Asylum Box Set

by Sian B. Claven

  I don’t know what to do.

  What have I done?

  10 February 1951

  The last few days have been hell on Earth for me. I cannot believe that I violated a patient for my self-gratification. I cannot even look at Molly anymore, and I avoid the day rooms at all costs. I don’t check on her in the mornings. The orderlies whisper whenever I am not around and I feel there is a chance that they may have seen what happened and are just too scared to report it because I’m their direct boss. What they may do is report me to my boss when he does an inspection.

  That is what they are going to do. They want me out. They don’t want my system, or my order. They hate my treatments because if we cure patients they will all be out of a job. It’s a conspiracy. They set up Molly, they drugged me to make me see Clara, and I can only imagine what else they have given me. I need to deal with them, but first I need to deal with Molly. If she can’t testify about what I did I won’t have to worry if the orderlies report me.

  This morning I scheduled Molly’s Electro Shock Therapy. With just the right voltage I can ensure she won’t recall anything. This makes me feel sick, but this was all a ploy to get rid of me and I have to fight fire with fire.

  I will deal with the orderlies another way. I can ensure they are taken care of and reallocated to other facilities, or fired. I just need to have enough on them. Then I can employ loyal staff who will understand what I am about.

  15 February 1951

  Molly’s procedure is complete. I did it this morning and she won’t be talking about anything that was done to her. One orderly questioned why she needed the procedure, but I dismissed him. He wasn’t a doctor and had no room to argue with me.

  Once the procedure was complete, I asked him to take Molly back to her room. I didn’t have a lot of time, so I quickly went to the store room and obtained a bottle of Morphine. I hastened to his room and hid it in a fairly obscure place, somewhere I didn’t think he would notice it, but somewhere it can be found.

  I then went back to my laboratory to work quietly. Adrenaline rushed through my body at the prospect of him finding the bottle of morphine before I was able to call for a spot inspection due to it being missing. I was concentrating so hard that when the tray of instruments clattered to the floor it felt as if my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. I looked around, but there was no one else around.

  As I retrieved the instruments I thought I smelled cooked pork. It assaulted my senses quite suddenly and overwhelmed me. It was so strong that I could taste it on my tongue. I stood up and put the tray back in its place, only to come face to face with the half-burnt corpse of Wellbottom. I stepped back, bile rising up in my throat as I realised he was the pork smell.

  I closed my eyes and opened them, but he was still standing there. His mouth opened wide as he stared at me, pointing his finger. He blamed me, but I didn’t have to feel guilty, because he had been evil.

  As he slowly walked towards me, I could only assume this was perhaps a delayed effect of the narcotics someone had fed me, but it seemed so real, the smell was so real.

  I turned and left, storming through the front door and outside, standing there gasping for fresh air. I felt I couldn’t get enough air, as though I had forgotten what it was like. After a few minutes I felt better and went back inside.

  As I did, an orderly was pushing Molly and I met her eyes. That split second felt like an eternity in which I was absolutely certain, if she had the ability to speak, she would say that she knew everything and would tell everyone. A giant hole had opened inside of me and everything just dropped through.

  The orderly also stared at me suspiciously and it snapped me back into action. Remembering the plan, I quickly composed myself and told him to ensure that all the orderlies joined me in the main day room after the patients were put down for their afternoon naps.

  I waited for them and then ordered a spot inspection of all rooms, including my own because I wanted to lead by example. Once they were done with my room, I made sure to first inspect the nurses’ room before finally going to Travis’, the problematic orderly.

  They searched around for a bit and found the bottle of morphine soon enough. Despite his denials and accusations of being set up, the others were not dissuaded that he was in fact abusing morphine, or worse, selling it to people in the town.

  I had to deal with it swiftly and advised Travis to pack up his belongings. If he wanted to receive his final month’s payment he needed to resign instead of me firing him. It was the least I could do; those were the words I chose. I then addressed the balance of the staff and assured them that if I discovered anyone abusing substances, stealing, mistreating patients or not fulfilling their work commitments they would join Travis.

  I have come back to my rooms where I can at least relax for a while. Travis is sorted. Molly is sorted. I am sorted.

  01 March 1951

  Someone is drugging me. I don’t know if it is in my food or my drink, or perhaps some other form, but they are getting substances into me. My plan is to go into town and buy my own food and drink so that I know it cannot be touched. If I am getting it in another way, I will only know if I rule out food and drink first.

  This may sound as if I am going completely crazy, but I keep on hallucinating about Wellbottom, about Clara, about Mary Sue-Ellen. The other night I woke up and I was surrounded by so many dead people; in fact, by all who had died in the facility. Sitting on my hips was Clara, blood pouring from her neck from where she was stabbed by her mother. Standing at the foot of my bed were her parents, her mother with a faint noose around her neck. Mr Marx pulled Clara to him and kissed her neck and groped her breasts. I couldn’t move as I heard her call out ‘daddy’ and tipped her head back in excitement.

