The Attic

Chapter Sixteen

"THE ATTIC? Really, River? That is where the whole thing started!!" Gianna yelled aloud. Victoria was standing off in the corner, shaking her head. I could see the anger build up inside of her. She wanted to yell at me, I knew it.

"Listen, yeah I know that's where it all started but I would rather be there than in the room right next to them! They could probably hear you and they might even see us walking out of the room. We can't risk that every time we have to go out. We can't just hide out in this room forever. " I said in a hushed, calm voice.

Gianna and Victoria both agreed, even though they weren't happy about it. So..off to the attic we went. I knew all of us wouldn't be able to stand in an elevator for a couple of floors and manage to be quiet about the situation, so we took the stairs. Up and up and up, floor after floor until we finally reached a long hallway with a door at the end. This was our stop.

I was the first one to step out of the doorway and move forward, probably because I was the most curious about what was behind that door. I muddled down the hallway, Gianna then Victoria then Dylan tiptoeing behind me. I leaned in, took hold of the handle, and turned it very slowly, it squeaking the whole time.

I pushed the door open, and all I saw was darkness. There was a large, cracked window in the center of things, with small desks and cots standing up against the walls. The walls were part metal and the other part rotting wood. If you turned to the left, there was a set of kitchen doors that would swing back and forth on the hinges with any little bit of movement. To say the least, it was creepy as fuck, especially knowing that those two guys were down stairs. I can't believe that they say this place is still in service...

Being in this place makes me reconsider my life, what happened to it and where it's going. first that thing happened to my sister, then my parents, then Dylan and his friends. I don't understand why it's happening to me, but the only thing there is to do is just roll with the punches and handle what life gives to me. 

I was interrupted from mthoughts when I turned to see Dylan and Gianna pulling down the cots that were leaning up against the wall.  The both tipped it back and let it go, causing a loud bang and dust to fly up off of the surface.  "You couldn't have done that any quieter??" I whisper screamed.

"It's not like anyone's gonna hear us up here. C'mon River, chill out." Victoria stated casually, throwing her coat on the cot.  My eyes shot to her, then looked away. Gianna and Dylan began to take off their shoes and pull down more cots, but all i could do was wonder about what was on the other side of those doors. 

I trailed away, inching closer and closer to the doors, reaching my fingers out to give it a little push. The hinges squeaked, the doors grinded together, not wanting to budge open with ease. I got closer, pushed on them harder, revealing what was on the other side. 

With minimal lighting, I couldn't see much, but I made out old wheelchairs and gurneys scattered all over the place. Rooms lined the hallway, some with busted locks and broken chains. Papers and pens were sprewn everywhere as well. This looked like it was more than a normal attic of a hotel. 

I crept through the doors, attempting to stay unnoticed. Cold air rushed onto my face, sending a shiver down my spine. I continued down the hallway to find a folder with papers peaking out of the sides. The folder had a huge, red "classified" stamp on the top, but I opened it anyways. The first paper was headed with "North Crimson Mental Institution".  It was a detailed letter on  the patient's stability. It read:

Caroline Mallory. What a sweet girl. She started out quiet, kept to herself and didn't say much to the nurses. Caroline was admitted  to North Crimson due to post traumatic stress disorder. Early in her childhood, her parents locked her in her room and gave her seven lashes each time she spoke back to them or if they were in a bad mood. Eventually she was removed from her parents and put into foster care, then later adopted by a sweet, loving family with two other children. The parents were nice, yes, but the two siblings, Rachel and Mary, were not. They would poke fun at her for the scars she had on her back and her timidness. Over several years, this "teasing" made Caroline so angry that she eventually lashed out on the two, killing one and putting the other into a severe coma. On that day, Caroline entered her new home here and will stay here until she recovers from what she had witnessed in the past. 

CAUTION: Do not walk past her room very loudly, try to prevent any type of banging or loud noise when around her, and do not say the word "seven". 

I looked through the rest of the folder, finding pictures and medical records and finally one last paper on the bottom: her death certificate. It appears that she died at the age of 17 in this hospital from undernourishment. 

I got up slowly, papers still in hand, and proceeded to walk down the hall again in the direction of the bulky doors.

  This one's gonna be hard to explain. 

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