The Haunting of Danville Asylum

Prologue

March 20th, 1921
            Katya walked across the courtyard, heading towards the Danville Asylum. The air hung heavy with fog, the clouds overhead a dark gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Katya frowned, clutching her broken umbrella tightly in her hands. She wore her best clothes, the only good clothes she had, and the last thing she needed was the rain ruining them. The skirt was a pale faded brown, and her shirt was an off white. It was the best she had .She desperately needed this nursing job.
            Katya opened the doors to the huge brick administrative building. The inside was large and open, sunlight flooding through the large windows along the front wall. It would have been beautiful, if it weren't for the sour look on the receptionist's face, and the patients that were scattered around the room. Katya's stomach churned. Suddenly, she didn't want the job anymore, but she knew she needed it. Something felt horribly off. One of the patients sat in a wheelchair by the entrance to a hallway off to the left, staring blankly straight ahead. There was a red welt across her wrist, she was too thin, and very pale. She looked sickly, and her eyes were completely vacant, void off all emotions. Another patient stood right next to the entrance, wringing his hands and mumbling to himself. When he spotted Katya, his eyes went wide and he started screaming. Katya watched in horror as this man started to tear at his clothes, his eyes darting fervently around the room as he screamed. Bile rose in her throat as she stumbled backwards.
            A nurse came running up, and placed a hand on the man's arm. This caused him to scream even more. "Frank!" the nurse shouted, and she tugged at his arm. "Frank!" She snapped her fingers in his face and he stopped and stared at her with an expression that could have only been described as absolute terror. The nurse looked at Katya and smiled kindly. "I apologize, ma'am. I hope we didn't scare you away. Frank isn't supposed to be out here, and he knows that. Don't you Frank?" Frank didn't answer the nurse, just continued to stare at her fearfully.
            "What's wrong with him?" Katya asked.
            "What's wrong with Frank?" The nurse repeated her question, studying Frank. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you. I really don't know. I don't think anyone knows. I don't think even Frank himself knows what's wrong."
            "That's unfortunate," Katya said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man.
            "Come along now Frank. I'm going to touch you, okay? It's only to guide you back to bed. There's nothing to be afraid of," the nurse said, reaching towards Frank. He made a high-pitched squealing noise in the back of his throat and backed away from her. She sighed, the frustration becoming eminent on her face. "Frank, if you know what's best for you, you'll come with me so that I don't have to go get one of the other nurses." This seemed to get through to Frank, because he started scampering down the hall with the nurse following, and he mumbled to himself the whole way.
            Katya hesitantly walked up to the receptionist's desk, slightly shaken from the encounter with Frank. The receptionist gazed up from her paperwork, and she frowned at Katya. "May I help you?"
            "Yes, I was told to be here at eleven for an interview with Mrs. Kalahan," Katya said.
            The receptionist looked Katya up and down, and her mouth pressed into a tight disapproving line. Katya fought the urge to scowl at the woman. The woman looked like she'd never heard of a hair brush, her hair a large mass of flyaway brown curls. Her lips were too thin for her chubby face, and her eyebrows looked like giant caterpillars glued to her head. "And you are?" the foul receptionist asked Katya. She sounded like a smoker, her voice raspy and nasally.
            "Katya Kazakov, ma'am," she answered, letting her irritation be known in her tone.
            "I'll let her know you're here. You may have a seat," the woman said. The second Katya walked away, she could hear the receptionist mutter, "Figures. Damn foreigners, they're the only workers we can get. No wonder this place is falling apart."
            Katya wasn't a foreigner, she was born and raised in America, and so were her parents. She kept her mouth shut though, and patiently waited for the head nurse to interview her. Katya looked around herself, at the psychiatric patients and the beautiful interior of the building. Katya thought she was coming somewhere that would provide her with a decent income and help her start her way in the world. Katya had no idea what she was signing up for, no idea the horrors she was soon to see... The poor young girl should have just stayed at home with her parents and married. She should have just listened to her initial gut instinct when she walked through those wooden doors to the asylum and walked away.