The Choice (a Painful Past)

134

"He took his time working the girls over, before that final cut that would end their lives. He had his worktable set out with all the tools that he might need, like his blades, pliers, chains and much more. They were laid out in such a precise manner, in exactly the order that he would use them. He had practiced and honed his craft into a masterpiece. By the time he finally met Emma, he knew that he was ready to achieve perfection. Emma Blackstone was in her late teens, when she lost her parents. No man had come to claim her for marriage, so she was forced to move in with her aunt Bernice, who just so happened to be Leroy's neighbor. Leroy watched her all the time. She moved with such grace, that her beautiful, thick brown hair swung gently with each step. Sometimes, it was like her feet barely touched the ground. Her eyes were a cornflower blue, that sparkled in the sunlight, and her smile could lift anyone's spirits. Leroy was obsessed with her. He wanted nothing more in life, than to claim her, to possess her, to hold her life in his hands." I saw one young girl raise her hand, timidly, so I stopped talking and pointed at her. "You have a question?" I asked, feeling like I was pretending to be a teacher or something.

It felt weird, but not entirely a bad thing.

"Yes ma'am." She replied, softly. "Well, I wanted to ask, um, my name is Emma. Is it safe for me to be here, or will Leroy try to hurt me?"

"Aw, honey, you'll be perfectly safe." I replied, feeling a little sorry for the girl. "We won't let anything bad happen to-" My words were cut off by a high-pitched sound that kept going in and out.

"Oh, shit!" Sam exclaimed.

"Language!" I chided him, automatically.

I was just so used to doing that with everyone, when they swore around Ben or any of the other kids.

"Sorry, but do you see that?! It won't stop!" He replied, pointing at the REM pod that he had set up earlier.

Sure enough, the sound was coming from the little machine, which just so happened to be about 2 feet away from where little Emma stood.

My mouth suddenly became very dry, and the icy fingers of fear crawled up my spine.

"Um, Emma, why don't you and your partner come stand up near the front, okay?" I said, as I held my hand out towards her.

She looked terrified. She grabbed her friend's hand and almost dragged her towards me.

"Sam, it's not stopping." Colby said, keeping his eyes trained on the thing, which kept sounding out that annoying noise.

"Leroy, is that you?" Sam called out. "If it is, can you step away from the machine on the ground?" Almost immediately, the noise stopped.

"Is this really happening?" I murmured.

"Yup." Colby replied. "Leroy, do you like hearing your story? If so, could you touch the top of the antenna?" Again, the machine sounded off. "Did hearing that this girl's name is Emma excite you?" He asked.

"Whoa, too far." I murmured to him, as the machine sounded off again.

Just long beeps, back to back.

Emma's bottom lip trembled, and I watched the color drain from her face. The poor girl was terrified.

Colby looked at me, then followed my gaze to the young girl.

"Shit." He murmured. "Okay, Sam, let's move on."

"What?! But this is great! Why would we leave?" Sam exclaimed.

"Yeah, why would we leave?" Ben asked, with excitement, from his spot next to Sam. "This is so cool!"

Colby shook his head, slightly, and walked over to Sam. He leaned over and whispered in his ear.

Sam's eyes went to Emma and a look of understanding crossed his face.

"Okay, let's move on." He replied.

They gathered their equipment, except for the night vision camera, and we moved down the hall, towards the solitary confinement room.

I told the story of Jeremy, who had been wrongly convicted for murder and ended up taking his life, after one month in this room. Sam and Colby pulled out their equipment again and started asking questions. There were a few short beeps, an EMF meter spike, and one lit up cat ball.

After a few more questions, everything became silent and still. There was no more interaction.

"Okay, let's move on." I said, sighing.

I hadn't really expected any interaction with anything in this jail.

Why was it so active tonight?

Had we just not paid attention when we were younger? I mean, we didn't have all of this equipment. We were really just exploring it, because we thought it was cool.

That made me wonder if anything had happened when we were here then.

Had we missed it? I wondered what we would've done, if we had seen something.

Would we have been excited and wanted to see more or would we have run away screaming? I didn't really know. The paranormal had always interested me and I had experienced a few subtle things, but never anything right in your face, obvious.

We kept going, moving from hall to hall, investigating a few rooms, then we went upstairs.

"This is where they kept the criminals that weren't so bad." I explained. "Petty theft and things like that. Except for this one guy. He was put into this room. His name was Peter. Back then, they didn't understand things, like mental illness. Peter was schizophrenic. Does anyone know what that means?"

"It means that he was crazy." One guy blurted out.

"Well, that's actually a touchy subject today. It means that he had a mental illness. Schizophrenic means that- yes Ben?" Ben had raised his hand, so I acknowledged him.

"Doesn't Aubrey have that?" He asked.

Aubrey was my first cousin, and he was, indeed, schizophrenic.

"Yes, our cousin Aubrey does suffer from it." I replied.

"So, like, he hears voices and sees things that aren't there, right?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Yes, when he doesn't take his meds, he has delusions and hallucinations. It's much more complex than that, but that's the general idea of it. He can't figure out what is real and what isn't. Back to Peter though. Back then, they didn't understand it. They just thought that Peter was crazy. They found him sitting next to a man with a bloody rock in his hand, one night. The man was lying dead on the ground, with his head bashed in. When they went to arrest Peter, he started screaming that the man was trying to kill him, so that he could eat his brain. The town then realized that Peter was too far gone for him to remain a free man. Instead of shipping him out to the nearest asylum, they decided to just lock him in this room until the day he died. Peter was fed 3 times a day, through this little slot in the door. They never let him leave this small room. They were gracious enough to let the poor man have a few books to read, but that was the only thing Peter ever got to do."