Shards of Red Glass (A Ghost Adventures Story)

Two Apologies

The days pass, nothing eventful happening. By my count, I had been with Ghost Adventures for about eight months when the investigation I'll never forget happens.

We're investigating an old sanatorium in Idaho, which is named Whilehead Sanatorium. It just went out of business two years ago, so it isn't very unclean or dusty.

I actually listen to the interviews this time, since this place sounds a lot like the investigation back at Sarcoxie. Demons, little girls sightings, dark shadows following people home, satanic rituals. And some other stuff that happened when it was still in use.

"Right here in this room, a man killed a nurse, who happened to be his lover, once he found out she was pregnant with his child," the current interviewee, a nurse named Micah, says, gesturing around the room. "Sounds a lot like Lilly," I mutter, but no one hears me.

"And over here, a woman shot herself. She said that she would continue to haunt this place after her death, but we have no records of her haunting here. Her name was Margaret," Micah says, and I'm reminded of my own mother, Mica, who was a very literal person who needed hard evidence before she believed anything.

"Now, over in the children's ward, since there were cases of deranged children, a murder happened. The only child murder ever documented around here," Micah says as she leads us towards two pink and blue doors at the end of the hallway.

Zak asks, his voice full of curiosity,"What condition did the child have?" Micah answers, her voice full of sadness,"Schizophrenia. They didn't know how to treat it, so it got worse. She started to hurt the other children, believing that they were demons, until she finally snapped. She was the only schizophrenic child ever documented to have been here, so she was teased mercilessly. Stories say that she got angry, and took a plastic knife from her dinner plate and plunged it into another child's eye. He bled out."

We enter the children's ward, and I'm taken aback by the utterly white walls of the place. "Did they restrict drawing?" I ask, and Micah turns to me. "Yes. They believed back then that drawing when one was mentally ill was inviting the Devil into their hearts. When a child did draw, they never drew breath again, because they were beaten so terribly by the owner," she answers. I blink away tears, and continue walking, avoiding looking at the pristine white walls that probably had been washed clean of blood.

We enter one of the rooms, which had served as a bedroom. The remains of mattresses lined the walls and floor, looking like gutted sheep carcasses. Micah walks into the center of the room, and gestures towards the wall. We all turn, and I'm confronted with the goat-faced image of Satan.

"Satanic rituals happened in this room. Even during the time of this building's use. Some of the children believed that contact with the Dark Prince would help clear their minds. Others just wanted to wreck havoc among their prison." "Children did this? Kids preformed satanic rituals?" Zak asks, sounding every bit amazed as the rest of us are feeling. Micah nods sadly, then I catch sight of something out of the corner of my eye.

A little boy, barely six. As I look at his blue-white spirit, I see traces of black shoot through his body. His left eye is missing, and I remember the story of the girl killing a boy by stabbing him in the eye. And, even though this boy isn't missing half of his right arm or has a scarred, burned face, he reminds me terribly of Mikey, the boy ghost from my old apartment back in Missouri.

He looks at me with his single eye, which is a light blue. He points to the goat-face, and says,"Touch. Box." I turn to Zak, who watches me, as if knowing exactly what I'm seeing and hearing. "Aaron, hand me the spirit box. I want to try something," Zak says, holding his hand out to Aaron. Aaron digs into one of his pockets, and pulls out the little speaker and recorder.

Zak takes the speaker, and places it right on the face. He turns it on, and asks,"Who killed that boy by stabbing him in the eye?" Immediately, a little boy's voice says,"Sophie." I look around for the one-eyed boy, but he seems to have disappeared. "Is Sophie here with us?" Zak asks, looking around at me. I shake my head, conveying that I don't see any spirits.

Zak opens his mouth to ask another question, but then a woman's voice faintly says,"Murderer. In our midst." Aaron looks around and asks,"Did that just say murderer? And something about mist?" "I think it said 'murderer in our midst'," Billy says, and we all nod. "Who is the murderer you are referring to?" Zak asks. For several seconds, no sound comes through the spirit box except for the white static, but then a man's voice says,"Woman."

A chill runs down my spine, and I shiver, because I recognize that voice. I look around, and catch his gray eyes watching me as he disappears into smoke. Anger alights through me. This bastard is just aching to be banished to Hell. I'm not sure if my power can do that, but I'm willing to try.

Zak takes the spirits box off of the face, and asks more questions, none of which are answered. He puts it back on the face, but again none of his inquiries are answered. Zak shuts off the device, and hands it back to Aaron.

"Micah, did any women commit murder in this building?" he asks as he turns to our interviewee, who shakes her head after being completely silent. "No, not that I know of. It could've been referring to the girl. Ghosts can get confused, I bet," she says, looking at Zak. I see Zak tense his shoulders, and his arms cross, hiding his tic where he rubs one hand on the opposite arm. I can practically hear his thoughts go right to me, though I must be imagining it.

"Thank you for your time, Micah. We hope to see you again soon," Zak says, and Micah smiles as she leaves. We all mill about the children's ward, waiting on our next interviewee to show up. I just stand and stare at the picture of the goat face of Satan, thinking back to my dream of him all those many weeks ago.

I try to imagine Lucifer with a goat's face, but I can't do it. His actual face is too handsome, too human, except for the goat horns spiraling out from his forehead and his ever-changing-colored eyes. I sense Zak walk up behind me, but don't turn from my silent vigil. "The spirit was talking about you. We both know that. Who was it?" Zak whispers into my ear.

Just as quiet, I whisper back,"Chase. Chase is here, just like Sam, Justin, and Ashly were at the jail. Just hope Chase doesn't have a knife to torture me with like those three did." I shudder at the memory of the first three people I killed slicing my arms with serrated blades, aligning the knives with my scars from past attempts.

Zak nods, and I sense his mind whirling with something to say. "Just say it, Zak," I mutter, and Zak says immediately,"You're not allowed to go off on your own. Not here. Not with him in this building as well. Not after what happened last time you were alone with spirits from your past." I nod, and hold up my pinky finger. I sense Zak give me a weird look, so I say,"Humor me, Zachary." I sense him smile as he entwines his pinky finger with mine, and we shake.

And, of course, another person from my past just has to show up as we're loading the van at the end of the day.

"Saira. Only two apologies are needed. Just two." I turn at the sound of my dead friend's voice, and see him standing behind me, arms crossed across his chest in a mimic of Zak. "Apologies? Like what?" I ask, but Forest simply shakes his head. "Only two apologies. That's all that's needed to be free," he says, and I snap,"Free for who? Me or you two?" Forest gazes at me with sad eyes, then fades into smoke.

"Bloody helpful, jackass," I mutter as I climb into the back of the van. The others pile in, and we head back to the hotel. I don't think about Forest's assurance, or Chase's accusation, or about the one-eyed boy as I fall asleep next to Zak that night. No. For once, I sleep without a fucking care in the world for what the future brings tomorrow.

Which makes what happens at the investigation the next night all the more memorable.