San Eresmos Asylum | Teen Ink

San Eresmos Asylum

June 1, 2015
By Logan Martini, Paso Robles, California
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Logan Martini, Paso Robles, California
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The author's comments:

The title should be on the front. It's not. I dunno why. Ao, the title will remain a mystery.


San Eresmo Asylum for the Criminally Insane
You sprint down the hallway, not taking even a second to see if he’s still there. A loud, “Where are you going!?” answers your question. Despite your exasperation1, you push past your exhaustion, toward the exit. You hear the huge footsteps directly behind you. You leap toward the door in a final attempt of escape form your antagonist2, but a huge fist knocks you into the wall, and you don’t get up.
Terrible rumors have been flying around the city about the new asylum3, located on the outskirts of the city. They go without adulation4, and try to censure5 the asylum and its employees quite harshly.  The rumors show disdain6 for the asylum, saying that the doctors are sadists, and do tests on the inmates. However, the diligent7 employees are well known doctors throughout the country, and have saved many lives.
So you, an exemplary8 news reporter for the San Eresmo Daily, are going into the San Eresmo Asylum for the Criminally Insane to either confirm or disprove these theories. Even with all the deleterious9 material you may come in contact with, you accept the job, as you feel empathy10 for other weak reporters who just can’t do it.
It is four o’clock in the evening, and you want to get started so you can go out with your friends afterwards, and celebrate the falsification of those ridiculous rumors. So in your backpack, you have nothing but a couple granola bars, a map to the building, and your small handheld camcorder, in which you will use to record the results.
As you walk up to the giant double doors of the asylum, your haughty11 attitude begins to fade. You creek open the door and walk in to a pristine, ostentatious12 looking foyer, with a door on each side. You take out your map. “The door on the left doesn’t exist according to the map,” you say aloud to yourself. You hesitate, but decide to be a conformist13, and walk through the door on the right.
You find that the door leads to a long hallway, with flickering lights, and flecked weird stains on the walls. There are white doors along the hallway, each with a window that peers inside the room. You take out your camera, and begin recording. You peer into the first room, to see a man sitting reclusively14 bundled up in the corner, yelling rancorous15 things at an invisible person. With camera still in hand, you walk to the next door and see a rather round man, with glasses that were dotted with little red stains. Almost like blood. You slightly shudder, and turn off your camera, and go through the next door.
The cafeteria is what you find next. As of now, it is empty, all but a man in uniform on the other side of the cafeteria. You prudently16 approach the large man and say, “I’m looking for Dr. Borris Garonne, can you direct me to his office?” The giant, who is clearly not an orator17, points towards a door to the left. “That way, but I need to see your visitors pass first.” You stare up at him in confusion, having not received one. He glared at you for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh wait, you must be from the newspaper! No, the doctor told me not to let any press by until after eight o’clock. It is currently…” he trailed off, as if trying to do math in his boulder of a head. “It’s around four,” you stated with integrity18. “Right, and that means tha--” he was cut off by a deafening siren.
You were dazed by the sudden, sharp sounds of the siren. From the door where the doctor is an inmate pushed through the door. The warden shoved you on to the ground and bounded toward the rancorous attacker. He hit the inmate so hard, you could hear his skull crack against the wall. Resilient19, the intrepid20 man pushed himself off the ground and pulled out a homemade knife, and stabbed at the warden. The wound was inconsequential to the fight, as the warden nonchalantly tossed him across the cafeteria into another wall. The man laid still on the ground.
The warden turns to you, and in a wicked way of trying to be benevolent21, he picked up the knife and offered it to you. “You can’t leave now. It’s already begun.” He turns and ran out the same door the assailant came through, and was gone.
You, unable to move because of shock, were jolted back into reality by the sound of pounding coming from the door that leads to the exit. Your mind races to come up with how to escape this adversity22 that has fallen upon you. “There has to be a fire escape. Every building has one right?” Sure enough, a sign above The Doctor’s door read “EXIT” in big red letters.
As you were hesitating, the door behind you bursts down, and ten inmates come running out. You sprint out the door and come to a room. You turn around and slam the metal door shut and lock it. The prisoners, who’d been retrained for so long, building up hate, began pounding on the door, trying to break it. You had to think fast. You whip out your map and check it. Your adrenaline must’ve made you lose your sagacity23, because you ran through the door, despite the absence of it on the map. You opened the door ahead and found a concrete staircase leading downwards. Behind you, you hear screaming and made the quick decision to head down the stairs.
