The Redwood Asylum: A Paranormal Horror L.A. Detwiler (best books to read for self development .txt) 📖

But he always draws these childish, overhand pictures, and he never will explain them when prompted. You ask me, they make it worse because every time he draws them, his mood deteriorates. He talks to his invisible friends more frequently.”

I stared at 5B, glancing back at the pictures and tried to make sense of it. A broken childhood perhaps? Demons from the war? What a mysterious place the human mind can be. Anna’s pager went off, interrupting my speculation.

“Shit. Cody said they’re short-staffed on floor two and it looks like there’s some kind of an emergency. Can you finish up here? He seems to be okay. Just push your pager button if you need something. And I’ll tell security to head up here right away as backup.”

Before I could respond, she was gone. I was reminded that protocol at Redwood was a suggestion. The door shut and I was alone with 5B, left with his tray of meds, his warped mind, and the unsettling pictures. He stared at me, empty yet more alive now that we were alone.

“You’re really here. She said you would come,” he whispered, his craggy face alight with emotion. My stomach lurched. Maybe I should leave, come back later.

Stop being a wimp, I scolded myself. You wanted your chance to make a difference. Here it is.

“Who?” I asked, handing him his meds. He obediently swallowed the pills, opening his mouth for me to check and make sure they were gone.

“I don’t know her name. But she said you were coming. Said you would help, that you owed us.”

“Help with what?” I’d taken a few psychology classes and courses on mental illness. I’d dealt with some unstable patients at my last hospital. But I wasn’t sure if this was helping or hurting in the case of 5B.

He shook his head, giggling. “They disappeared. But not forever.” His giggle turned angry and then pained. Soon he was in the whirlwind of melancholy tinged with rage. He slammed his fists mercilessly on the bed. I took a step back.

“Leave me alone. Why can’t you leave me alone? It’s over. You’re gone. Stop it, go away. Get out of here. Please, please stop,” he begged, his eyes now fixated on the back corner of the room. I turned slowly to look, but there was nothing there. Of course. What had I expected? Obviously, 5B had many demons to battle. He was so far gone from the realm of reality. Maybe Anna was right. It was senseless to try. He was a lost cause. I turned back to him, shushing him and trying to soothe him with reassuring words. But before I could get another “it’s okay” out of my mouth, he had jolted upright, lunging toward me. My heart stopped. This was it.

His hands found my neck as he shoved me against the wall. I squeezed my eyes shut as his breath that smelled of orange juice and decay filtered into my nose. His hands were strong and sweaty but somehow cold to the touch. They tightened on my neck. I breathed slowly, forcing myself to open my eyes. I needed to appeal to him if I was going to win this fight. He was too strong for me to overpower. He held me in place against the stone wall but didn’t squeeze.

“Shh, I won’t bite. Now listen. Listen close.”

I nodded, tears welling. I told myself to be strong, that he saw me as an ally. In what, I didn’t know. And then came the chant. Over and over and over again.

“Little red, around the bed, the crooked nose.”

He repeated it for what felt like an eternity, my heart racing as I tried to decode his meaning. But his eyes were dark and wild, a hunger in them I couldn’t quite identify. A cold sweat broke out, and a fear I was no stranger to surged within me. Before I could scream out or collapse from sheer terror, though, he let go. He backed away so quickly, it was as if I’d imagined the whole scene. I clutched at my aching throat, smoothed my clothes, and tried to regain my composure.

5B returned to his bed and sat down as if our exchange was perfectly logical. It was nonsensical craziness. I breathed a sigh of relief as he rocked himself slowly, seemingly at peace. Dusting imaginary dirt off myself, I readjusted my clothes, smiled at 5B, and left the room, shaken but okay. I’d survived. See, it was okay. I reassured myself, inhaling and exhaling purposefully to calm my racing heart. So many had suffered at the violence of 5B, I’d learned. He’d even been restrained for a period of time, but eventually he’d been unchained when he’d grown despondent and complacent.

Somehow, he seemed to pose no risk to me because he thought I was a savior of sorts. What did he think I would save him from? And how would I convince him I was doing my job? I needed to keep him calm, play the game a bit. But to do so would require figuring out exactly what he wanted, who he thought he saw, and what it all meant.

I made some more rounds, thinking about 5B the whole time. It might be nonsense, or it might simply be a riddle no one had taken the time to figure out, I tossed in my mind over and over. If I could solve it, I could decipher him. I could make his life a little better, give some insight that would lead to real treatment.

That night, back at my apartment, I started a notebook, a list of things he’d said. I would do some investigating, get to the bottom of 5B if my life depended on it. In some ways, I supposed it just might.

The Staff at Redwood

Might we take a moment to discuss the staff at the glorious Redwood. With prestigious names gracing the halls, especially in its early years, one would expect the