Asylum ~HS AU~

I

"Cliffwood in the 1960's was home to one of the most dangerous serial killers. He would cut off a limb from one of his victims and make them eat it. He got off on torture and, not to kink same, but that's fucked up," James' voice erupts from the car, where he is setting up his Go Pro, ready to travel inside. 

"Shut up, James. This is just for a project. We'll be in and out," Freddie yells back as he tries to break open the front door to the asylum. "Just gotta find dad's records and get out," he mumbles to himself. The outside of the building has rusted bar windows that look right out of a horror movie. 

"This is just like American Horror Story!" Darcy yells. And, yes, she's not wrong. But that's not the comment the children need to hear. 

"Yeah, but I doubt Evan Peters will be here to make everything OK," Chandler mumbles while getting smacked in the arm by his girlfriend. 

"Shut the hell up," Darcy says as Chandler leans in to give her a kiss. "Mom told us not to come here, Freddie!" 

"Shut up, Darcy. You look for your dad and I'll look for mine, okay? Okay," Freddie responds. The sun is begin to set slowly when the four friends finally get inside. "You two go find Mary Edwards' office and I'll find solitary files."              

The walls to the asylum are covered in spray paint and a rotting odor of morning breath mixed with anal sex. The corners are full of dirty and a mushy substance that couldn't clearly be identified. The ceiling is caving inwards, along with the sanity of the spirits trapped within. Freddie traveled with James, looking for the solitary unit. His Go Pro was turned on and ready to record whatever he found. James was kicking a syringe of some sort on the ground. "Don't touch that," Freddie snapped with gritted teeth. James rolled his eyes and continued to follow Freddie down a long corridor with cells on either side. Before the two boys exited the hall, a loud crash was heard  from behind them. 

"What the hell was that?" James asks Freddie in a fit of panic.

"Probably an animal or something. C'mon, let's keep going." Freddie continues to search for solitary. The area they are now in what looks like an old recreation room. He sees bones of some sort lying underneath a tables with a game of rundown checkers on it. By the looks of it, only half of the checkers were there. "I just want to find my dad's records and leave." 

"Ooooor, we could google him," James says while raising his eyebrows. 

"Already tried. They all said the same things. He was a faggot who knocked up a nurse because his dick was hard, in here for homosexuality and was being 'treated,' " air quotes, "with electroshock therapy. His boyfriend was later thrown in Bloomingdale mental ward where he was beaten to death by a Mexican chronic masturbater who couldn't keep his dick soft." 

"And what are you trying to accomplish by doing this?" 

"I just...I want to feel close to him, ya know? I feel like this will bring us closer." 

"Whatever floats your boat." The boys stumble around for a few minutes before knocking down a door. The trail into the corridor and find cells with heavy grade locks. "This must be-" 

"Solitary," Freddie finishes. He scrambles around looking for door 17. Freddie brushes his rough finger tips across each and every cell number. He eventually finds a white, faded 17 on the wall. "Holy shit, this- this is it..." 

"Go in-" 

"Guys!" Darcy and Chandler come busting through the door. There was a piece of wood in Chandler's hand and Darcy was crying.  

"Darc!" Freddie yelled, using the nickname he gave her when they were kids. Freddie and Darcy were twins, I know. It's hard to believe. Their mother had intercourse with Darcy's father within 36 hours of Freddie's conception. It's possible. 

"F-Freddie, I-I..." Freddie looked at Chandler for a translation. 

"We found the office and looked for the records. We found Lou- Mr. Tomlinson's file and it had Har- Mr. Styles' file in with it. It said that he was beaten to death in Bloomingdale. We found the death certificate. Here." Chandler hands Freddie the file before he tends to Darcy.  Freddie's hands shake as he looks through both files. 

"Name: Louis William Tomlinson
Date of Birth: December 24th, 1945
Institution: Cliffwood, Lancashire, England
Date of Conviction: December 24th, 1964
Release Date: February 1st, 2004
Reason of Conviction: Homosexuality
Partner: Harry Edward Styles 
Emergency Contact: X
Prescription: X 
Method of Treatment: Electroshock Therapy
Date of Death: October 5th, 1991 " 

"Name: Harry Edward Styles
Date of Birth: February 1st, 1941
Institution: Bloomingdale, Yorkshire, England
Date of Conviction: December 24th, 1964
Release Date: February 1st, 2010
Reason of Conviction: Homosexuality
Partner: Louis William Tomlinson
Emergency Contact: X
Perscription: X
Method of Treatment: Electroshock Therapy, Hydrotherapy
Date of Death: X" 

"W-wait," Freddie speaks up, "our birthday is August 27th, 1988. Mom was only twenty years old, how-" 

"Just keep looking," Darcy says. Freddie looks back in the folder and sees a file for his mother, Marie Anne Johnson, along with clips from newspapers. 

"Marie Anne Johnson, a psychiatric doctor in England, gives birth to twins with two different fathers. One father is Louis Tomlinson, a jailed homosexual. The other father is Louis' ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles. The twins, Freddie Reign Tomlinson and Darcy Anne Styles, were born on August 27th, 1978. Styles is 31-years-old and Tomlinson is 33-years-old. The age difference was found 'sickening' by her parents and she was hung by the Catholic Church," Freddie read out loud to everyone. 

"Sister Jessica said that she died in a car accident..." Darcy whispers to herself. 

"That fucking liar!" Freddie punched the wall. "She lied to us." Freddie slowly slides down the wall and puts his face in his hands. 

"Do you want us to keep going...?" James says. 

"No! No no no no no! I can't..." Freddie trails off. 

"Okay, mate. We can leave, c'mon." James grabs Freddie and lifts him off the ground. Freddie supports his own wait and trails to the car, lagging behind his friends and sister. When they make it to the car, Freddie breaks down into tears once again. "Hey, Fred... what we saw back in there-" 

"Can we not talk about it right now? How about later, alright?" Chandler says to James. 

"Yeah, sure, mate." 

Freddie trails off in his thoughts. 

It's 1993, I'm fifteen years old. What the hell am I doing here? 

Why was dad gay? Couldn't he make himself like girls?

Who's Harry? Is he still alive? Where does he live?  Why was there no death date? 

What happened after we were born? How did the orphanage find us?