Flytrap | WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST

12 | Moss

Rising out of the rolling fog and through the low-lying clouds stood the ancient fortress known as Arkham Asylum. Though its name had recently been changed to Arkham Psychiatric Hospital to reflect the times, this place was forever stuck in an era long since passed. With its sharp spires jutting out behind the main structure, and soaring towers, it was fit more for a family living in Victorian England than patients residing in a modern-day mental hospital.

If there was ever a building that captured the doom and gloom of the city, it was this one. Against a backdrop of looming storm clouds and a forest of dead trees, Arkham screamed the definition of the word sinister. All it needed were some flashes of lightning strikes and a couple of wolves howling in the distance, and it would be complete.

Goosebumps crept across her skin at the sight of the approaching building. This was really happening. She was really being taken to Arkham. The whole ride over, a part of Barbara believed her dad wouldn't actually do it. At some point, she thought he would turn around and they would return home. Worst-case scenario, he would veer off into the side of the road and give her a stern lecture before driving back home. Always home, no matter what the scenario.

But when she caught the first glimpse of the towering structure atop the hill, she realized they weren't going home.

Neither of them had spoken to each other since getting into the car. What was there to say that hadn't been said already? She had begged and pleaded until her voice had grown hoarse, cried, and screamed until her eyes were red and swollen. If her dad hadn't listened to her then, he wouldn't listen to her now. Not when they had come all this way.

As they drove up the winding road that led to the hospital, Barbara almost expected the sound of a pipe organ to greet them as they passed through the weathered gate. Glancing up at the jagged sign above, she wondered how many people had once seen the words "Arkham Asylum" carved into it, not knowing what horrors awaited them on the other side.

Watching the dead trees pass to the side of her, Barbara swore they were reaching out to her like the long, withered fingers of an old hag. She blinked, and the illusion was gone. They were just normal trees, swaying in the wind.

With an involuntary shudder, Barbara glanced at her reflection in the side mirror and choked back a gasp. That couldn't be her. No, it had to be some trick of the light. She didn't have bruised lips from chewing on them through the entire drive. Nor was her hair disheveled and her glasses askew from the earlier struggle. And where did those tear-streaked cheeks under her puffy eyes come from? No, this wasn't her.

Not wanting to see the thing that stared back at her a second longer, Barbara turned her attention towards the beams of light cast above the towers. They flickered from side-to-side as if they were searching for something behind the swirling clouds and darkening sky. Or perhaps they were warding something off. Either way, if these spotlights were meant to make someone feel safe and secure, they did the complete opposite for Barbara. Just what kind of place were they running here? A prison?

Before she knew it, the car slowed to a halt as it curved around the entrance. For a moment, James hesitated before switching off the ignition. With a low grunt, he yanked out the keys and opened the door with so much force, it nearly flew off its hinges.

From the side of her, the door swung open, and a pair of the largest and meanest men Barbara had ever seen glared down at her. Where they had come from, she had no idea. Only that they weren't there a few seconds ago. Dressed all in white and standing at least six feet tall, she figured they would be pretty hard to miss.

As if on autopilot, one of the men unfastened her seatbelt while the other silently unfolded her wheelchair. Barbara cringed as the man put his beefy hands on her, imagining him snapping her broken spine like a toothpick. But to her surprise, he was gentle. Not as gentle as Richard-or as aromatic-but at least her spine wasn't any more damaged than it already was.