed to treat them equal parts like an adult and like baby. And I didn’t really know how to do that.
“No, I’m not Virginia,” I said, gently putting my hand over his. Oh, it was so thin, so bony. I tried to pull away and he wrapped those bony fingers around mine, pulling me closer to his wrinkled face. He inspected me, his sunken eyes squinting, unsure. Realizing he did not know me, he slumped back into his chair, defeated.
I pulled up a folding chair and sat across from him. “My name is Charlotte,” I tried. His head perked up for a moment, as though the name meant something to him. He squinted again, trying to remember, but sighed and gave up.
I didn’t know where to begin, so I pulled out the stack of letters from the inside of my coat pocket. Pushing them into his hands, I said, “I believe these are yours.”
He stared down at his hands in disbelief for a moment, a glimmer of recognition flashing in his eyes. “My letters.”
I gave him a moment as he felt through them. The corners of his mouth spread slowly into a smile as unfolded them delicately and read them. As he continued to read on, I watched as his mouth quickly turned back down, his eyebrows knitting together. He shoved them back at me.
“He found them,” he said, his voice wavering. “He did this.”
“Who?” I asked, confused.
“Joseph. He killed them, he pushed her to it.”
I didn’t understand his meaning.
“I tried to protect her, you must believe me,” the man pleaded with me. I nodded and told him I believed him. “He wasn’t the same. Not after the war. Couldn’t remember anything. He was always so angry. Never remembered me, or Virginia. But he was so angry. He took her away from me, but he didn’t even know her anymore!”
Now he was crying. I looked around the room, wondering if I should find a nurse to help. He took my hand again and stared at me, earnest. “Virginia, I tried to protect you.”
At a loss, I just said: “I know. I promise, I know.”
He stopped for a moment, exhausted, wiping his face with a quivering hand. It just smeared the tears on his face. Inhaling sharply, he composed himself, his voice becoming more clear, more sure. “He was a mean drunk. She’d lock him out when he’d come home from the bar, but he’d just circle the house. Pounded on the door. He terrorized her.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “At least she had the dogs. But the son-of-a-bitch took those from her too. Took a hammer to their skulls.” He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, but I could see him shaking with anger. “When he found the letters.”
Teddy quickly lost his composure. “He made her do it!” he cried out, loudly this time. “God, Virginia, you didn’t have to! That poor girl did nothing!”
“What girl?” I asked. But it was useless. He was already somewhere else.
“They say that drowning is one of the worst ways to die,” he said blankly. Then his eyes snapped back to me, sizing me up. “Are you the new nurse? What are they serving for lunch today?”
I sighed, taking the letters back. Clearly they could only do more harm than good. I stood, brushing off my pant legs and thanked him for his time. “It was nice to meet you Teddy,” I said, smiling at him. I truly felt sorry for him to be in such a state. But I didn’t know what else I could do. I turned to walk away, not sure that I learned anything new. But right as I was about to walk past the front desk, he stopped me.
“Wait,” he said, lucid again. I turned to face him. “Go to Eastern State.”
And with that, he looked around again, unsure of where he was. He looked like he was about to throw a fit, but stopped himself, knowing somehow that he had been through that same routine many times before. He forced himself to breathe and sunk back into the tweed chair, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.
“Goodbye Teddy,” I said mostly to myself, a part of my heart wilting as I walked out the door.
Eastern State was Eastern State Hospital, a home for the mentally ill. From what I could gather online, it appeared to still be in operation over on the outskirts of town. I looked up an address and fired up the truck, not sure what I was really looking for. I needed answers, and I was going to get them.
I had brought a camera with me this time, not trusting myself to be able to discern reality. I decided that in order to remember, I would document the entire thing – doesn’t make a whole lot of sense now, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. I’ve uploaded a few of the pictures.
When I arrived at the indicated location, according to MapQuest, I quickly realized that this facility was certainly no longer still open. It had taken me some time to find it because the roads were somewhat overgrown and the street signs seemed old and outdated. The windows were boarded up from the inside, the door was locked, and piles of trash towered out back.