  I tried everything to scream, to get up, to just lift my arms, but nothing inside of me seemed connected anymore. My head was going to explode, so I shut my eyes. When I opened them, the hallucinations were gone and I was alone in my bed, drenched in my own sweat.

  I know what I have to do. These orderlies cannot get away with what they are doing. They want the facility to themselves for their own dark purposes. I have to get rid of them. I am sure Travis is instructing them from outside the grounds. It has to be him. It is his bitter evil soul driving them to do these things.

  If I am unsuccessful, if I am stopped and removed, my patients will be at their mercy and I can’t let that happen either. First I will help the patients, and then I will deal with the devils that plague them.

  15 March 1951

  This is my last entry. I am being driven mad by the evil in this world and I realise now that there is no cure. It is embedded in the very walls of this place. There is nothing more I can do but bring it burning down.

  I want this to survive, to be my final record, so that others will understand why I did it and will have access to my information to continue my good work.

  Please know that the patients didn’t suffer. Starting with Eric in the early hours of this morning, I gave each patient a lethal dose of morphine so that they expired in their sleep without a worry. Not one woke and not one suffered.

  I see Wellbottom and Clara everywhere; they follow me around the facility calling out to me. I see other patients, including ones I assisted this morning, walking the halls and staring at me blankly, and I finally understand how evil this place is.

  Because it is the most secure, I called the orderlies to the bottom day room. They work for the devil, I am sure of this. He has sent his demons here to torture the innocent and they must not be allowed to persist. Once all were in the room, I locked it down using our riot protocol. They panicked because they realised what was coming - they were being sent straight back to the hell they crawled out of.

  I poured gasoline under the door and along the walls. Their screams as they smelt the fumes were as music to my ears. I set the gasoline alight and came down here.

  I can smell burnt flesh again.

  I can smell the bui
lding burn around me.

  I am placing this, my thoughts and emotions, in a strong box under my bed. If you find this, please know that I did this for everyone, past, present and future.

  Chapter Nine

  KAREN

  26 June 1970

  I am so excited. I can’t believe I graduated top of my class at nursing school and get to work at one of the top facilities in the country. Bulstan Asylum is so amazing! Although the fire that burned it to the ground in the 1950s was extremely tragic, it did result in them rebuilding a fully modernised facility.

  When I applied for a position I didn’t think I would get in. The current head of the facility, Dr Wetson, told me in the interview that they were being extremely selective of the staff for the Aslyum, because they want to make it the top mental institution in the country.

  When I got the phone call last month to confirm, upon my graduation, I had a secured spot at Bulstan, I couldn’t believe it. All my school friends were surprised at my excitement, because they feel it’s too dangerous to work with the mentally ill, but they don’t know that part of me. They don’t understand what it was like to grow up with a mentally ill sister who didn’t get the correct care and eventually took her own life, in the room you shared with her, and you had to wake up to her body hanging from a large rope tied to the wooden beams in the ceiling.

  Sorry, I’m just so all over the place. I’m sitting on the bus right now and luckily it’s a pretty smooth ride, so I am able to write. I just want to give myself something to do, so I don’t start over-thinking it all and doubting myself.

  They sent me a welcome pack two weeks ago that clearly outlined what my job description is, what I am expected to do and when, that I need to be a live-in nurse at the asylum and, most importantly, the safety procedures for dealing with extremely dangerous and violent patients.

  I studied it until it is so ingrained in my head that I see it whenever I close my eyes. I am ready for this, but then again, I also am not. It’s one thing to study the theory and know the rules, but it’s a completely different thing to actually be in the middle of it, doing it and managing it. I think that’s why my mom bought me this diary; I can keep my thoughts straight by laying them out on paper. Who knows, if I manage to keep a diary, I can one day write a book about my years at the asylum.

  I doubt I’ll have enough free time to write every day, but I will try as often as I can, and capture all my experiences.

  We’re almost there, so I’m going to sign off for now and will report back about my first day as soon as I can.

  30 June 1970

  What a first week!

  This is the first opportunity I have had to report back about what has happened this week. I have been so exhausted, I just didn’t have the energy to record anything.

  I guess I should break it down day by day quickly, so I don’t get confused.

  Friday 26/06

  When I arrived Dr Wetson was there to greet me, along with the four orderlies and two nurses that caught the bus with me. I hadn’t realised we were all going to work together or I would have tried to make friends with them. Anyway, he took us on a tour of the facility and it is absolutely amazing. It was built on the same foundations of the old Asylum, so it is essentially the same structure, but stronger, bigger and more modern.

  Dr Wetson also explained to us how everything works, where all the supplies are stored and then brought us our access and security cards so that security can identify us as staff.

  Saturday 27/06

  My room is really cold and I hardly slept. Also, I was really stressed about my first day. I felt I was not going to remember where everything is and either I’m going to get completely lost all the time, or something will happen to a patient because I messed up.

