Echos of Midnight Secrets

Youth Center Asylum Memories

I step back as if the paper were on fire. The realization is sinking in. This place that had such happy memories for us, was a mental asylum. Those places aren't known for being kind back in the day.

I start having snippets of the past. I remember talking with Sarah and the guys about struggling with my mental health.

My God we had no idea. None of us.

We had been patients here. Our minds must have wanted to protect us from that and that's why we didn't remember it.

What if that creepy man who had been screwing with us earlier was a caretaker for the place?

My stomach turns as I ponder the implications of this. Had he been watching us this whole time?

I'm now determined that I won't go out like this. I decide to keep moving and exploring. I need answers and this is the place to get them.

I must know what happened to us back then.

I start making my way back down the hall trying to shake off the fear and the heavy feeling I have picked up in the air. This place feels even darker than it did before.

As I pass each office, I can't help but imagine what could have taken place behind these office doors. I feel like I'm being watched. These halls used to be full of happy teenagers and now I just feel dread.

I enter what appears to be the main office. There are a lot of scattered papers in here. It smells damp and musty.

The desk is old and looks like someone or something dug claws or knives in the wood, and they looked desperate.

I noticed a nameplate that was once on the desk on the floor. It's partially covered by the many papers lying everywhere.

I pick it up and dust it off. " I read the name on it, "Dr. Richard Hawthorne", I whisper to myself.

I feel like I recognize the name and there goes my heart again. I hope my friends are faring well as I start pilfering through the many piles of paper for more clues about Dr. Hawthorne.

I'm doing decent in my search, but my hands start shaking as I am piecing together some fragments of information.

During my digging, I unearth a photo of four teenagers. I recognize Sarah, myself, and the guys. And I feel my dinner rise my throat.

We were standing in front of the building. The sign to the side of us, with the name of the asylum. Which means we were patients here.

And Dr. Hawthorne was our not-so-nice doctor. His signature covers medical reports and treatment plans.

Not only was he using electric shock therapy on all the patients even those who didn't need it. He also tested out experimental drugs on us. There are other things too I don't want to think about.

It's so sick and I can't believe I repressed it the way I have. The more I dig the more questions I start to have.

How did we wind up her? What led to our being hospitalized? And then I remember.

I remember talking to Sarah one night. We lay under the stars the sky feeling infinite.

Sarah shared with me about how long she'd been struggling with depression. She talked about being scared and stuck here and that she felt like she was losing her grip on reality.

And now in the present moment, it seems she was right to be scared.

But what about me and the guys?

I decide to gather what I can and go find my friends to share what I have learned.