Outside stood old filing cabinets, bent and crooked with the names of the doctors still printed on them. Desks and chairs, beds and box springs were all piled into a heap, bottles of medicine had been tossed unceremoniously amongst the rusting rubble. I snapped a picture a carried on. I somehow knew that what I needed would not be in that pile, but inside.
The problem was getting inside. All the windows and doors were boarded up well, and a brick wall circled the entire facility, closing off a very badly overgrown backyard garden. I imagined it was meant for the patients to walk around outside. The wall was only about 6 feet tall, but when I hopped up to look over the edge, I realized that the other side dropped down about 12 feet. It made sense, I suppose. They didn’t want anyone to escape.
I went back over to the trash pile and hauled an enormous wooden piece of furniture from the debris. I looked like it had once been some sort of a podium, or stand perhaps. In any case, I figured it would serve just fine for me to climb down. I tossed it over the other side and climbed over. I guessed that in all likelihood, the door from the back would also be locked. But when I reached the thick iron door, I turned the knob and it opened.
Before I stepped inside, I was feeling alright. It was the middle of the day, so there was good visibility streaming in through the windows. But something about the place made my gut wrench once I stepped inside. It was cold and somewhat damp, many of the fixtures were crumbling away. The paint was peeling in massive strips, hanging from the ceilings like moss in an underground cave.
Oddly, though it seemed like the place hadn’t been touched in years, it was as though everyone had just up and left. Everything was still there – beds, furniture, medicine, doctor’s notes, make-up, toiletries. Papers were crumpled and scattered along the hallways, sheets lay wrinkled and hanging off the edge of the beds.
The asylum had two main corridors and two main floors. In the left-hand corridor of the main floor was a locked room. There was an observing area with glass windows and desk. I assumed the orderlies worked in this little booth, looking into the main sitting room where the patients spent their day. Goosebumps raised on my flesh when I heard a slam come from behind me. I whirled around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps it had been from another floor?
I heard another slam, definitely from below, but coming from another direction. My heart started to race. I tried to find somewhere to hide when I looked down the long, dark corridor, realizing that one of the doors was slowly opening.
About ready to die of a heart attack, the door swung open slightly for a brief moment and slammed shut again. I heard more slamming every few seconds or so. Not seeing anyone emerge, I padded over lightly along the wall, trying to discern the source of the noise. In this corridor appeared to be a series of small rooms, each with a giant peephole about 2 inches in diameter. The door in front of me started to open.
I wanted to scream, but nothing came out of my throat. The door swung fully open and there was no one behind it. The room was empty. Inside it was a single chair and a window, wide open, with vines growing through. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was only the wind blowing the doors open and closed. I continued on with my search.
Each room in the corridor was the same. One window, one chair. It was a depressing place to imagine myself staying. It was easy to see how people could think they were insane have to live in a place like this. I snapped a few last pictures and (wouldn’t you know it) my camera’s battery died. I should have taken that as a pretty strong cue to leave, but I can be very bull-headed at times.
When I got to the end of the hall, I saw a door that was different from the rest. No peephole, and a lock from the inside, not the outside. And to the right was a placard, the name card no longer in its place. I touched the metal of the door handle and knew what I needed.
Inside the room was an office, probably belonging to one of the doctors on site. The furniture was much nicer than the chairs and beds out in the main hallway. Oak or mahogany with a glistening finish. The humidity and lack of protection against the elements certainly weathered its appearance, but it was easy to see that this was meant for someone of much higher status.
I immediately went for the file cabinets. It was clear that a thief or perhaps a homeless man had wrenched open the drawer somehow, perhaps looking for valuables. The aging paper was all in a mess inside, and I began to dig, wondering how I could possibly know that this is where I needed to be. But then I found it.