  I joined my colleagues for breakfast and sat next to another nurse called Elsa. After introducing myself, we spent a few minutes getting to know each other and she seems really nice. She says that being a nurse for the mentally ill is her calling. I can totally relate and feel she and I are going to be best friends while we work here.

  With the ice between us broken, we spent the rest of breakfast avidly chatting away about how excited we were to assist the patients, and the doctors that treated them. Elsa commented that she felt there was no greater feeling than helping someone to get well, and I have to say I agree.

  The rest of the day, besides our lunch and dinner meals, was spent going over work schedules and our stations. We were taken through each part of the building and told what was and wasn’t allowed. Dr Wetson confirmed that if we are unsure, to consult a doctor before doing anything.

  We also met the doctors. There are four in total, excluding Dr Wetson who, although qualified, has taken an administrative role at the Asylum.

  There are currently no patients in the facility, which was surprising because I thought it was already up and running. The only people in the building are the employees, some of which arrived a few weeks ago to start their training and others that came in dribs and drabs after that, including us.

  The patients, we were informed, will be arriving from Monday.

  Sunday 28/06

  Today we went over the types of patients due on Monday and how to treat them. Because we will rotate stations, we had to know each day room and patient housing block, to be aware of where to be more than careful and where the self-checked-in patients are housed.

  Self-checked-in patients are classified as the most harmless and will be in Block A. Sometimes they are recovering addicts, but mostly it’s rich confused people who need a break from reality and use the facility as a respite. They get excellent meals, better than the other patients from what I can tell, and they have better rooms and more home comforts.

  Dr Wetson explained the reason we tolerate this is because they pay exorbitant fees and that money is used to treat patients committed for more serious conditions.

  There are barely furnished isolated cells in Block B. These are designated to suicidal and self-harming cases. The walls have light padding on them and the beds are bolted down. Also, they are temperature controlled so that patients don’t require bedding, in case they try to hang themselves.

  Block C is dedicated to the more elderly than mental. Unfortunately, with most people, as I learnt at school, the older you get the more prone you are to issues like dementia. As a result we have a unit specifically for the elderly. It’s cute and colourful. The rooms are simple but homey, and the day room in this block has lots of games and activities.

  Block D is for medium threat patients, those with the potential to be dangerous, but mostly safe with the correct treatment. There’s an extremely secure day room and we can lock patients in if things get out of hand, so that security can reach us without patients ‘escaping’. Their rooms are furnished simply and nicely and they are allowed simple pleasures if visited, but no sharp objects.

  Block E is a scary place. This is where the more dangerous patients are kept, like the criminally insane. According to Dr Wetson, they will be sedated during their allocated time in the day room, but otherwise are to be locked in their rooms. There is a lot of security, and extra orderlies to help us take care of the patients. Their rooms are barely furnished and their beds have restraints, which we need to fasten every night. I wanted to ask why Dr Wetson thought we had to restrain them, but the answer scared me.

  I won’t lie, after our training today I am a little afraid of the patients I may come into contact with. Elsa shares my fear, but was quick to remind me over dinner that these patients, although frightening, are incapable of controlling their actions. They are unstable and we are here to make their lives as pleasant as possible.

  Monday 29/06

  We were up early and had breakfast long before sun rays peeked through the windows of our new home. We all have to be up early if we are the day shift staff. The first batch of patients was arriving and we had to prepare to meet and escort them and their security detail, if necessary, to their rooms and get them
settled.

  I was worried I would have to deal with Block E on my first day, but it transpired that we were simply going to take turns receiving patients and there was a strong chance I would not have to deal with Block E patients at all.

  It felt very exciting and nerve-racking as I escorted two Block A patients to their rooms, then one Block C patient, followed by another Block A and lastly a Block B.

  The Block B patient’s name is John Swimmer and he is being admitted by his mother for trying to slit his wrists. I saw the bandages on his arm when I walked up to meet him. I was horrified to see that he was escorted by a police officer and was handcuffed. I thought perhaps he was a Block E and the blood drained from my body, but it turned out he was handcuffed to prevent him from ripping out his stitches.

  Dr Wetson instructed me to take the patient to Block B and to allow the police officer to stand guard while I restrained John to his bed. I agreed and once in his room the officer took John’s handcuffs off and I was able to secure first his arms and then his feet.

  He stared at me while I worked and I tried to not let it bother me, but his eyes are this amazing shade of bright green and they haunt me even now. He didn’t say anything, not even when I asked if I could get him anything, and eventually I left with the officer, thanking him as we parted ways.

  Tuesday 30/06

  That brings us to today. My hand is already cramping from everything I have jotted down, but I need to remember it all so that I can write my book one day. Maybe this is how I will do it. Spend my Tuesday afternoon, which is my afternoon off, recording what happened in the previous week. That way I don’t have to worry about doing it every day and I can stay focused on work.