After a few steps and a stumble, you regained your composure. Your head was buzzing with so many questions, thoughts and outlandish ideas of escape. Eventually you reached the bottom of the stairs. And as you gazed upon the room in front of you, a cold had of horror wrapped itself around you. You saw implements of torture, caked with dried blood. As your common sense melted away with your sanity, you scrutinized24 the room.
There was a shelf with trophies and awards, and more than the usual amount of blood on the concrete floor and walls. There was a misplaced, opulent25 looking bed in the corner and a superfluous26 amount of power tools laying around. The room was very arid27 due to its concrete floor and walls.
While still wary28, you felt daring and began to go deeper into the room. You then remembered that you’re a reporter, and began taking video on your camera. You notice that the trophy on the shelf has an engraving at the bottom. “Dr. Borris Garonne, Novice29 of the Year” and below that in small letters was etched, “For the venerable30 and precocious31 doctor. Your actions will always be remembered as heroic--” There was more, but there was a dark red stain covering it.
While you were searching around, you heard a cold voice that gave you goose-bumps from behind you. “Felling a little nosy are we?” His voice made you bravery transient32 and ephermal33. “From the press, aren’t you?” You hesitantly nod your head. His voice was like the hackneyed34 voice of a stereotypical psychopath. “Hmm…and is that camera…recording?” You are perfidious35 to your honest nature and shake your head.  “I bet your wondering what all this is,” he says, gesturing to the room.
All of a sudden you hear a screech than pounding down the stairs. “Well your curiosity will have to wait, my next patient is here.”
The round prisoner from the cell upstairs come bounding down the steps dragging behind him the limp body of the warden. “Here ya’ go boss! Yur new subject!” yelled the fat man.
“Oh, pity. My last warden. I thought he’d last at least another day. I’ll procrastinate36 a bit. Set him over there Jeffery. Then stay here.”
“Sure thing sir!” The man dragged the warden to a corner and sat on the bed. The fat man seemed to revere37 Borris.  Borris then turns to you. “Okay, look press person, I’m simply a lobbyist38 trying to change the way the world works. It simply should be me at the top with my army of freaks and all you others at the bottom under my rule.” He was trying to make you feel camaraderie39, but it was incompatible40 with the setting he was in. His amicable41 voice was also unconvincing and spurious42. “And,” he went on, “anyone unlucky enough to defy me…will become a freak. Through…surgical means.” With that, a smirk appears on his face and he turns around to go talk to Jeffery.
You then remember the wooden knife you got from the warden. You don’t know what it was that drove you, anger, fear, resentment, bravery, or just spontaneity43, but you charge at Borris, wielding your knife, and before he can react, you’ve sunk it deep into his upper back. He falls face first onto the concrete floor, and doesn’t move. Jeffery jumps up and nearly causes an earthquake running over to his lifeless master, weeping over him.
“My clairvoyance44 told me this would happen! You will suffer for an eternity for this! Prepare to feel eternal pain! He grabs a bloody battered bat from the wall and swings hard at your camera. You just realized you’ve been recording the whole thing. You’re tugged away from your worries when the bat meets firmly with your side and knocks you to the floor sending your camera rolling across the floor. You can tell it is still recording. You take out your knife and swing at his leg and miss. He swings the bat down on your ribs, breaking a few of them. “You have discredited45 my master’s fine work! You will meet an inevitable46 end!” His squeaky voice would’ve been funny had he not been trying to kill you.
As he loads up another swing you roll on your stomach, dodging the blow, but painfully laid on your ribs. You push yourself up and begin running for the stairs. You reach down and swipe up your camera. On the run, you turn it off, but are not able to replace it in your backpack. You yell over your shoulder, “How could anyone be so cruel! Have some compassion47!” Jeffery only laughs. You make it to the top, each breath felling like a knife being driven through your chest again and again. You turn to see the big florid face of Jeffery, arms and bat poised to attack. As he swings, you duck and he hits the wall with the bat really hard. He curses loudly and you shove him down the stairs. Like a beach ball, he bounces down the stone steps, and lies motionless at the bottom of the steps in a pool of red liquid.
All of your body is struggling to collaborate48 and emulate49 a healthy unbroken body. You reach the room outside of the cafeteria, and see that the inmates beat their hands to the bone to beat down the metal door. Out of the cafeteria emerges a giant man, a stature similar to the wardens’, but even bigger. He makes eye contact with you and charges. You turn and see an anachronistic50 staircase, and after noticing the “EXIT” sign above, quickly speed up it. And come to the final hallway.
You lay upon the floor, your whole body feeling broken. The giant kneels beside you. He asks, “Any last words puny?” Too frail to speak you remain silent. “Speak you insolent gerbil!”
All of a sudden adrenaline is pumping through you, and you leap to your feet and stab him multiple times. He collapses, and with your last bit of strength, you open the door, out to freedom.



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