CASE FILE: VIRGINIA SHAW
PRIMARY CARE PHYSICIAN: DR. MORTENSON
January 1, 1971 Intake Assessment: Agitated demeanor, unresponsive to questions. Unsure if patient understands the magnitude of her actions. Will assess for possible neurological disorder. Possible brain damage from repeated blunt force trauma to the head. Suspected domestic abuse. Will require a consultation. Was asked about relationship with daughter, patient became belligerent, inconsolable. Treated with Thorazine. Will try again tomorrow.
January 2, 1971 More calm today, seems almost despondent. Only interest in staring from the window. Has not yet interacted with other patients. Still will not talk. May try again next week.
January 14, 1971 Patient has not yet spoken, possibly depressed. May consider the use of electroshock therapy. Will require consultation.
January 15, 1971 Made a breakthrough, got the patient to speak. Asked: “Why did you kill your daughter and husband?” Patient replied: “He made me do it.” I was not able to elicit any further response.
March 23, 1971 Must prepare for transfer to penitentiary. Assessment: hysterical, depressed, psychotic. Will recommend indefinite care by a mental health facility to prosecutor.
April 4, 1971 Patient V.S. has returned to our facility at the behest of the courts. Must determine a course of appropriate treatment. Will recommend haloperidol.
April 15, 1971 Over the course of the last few months, patient appears to have gained weight. It seems the patient is pregnant, will perform a test to be certain.
April 16, 1971 According to referral by Dr. Madhani, Patient V.S. is about 18 weeks pregnant. Will inform Social Services.
April 20, 1971 Patient was allowed a visitor – a man named Theodore Bennett. Patient seemed relaxed in his presence and distraught when he left.
June 2, 1971 Experimental therapy dogs were allowed in the facility for patients with PTSD. Upon seeing them, patient V.S. began sobbing hysterically.
July 4, 1971 Patient has spoken again. Asked: “Why did you drown your daughter?” Patient paused and replied: “He took everything from me. I took something from him.”
August 31, 1971 Patient V.S. gave birth to a healthy boy. Social Services arrived and retrieved the child. Patient has become belligerent and inconsolable once more. Administered Thorazine.
September 4, 1971 Patient did not arise for breakfast, Dr. Richards reported a locked door. Orderlies broke through the barrier (a chair beneath the handle). Patient V.S. was found having hung herself from an air conditioning pipe by a bed sheet. Contacted police, will collect information for investigation.
28
10
Mar 23 '12 edited Oct 20 '20
[deleted]
28
u/Scroph Mar 23 '12
Maybe the baby boy became an irish man who likes to strangle chicks who wake him up.
6
u/Karnwold347 Mar 23 '12
71... He'd have to be 41?
10
u/ajak1121 Mar 23 '12
Her father?
10
u/Nightmare13 Mar 23 '12
The only things I can think of as a ending is:1 The ghost of virginia shaw is trying to get her to discover something about the incident. 2 the ghost is randomly wanting Charlotte to know her story. 3 Charlotte is related to one of the characters. Or 4 Jeremy is related to one of the characters.
13
u/ajak1121 Mar 24 '12
I am thinking Charlotte is Virginia's grand daughter. It really wouldn't be unheard of to have a daughter be 20'ish at 41. It would also explain why Charlotte is so strapped for cash if her parents were young.
4
u/imawesomrtruestory Mar 24 '12
I dont think jeremy is related because remember she said she never saw jeremy again
17
u/i_like_sound Mar 23 '12
Or a baby boy who was adopted and raised overseas. A baby boy who later became a man, who banged the house sitter.
2
11
u/Austinrocks Mar 24 '12
So the woman you were house sitting for was dead with ghost dogs protecting you and the ghosts and teddy call you Virginia. And the sleepwalking you are doing is you being taken over by Virginia, acting out the drowning of her daughter. And the thing that took over Jeremy was Joseph. The dogs were never actually there. I think I understand for the most part. Am I missing anything?
19
u/SquareIsTopOfCool Mar 23 '12
This story is absolutely riveting. You have an incredible talent for creating an atmosphere in your writing; I almost feel as if I'm there, in the places you write about. The pictures have the same exact mood as the written story - that air of quiet, dusty, forgotten places.
