Brinkford asylum. A place that was once used to house the criminally and mentally ill. 1,593 inmates died here, from records, one person died per day. People say this place was peaceful, but is only what the media said. Blinding the community from the truth. And now the truth arises from the dusty depths of the records, and the memories.

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The metal bars of the over-sized bird cage held in Shelia. Her feces caked hands gripped the cage as she screamed. She screamed loud and long, forcing the others to scream as well. Screaming caused her to clutch her bald, scarred head, dirt feces and blood covered body. The aroma of rot, decay and death was very much evident in the room. Shelia’s eyes flashed around, but all she could see were the vague outlines of those who were locked in with her. Still screaming, she fell back, and wrapper her bony arms around her legs, gripping and them. She pulled her skin-and-bone legs to her chest and rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth. The loud screams died down, turning into soft whimpers as she continued to rock herself. Her torn and tattered clothing made her look like a small child, when she was really thirty-seven years of age. But, closing her eyes, she saw the blood covered hands and her small child Anastasia and sister, Elizabeth hanging. Flash backs from her past that have always haunted Shelia. The memories were the reason why she was emitted into Brinkford. Shelia started trashing around and the screaming arose again. Jumping her to feet, Shelia’s hands gripped the bars of the cage with a wild look in her eye. She was going through the never ending cycle of her own personal Hell.
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James was in his room at Brinkford when Thelma was sent to bring him to the Study Room. He didn’t do anything bad today, that he could think of. Then again, he has short term memory loss. What did he know? He didn’t remember why Thelma clutched his arm so tightly and dragged him. He didn’t remember waking up. More importantly, James didn’t remember killing his wife and only niece. He just didn’t remember anything. Only that his name was James, and he did something bad. Very bad. The flickering light shown softly down on James, as he sat in the black plastic chair in the Safety Room. The constant buzz of flies was quiet compared to the footsteps circling him. “Releasing the bad blood, James.” The people in white coats told him. What the meant he didn’t know, but in all honestly he barely remembered being told that. So, James stayed quiet, humming a tune from when he was a boy and trying to peer into the darkness. He tried moving his hands to scratch an itch on his nose but he couldn’t. His hands were chained down. Confused he tried to remember, and got a foggy memory of being told it was “Only a precaution.” So James just accepted it and sat. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting still but he knew it was for a long time. Feeling an ache in shoulder and upper back, James slouched a small amount. Ahh, much- CLINNGG! James yelped. A metal disk hit his knee and fell to the floor.
“No slouching!” a voice yelled out of the darkness.
James nodded in response. He received a blow from a blade, on the arm and James called out again, in pain. Out of confusion, James was yelling at the unseen figure to stop, but rather he got slapped across the cheek. Rage coursed through his veins and he started to shake. Another hit. This time, harder and on the knee that was already swollen. He screamed. Shaking and struggling against the metal bindings, he was getting the imprint of chain link onto his flesh. As he kept struggling, he screamed more. Screaming loud and struggling against the bindings. But as he struggle the chair started to crack. And then, James’s world went black.
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Thelma was dressing in her white dress and tennis shoe styled uniform as she walked though the crowded corridor of Brinkford. Seeing all the patients made her feel sick. She hated these people just as much as she hated her sister. Oh her sister, the favorite of the family. She had Down syndrome, and Thelma did not. She was the normal one. Yet, her sister was the favorite. She envied her sister. Working here, and watching the ill get tortured daily, gave her immense satisfaction. This is what her sister should have been in, she always thought to herself. In Thelma’s eyes, this was a place where the rejects of society should be. And her sister was a reject. She walked down the Drash Wing and into the room of Albert. Albert was the only one she could stand… for he was the only one who was paralyzed and couldn’t stop her. She walked in and took a quick glimpse at the still pathetic figure on the bed.
“Still living?” She asked with a sadistic smile.
Turning the lights off, she smiled still, hearing his frightened screams. He was terrified of the night, all of his war flash backs appeared when he was sleeping or whenever the light wasn’t around. His war memories are what caused his to be paralyzed and to be driven mad. Thelma kept laughing as she saw him in distress. Leaving the lights off, she sauntered out of the room, entering the hallway as the scene start to blur.
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Seventy six years later, Catherine was walking down Jefferson Lane. She heard rumors that the old asylum was haunted but wanted to see for herself. Turning at the curve, she came face to face with Brinkford Asylum. Outside, vines covered the brick walls and started entering the broken windows with no screens. Looking more closely, Catherine saw a swing set. She heard that the children of the mentally ill were able to come outside and play, but now the swing set was proof. Looking at the rotted swing set, she was the worn ply-wood seats of swings and holey plastic slide. She took a step towards it, wanting to see the swings in more detail, and being able to say that she touched the rotted swing set of the feared and haunted Brinkford Asylum. But, a dark and heavy feeling came over her. It was sudden too. Falling back a few steps, the feeling went, just as soon as it appeared. Puzzled, Catherine decided to take a few more steps towards the asylum. And again, the dark and heavy feeling came over her. She felt sick, tired, abused and sore. A strong disgusting smell permeated around her. Feeling even sicker from the scent, she staggered back. And again the feelings vanished. Scared and confused, Catherine ran away from Brinkford. A place where more harm was done, rather than good.