My little fairy, running away to find out how cruel the world can be.
Once she finds out what happened to her friend, she’ll surely need support.
If only I could reach her in time.
Summermount Facility – June 10th, 2013. Morning.
Only a couple of hours have passed, but it feels like an eternity. By now, Sebastian must have followed me all the way to Summermount. I know it won’t be long before he’s tracked me down, so I have to be quick. My number one goal right now is to break Ashley out, no matter the cost. Even if the idea alone is insane, I will find a way to get her out of there. Sebastian got me out of the other facility they brought me to. I’m alive and free, so if he could get me out, there’s no reason that I can’t get her out.
The first thing I do is find a shop in town that sells cutlery and buy a couple of big knives. The lady at the counter gives me a weird look, which I ignore as I tuck them in a plastic bag, pretending that I’ll use them for cutting onions. Oh, there will be crying all right, but not from cutting onions.
I have to protect myself somehow. I’ve learned to use a knife and I know the feel of flesh. If they won’t let me get her out, I’ll have to take her by force. I’ve stabbed someone once; I can do it again. Nothing’s going to stop me.
I can see the building from down the road, towering up from the skyline. It’s not far now. After I cross these gardens, it’ll only be a couple of minutes. It was only a few months ago that I last stood here and breathed my first free breath. After I had escaped the hospital, this seemed like such a milestone.
Now, all I feel is determination and willpower. These gardens are the past remnants of my soul, like the petals falling down from the trees whisked away with the wind.
As I pass traffic, it strikes me that there isn’t anyone moving toward the facility.
I cross the street to the building, staring up at its barred windows and steep walls. Just looking at it makes my skin crawl. Bile rises in my throat as I’m reminded of the fact that I was kept here as a prisoner, a victim, and that this building belongs to the men who used us for their own pleasure.
Before I go in, I take the knives from the bag as inconspicuously as possible and tuck them into my pants, covering the blade with my shirt. I can feel them move when I do, making me aware of what I’m actually doing. Insane. Yet I know these people who did this to us are just as insane, if not more.
I swallow and step toward the gates. Tentatively, I shove the metal door, which opens surprisingly easy. The screeching noise it makes as I push it and go inside only adds to my nervousness.
Acorns and nuts pile up underneath the unkempt trees, some of them rustling across the path. The pavement is botched and stained, weeds growing between the stones. The garden that I remember, the one that I wasted hours lost in my own thoughts in, is overgrown with plants that don’t belong there. The pond is barely visible, and when I go to look, the fish are floating on top.
I make a face and look around. There isn’t anyone to be seen, which is odd, because there are always patients wandering outside. No nurses, doctors, patients, or even other staff as far as I can see. Have they all gone inside for a gathering or something? I’ve only ever heard of that happening when there was a broadcast about weather alarms and such, but it’s a crystal clear day and there’s not a speck in the sky. It’s not the weather that’s keeping them inside … so why is there nobody around? And the building looks so … neglected. There are cracks in the walls, moss growing up to the top, and even vines trying to crawl up. Just a few months of time have wracked this building pretty good.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say nobody has been into the gardens for quite some time.
I go back to the entrance of the facility and open the door. A cold waft of air makes me shiver as I step inside. It’s not as hot as it used to be. On the contrary, I find myself clenching my coat. I’m too busy with the cold to notice the stains on the floor, the fallen furniture, and the broken lights. My brain just doesn’t process it, because it’s too unreal and the implications too difficult to accept.
Walking further into the building gives me the creeps, but I press on in the hopes of finding someone.
I call out. “Hello?” My voice echoes in the hallways, but nobody replies.
The further I get, the darker it becomes. As I stare into the rooms, which are all vacant, fear sweeps over me, terrorizing my heart until it almost beats out of my chest. There is nobody here. No matter where I look, it’s as if these people have disappeared from the face of the earth. This place is abandoned.