Blank corridors. Sterile spaces in which the thoughts of the living existed timelessly with those of the dead. It was no secret that the walls of St. Thompson's were homed to the sick and unruly minds of dozens and dozens that where deemed tainted. That was the way of things. They existed to serve and protect the innocent, sickened beings that lingered in their enclosures seeking refuge, aid; a cure to their illnesses.
Nestled in the spacious woodland just a stone's throw from one of the rivers leading from town, St. Thompson's was said to be a shining beacon of hope. Of healing and rebirth for those deemed too unsafe to wander alone or manage in daily life.
Flashy advertisements in the newspapers promised only the best standard of care, a well staffed home that allowed freedom to play, grow, learn and recover all the while ensuring that no patient ever be at risk again.
Round and round those pamphlets circulated. Each time adding another layer to the bricks and mortar of their promises. State of the art medication, new-age treatments; patients happy enough to show they were 'cured' and allowed to slink back to daily life without anyone thinking twice.
At least, on the surface that's what it was. High ceilings painted white. Walls covered time and again in layer after layer of so-called 'soothing' tones to ease the visitors to the shit show. But, below? Well, that was a different matter altogether.
Philip was only six years old when he first glimpsed inside the walls of that place. Six years old and as innocent as a newborn for all the good it did him. To the world he was seen as just another 'sick' young man who never spoke, never made eye-contact or did things in the 'normal' way.
His mother, Abigail had tried everything to get him to be 'proper', too. She had tried teaching him to speak, to interact with others, even sent him to school like a normal little boy in hopes that it would 'fix' him and been promptly informed her son was 'causing trouble'.
After his fourth school outburst however, his father, Marcus, had long since given up on the boy.
Marcus never liked him, though. Not from the moment Philip was born. Since then, Marcus had simply chosen to ignore him and lavish affection on his two older siblings, Tanya and Michael. Several times over, when Philip would be at the park with his siblings, Marcus would treat the two elders to luscious ice cream treats piled high on cones or snacks while Philip watched on. Always making the point to remind him "only proper children get treats."
It wasn't like Philip didn't try to be normal, either. He would sit quietly in the corner of their small house, playing with hand-me-down toys. Or try to wash the dishes, take in the mail; things that he saw on the bright, shiny noise box that made people happy. But none of it worked.
One day at the park, Philip wandered off and saw a colourful sign posted on a tree for a discount day being held at the national Zoo. He'd never seen anything like that. So many animals like on the shiny box, all so close. He liked those. Animals. Big and small, in so many different colours. Yes, Philip liked those indeed. "Philip, there you are!" Came his mother's voice after a while. "Come on now darling, time to g-Hmm? What did you find now?" Abigail had wandered over in search of him, and paused. Her eye raising from her son, to the sign and back. "How about that, hmm? Right on your birthday. Maybe we'll see if we can go."
Marcus refused point blank that night, too. But, Philip couldn't sleep. He sat in the hallway by the stairs with his stuffed bear, picturing the pretty sign and the bright box as his parents argued. They always argued about him."Do you really fucking think I'm going to waste my money towing that braindead sack of skin around a zoo? He'd be better off being thrown in."
The next week was his birthday, and Abigail took him, Tanya and Michael to the zoo with his little red wagon without so much as a word from Marcus the whole morning. Back and forth they walked, past vast cages and large enclosures where people stood talking about the animals inside. For once, Philip seemed happy, too. He smiled and rocked on his heels in joy at what lay around him. But after a while as it began to turn evening, the sounds and even the smells made him wander away from the small group, following the darkened pathway to the other side of one enclosure with his wagon in tow. There, everything went silent.
