Sunday, May 13, 2012

The Next Riddle

A sticky note with a riddle was left on Grace's door this morning. I woke up (not sure how I fell asleep to begin with in that fucked up place..) to find patient files dumped in my lap and a very grumpy looking Mr. Bun glaring at me. Fuck, those stitches are creepy..

The riddle:

Wzzv ez esp mprtyytyr, mlnv ty esp oljd hspy Rclnp hld hszwp lyo Vlcpy hld detww ty stotyr. Espcp, jzf htww qtyo jzfc dtxawp ctoowp. Dzwgp ez xlvp esp Zcopcwj awlj zynp xzcp. Tryzcp zfc xpddlrp, lyo xzcp htww otp.

Patient 1: Ruby Walsh

Condition: Trichophagia

History: Ms. Walsh started eating her own hair when she was in her early teens. It became something of an obsession with her, culminating in an operation where a trichobezoar had to be removed from her stomach. As a consequence, Ms. Walsh insists that that her head be shaved every month.

Patient 2: Lee Smith

Condition: Paranoia and hypochondriasis.

History: Mr. Smith was admitted to the hospital in 2003 for a herniated disk. During his stay in the hospital, he became increasingly paranoid that he was being observed and that the doctors were administering various diseases to him. Subsequently, he was deemed mentally unfit and transferred to the psychiatric department and subsequently to Shady Lawn.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

No, I'm Not Dead

Grace isn't doing so well..

They've shipped off half of the fuckin' inmates here. Every other cell is just empty, rotting from the inside out with claw marks up and down the sides. Some blood's splashed around theatrically, but I'm not sure what's blood and what's paint. Why would there be paint? Because the bastards, the Misfits, have been fuckin' around with us in their off time and throwing the paint around to make us think there are victims nearby. If someone's wounded, we're supposed to at least try to help them. These days, though..

We don't go past a hallway or two on our own without going in doubles, never coming or going without a group when we leave to go home. Matty's tires were slashed a few days ago. When he bent over to look at the damage, he got a switchblade between the ribs. Someone thought that was REALLY funny. Since then, well, we're a bit more careful. More jaded. None of us dare to stay home after what happened to my apartment.

I'm rambling again. Fuck, I've been afraid to post, afraid to even look at this blog. I just sit on my rusty little folding chair outside of Grace's room, checking on her on the hour, looking around nervously. Hoping I won't get singled out again. So long as I'm her "Guardian", I've been able to avoid getting hurt. The drawback, though, is that I haven't been able to save anyone. No riddles left for me means, well, I don't know.

I'll figure it out. I think they're fucking with us now..

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Uh, guys? A little help here..

I found Grace last night, slumped over on her bed and unconscious. She was bleeding from the mouth, the blood was everywhere. There shouldn't have been anything in the room for her to harm herself. I.. I panicked. I started screaming, calling for help and the doctors on staff to come look at her. I grabbed a blanket off the chair by her bed, wrapped her up and held her while we waited for somebody to hear us. I know I wasn't supposed to, I know I probably messed up a "crime scene" or some shit. I didn't care.  Dammit, she was shaking and she looked sick to boot. When I looked closer, I figured out where all the blood was coming through. Her bottom lip was bitten through, though I have no clue if it was deliberate or not. She looked so miserable. I just had to hold her. I'll probably get some kind of a meeting with Dr. Beakman later over it.

She's.. okay now. She's in a room a little farther away from the others for now, and I've (so far) been assigned to look after her until we know more about what's going on. I'll still have my rounds, but it's been strongly suggested that if I want to "protect" her so badly, then I need to try a little harder to do so.

Teofilo's door has a giant blue P on it. As with all the other times, no one will talk about it.


There was a riddle waiting for me when I got home from all this insanity, with another two patient files beneath it. I suppose this is serious time. 


Patient 1: William Hogarth

Condition: Suffers from intense paranoia and delusions

History: Once worked in criminal justice. Following a string of gruesome murders, he was arrested by the police. Hogarth maintained that he did not kill anyone, and that a whispering monster had done it. Because of his belief, he was institutionalized. After about a month, he was transported from England to the United States, and placed under Dr. Beakman's care in Shady Lawn Sanitarium. He has begun to slowly recover from his condition.

Patient 2: Jasper Oakley

Condition: Comatose. Repeats words that people say and responds to stimuli via attempted mimicry.

History: Father of two children. His wife died in a car accident last year. Reportedly, he became an alcoholic soon afterward. Entered into his comatose condition around the beginning of the year, after he was found unconscious in a lake, where it is believed be tried to drown himself.