I looked at the building I had been to once before. It had never been glorious to me. Faded white concrete with years and years of rainwater showing through. I thought it would have been closed down by now, but it only seemed to be as busy as ever. The roundabout in front of the building was currently filled with a small van and another car, some run down older version of an Oldsmobile. The grass was dying and the trees were dead.

I thought I would have felt something, but I really only looked at it criticizing everything was that was wrong with it. It obviously needed a paint job, and they needed someone to either put fake grass or just replant it. And the trees needed to be removed and replaced. But I supposed that they had minimal funding and couldn't afford to do any of that.

Nevertheless, I knew I had to ask around, see what happened to that young girl with the short black hair. I doubted anyone knew anything about it, seeing as it was almost one hundred years ago. The only people who might remember it would either be elderly and almost clinically insane, or maybe a young girl or boy who was now in their last years.

I opened the door, flinching at how loud the squeak it made was. I looked around to see people staring at me, but I slipped in and let the door close on its own, flinching again as it made a rather loud, echoing noise. I smoothed out the small wrinkles on my shirt and walked to the front desk, where I could practically see the bacteria swimming around. I smiled at the middle-aged man behind the desk, who radiated odors I didn't even want to think about, let alone smell. He smiled back and smoothed his hair back. I wanted to grimace, but stopped the urge.

"Welcome to Saint Mary's Institution of Well-Being, I'm Gerard. Is there any way I can help you?" he asked in a sickly sweet voice. Again I had the urge to grimace, but I pushed that back. Something told me this man had too much fun with the nurses who worked here, and that was thoroughly disgusting. I couldn't help but let a little giggle out at the name, and I quickly wondered if that had always been the name. The small sense of hilarious irony the world held in store for everyone.

"Yes, I'm here to see if I could possibly look through some files for an old family member. I go to the local college and our current assignment is to find information on our ancestors, and I traced one of my own to this… institution," I said in my persuasive voice. His smile disappeared and he tugged at the collar of his mess of a shirt. It had far too many wrinkles for someone who was, one assumed, sitting at a desk all day.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but those files are restricted to employee's only," he explained nervously. I sighed inwardly, knowing I would regret what I was about to do, but knowing I had to do it. I shook my head quickly and slightly, hoping no one noticed, and continued to smile.

"But surely there must be something I can do to see those files. You see, I'm almost done with college, and this is the last thing standing in my way. I'm desperate," I said in what I hoped was a hopeless and pathetic voice. He looked around as if he were being watched.

"I could get fired for this," he said in a whisper, and I nodded, knowing how important his job was to him. "You have to swear to not tell a soul," he continued. I nodded quickly. "And most importantly, you have to tell your professor that you found this somewhere in your attic," he finished quickly. I nodded once more and he stood up. "Follow me," he said.

He led me down the hall with the flickering lights, and I couldn't help but think of some horror movie. He let out an exasperated sigh and held up his hand, telling me to wait a minute. He walked to the end of the hall, the one we had just passed through, and pushed a button. The intercom let out an echoing sound of Gerard's voice.

"Orderly to hall five, orderly to hall five please," he said, and then walked back to me. He openly smiled, and I openly grimaced at his yellow teeth. His smile faltered and I covered it with trying to sneeze. I think it was a fail at attempting to try to sneeze, but he responded by letting his smile return and saying, "Bless you. Anyway, some patient is messing with the lights again, thus the flickering lights," he said. He continued walking and I followed him. For these files having been so important and confidential, they were poorly protected, even more so than the last time I was here.

"They're organized by last name," he said, unlocking the door and then walking back to his desk. I let my face drop immediately and tried to not think of the lingering smell that he left behind. I opened the door and closed it behind me. The room was about as large as the living room at home, and it was filled with filing cabinets, and some were taller than me. Each one was numbered with the year followed by the first letter of the patient's last name.

It didn't take me long to find my own file. Compared to some of the others I had seen it wasn't too big, but it was big enough to write a small novel off of. Before I had only read how I had gotten there and who I was before, but they hadn't had too much information on that part of my past.

The whole point of my being here was to learn what they did that could have possibly made me not remember anything except the blackness that consumed my memory of my human life, and that was what Jasper wanted me to learn. Before he had spoken about how I would be able to move on from my past once I knew what had caused my memory to have been lost. I understood what he meant, but didn't understand how I was to move on from not being able to remember my human life.

First day of Mary's arrival

Patient seems ordinary enough. Parent told us these fits of hers come and go, and can be rare. She has been known to injure herself and others while having had these fits. Isolation is seeming to be the only true course with this case. We'll keep her under constant surveillance, and when we witness one of her fits ourselves we will plan on a more permanent route of action.

Mary had her first fit only hours after arriving. Her violence isn't too harmful, seeing as her body is frail. She has hardly any muscle or fat, and it seems that nature will her body to be so. She told one of the orderlies that she should be more careful when making her rounds, and so we are putting Mary in a more secure room. More to come.

Second day

Susan was attacked by one of our patients last night while doing bed checks. Mary heard of this and told us we should have listened to her. It seems her mother was right about her daughter having been able to see what was to come. We start electrotherapy in two days.

Fourth day

She seemed to know about the therapy, telling us it wouldn't work and that we shouldn't try. We did it nevertheless, but it didn't do any good. Usually we see some immediate results, but with this patient there was nothing. The entire time she did scream, which we were not expecting. No one else before her had made a noise. After that she said she would do everything in her power to get out of this place. Currently in her room with two guards outside.

After that it skipped a few weeks. They all followed the same routine, basically. They said I wasn't responding to the treatments, so they were going to let it have more power. The days started becoming numberless and instead it would only start with indentation. I scanned them all before I found a small note.


A bit monotonous, no? More power, more security. You didn't go out without a fight. I know you are now skimming through these, just seeing the words as words, but now would be the time to start paying attention. With that I leave you alone to your own thoughts.


Of course he had gone through this file already. Why wouldn't he have? Nevertheless I took his advice and started to pay attention to the day which was indented on the current page.

Patient has started to show signs of minor memory loss. The other day she questioned as to how she had gotten here, and we told her a fabricated story. She accepted it easily, and she also continued to ask if she had any family, and why her family didn't want her anymore. We didn't know how to answer that. Instead we continued her treatment.

Screaming during treatment has gotten worse, and she keeps losing her memory. She no longer knows where she is, and forgets immediately after being informed. She's convinced that someone will steal her away from this place. Her fits have only been increasing since the beginning of the treatments. We will continue on the hope of everything gets worse before it gets better.

Having to keep patient in a jacket without ease now. She has more fits now, and has become a larger danger to herself. We stopped the treatments one week ago, and nothing has ceased. It appears the damage has already been done. She says few words now, and they are always the same. "Soon. He will rescue me soon enough." That is all the interns who give her food (which she does not eat) can hear. Her hair has grown back quickly, more so than the others.

Final Entry on Mary Alice Brandon

We tried everything we could think of to help her. Someone did take her, just as she said would happen. We do not know where she could be, but we now pronounce her dead. She was nineteen years old.

That explained why I didn't have a memory, at least. But it didn't explain where his next note could be. And he didn't leave any hints. This was going to be a bit frustrating. I closed the file, putting it in my purse and closing the filing cabinet. I turned to exit the room, but the door was already opening.

Yo. People who read this, review. Seriously. Its disheartening. I'm in dire need of a pick me up right now, and you all know how to do that.