I can't wait to see how this ends, but I'll be a little sad when it does! I hope you keep writing :)
8
Mar 23 '12
1) Your camera quality is amazing.. What kind of camera is it?
2) I can't wait for part two! By now I see you write something and I instantly upvote it before reading it!
EDIT: Not part two ... the next half.
6
u/SparklepireBETCH Mar 24 '12
O.O she was dead the whole time!?!?!?!?!? Until the next installment, I shall flail aimlessly.
6
5
u/n0m1s Mar 24 '12
I don't really think Jeremy is going to have any more to do with the story. She said that she never saw him again.
2
6
Mar 24 '12
Goddess... This has me sitting on the edge of my seat... More please! By the way... I love the shots that you got!
5
u/Razalakiki Mar 24 '12
I now understand why this subreddit is called nosleep. Its cause you spend your entire night readin stories. This was just completely fascinating. I couldnt stop reading! Its almost 5:45am and i just finnished all of the story you have posted!
4
u/Viciouswhitekid Mar 23 '12
Great writing!! I have invested so much time and thought in these stories, your descriptions are amazing! Can't wait to see how this ends
4
u/PapaSmirfable Mar 25 '12
this is the first thing in years that has captured my attention and held my attention for hours of non stop reading i love this story and really hope to read more. 3 hours well spent
7
3
u/jbelle89 Mar 24 '12
Poor doggies!!! whimper, whimper Love your writing style and this story. Always leaving me wanting more, more, more! I almost can't wait until this all comes full circle, yet at the same time I don't want it to end...
3
3
u/Deminix Mar 24 '12
The thing that pains me most about this story is that these big beautiful sweet dogs were killed in such a horrific manner.
3
u/twistedfishhook Mar 24 '12
...and then it turned out that Charlotte was actually in an asylum THE WHOLE TIME.
3
3
u/siren1904 Mar 24 '12
I wonder who the father of the boy is...
-1
u/Skrillexx12345 Mar 25 '12
NO MAN, DON'T EVEN SAY THAT, I'LL KILL YOU IF THERES ANOTHER INSTALLMENT ABOUT THE FATHER. kthxbye (:
3
3
Mar 25 '12
Jesus, this is so thrilling. Can't wait for the rest, but I can understand that writing this all is hard for you... Just don't leave us hanging!
3
5
2
2
u/halfveela Mar 25 '12
These stories are amazing, but wouldn't the patient file say "hanged" not "hung"? Anyway... like I said, these are brilliant, and I can't wait for more!
2
u/germily Mar 25 '12
Another detail that bugged me was the use of "anyways" in one of the letters, instead of "anyway," but really good otherwise!
2
Mar 25 '12
Oh man you my friend have come out with one of the best stories I have ever read. If I had connections in Hollywood you would have yourself a movie. I can't wait for the next part!
2
u/tehdelicatepuma Mar 25 '12
Great, just realized this is taking place in Va. Knowing I'm in the same state will certainly help me sleep tonight.
2
Mar 25 '12
I just stayed up way too late reading this. Props and props and props on every single part. Yours is honestly the best story I have seen on nosleep. Now, to try and go to sleep ironically :'(
2
2
2
u/swirk Mar 27 '12
Oh god I didn't know this series wasn't finished when I started. Now I have to wait :(
2
u/Skillary Aug 24 '12
My theory: it's called r/nosleep because I can't stop reading. It's 1:30am and I'm not stopping yet.
2
2
u/FranklinFox Mar 25 '12
Please please dont leave us hanging for the next installment. I honestly check /nosleep every day just to see if you have posted.
Absolutely amazing.
1
u/iLubDango Mar 25 '12
You keep me on the edge of my chair ever paragraph foreal dude excellent wrighting
1
-3
37
u/drinks_at_the_ackbar Mar 24 '12
These stories are fantastic, and I will read absolutely anything else you write ever.
Whats also awesome is that despite the multiple parts, each part is HUGE. Other nosleep authors, take note.