Author's note: You might be familiar with my Creepypasta "The Insane Asylum". This is the sequel to it, so if you haven't read it, I'd advise you to do so. Otherwise this might not make any sense to you.
It was Halloween day and I was just putting the finishing touches on my house. I had bought loads of "spooky" rubbish from my local Buck Or Two, and also stocked up on candy. I'd decided the year before that I was getting too old for Trick-Or-Treating. This year, I was going to hand it out, rather than watch scary movies with my friends, like I did the year before.
Rebecca had come over to my house to assist Seth, Dylan, and I. Her and I were on good terms, we weren't particularly good friends, but we got along. I was 5:00pm, about an hour before kids came out in their ghost costumes, running house to house getting their pillowcases stuffed with cavities waiting to happen, and we had just finished "spookifying" my house and front yard.
All four of us slumped down on my couch, talking about irrelevant, meaningless bullshit, and eating some of the candy from the overstuffed bowl I had prepared.
About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. I gripped the bowl tighter with my hands, got up, and quickly walked to the door.
Upon opening it, no one said "Trick or treat!", like normal. All I saw was a girl, around the age of twelve to fifteen. She was quite pale. She had black hair that fell to the small of her back, baby blue eyes, a small nose with no bump on the ridge, and medium sized lips, curved into a small smile. She was wearing what looked like a hospital gown, covered in blood, thickest at the bottom, then gradually thinning to nothing at her stomach. She had a jacket that was rolled into a ball, with spatters of blood on it.
I was confused. She didn't have anything to put candy in. Though something about her face was extremely familiar, and I felt very uncomfortable. I trailed my eyes back up to her face. Her smile had spread wider.
"I take it you remember me, Melissa?" She sneered. I looked down to her wrist and saw a bracelet. I didn't even need to read it. The voice hit my ears, and so did my realization. This girl was Amelia.
I gulped and I nodded my head. She let out a familiar, haunting giggle, and vanished into thin air. I felt the blood escape from my face as it grew cold. I stepped back, and closed the door. I walked back to the couch wide-eyed, dazed.
Dylan was the first to take notice to my discontentment, "Melissa, you feel alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I have," I replied. Dylan, Seth, and Rebecca's faces now had a confused and concerned expression to them, "It was Amelia, she's back."
Their eyes widened, and their faces paled just like mine. We all stared at each other in silence. An essence of terror filled the room.
"What do we do?" Rebecca asked in a whisper, horror was clearly etched into her words.
"We can't do anything. Just ignore her until she becomes a problem," Seth said. The fear in his words was harder to recognize, but it was still there.
So, we did. I continued handing out candy and talking with them like nothing ever happened.
Nothing happened for about a week.
Seth, Dylan, and Rebecca all came to my house at around noon. They were all pale, even Seth had fear in his eyes.
"What's wrong, you guys?" I asked, furrowing my brow and motioning my hand to indicate an invitation to come in my house.
They walked in and sat on my couch, I followed.
"What's up?" I asked again.
"Nightmares," Seth started, "Amelia is coming to us in our nightmares. Causing them, I suppose."
"Well, what are they about?" I asked.
"It's like we have a birds-eye view of ourselves. We're sleeping in our beds, and she appears out of thin air. Then she stabs us, with a sick giggle," Dylan explained. I felt my face go pale again. I had the same dream, every single night, 'What's wrong?"
"I've been having the same dream," I said in a whisper.
"Well, what do we do now? She's coming into all of our dreams!" Rebecca inquired, tears streaming from her eyes.
No one said anything. We just decided that they stay over at my house for the night. As soon as we decided this, I felt terrible, but I couldn't tell them to go home, we got the sleeping bags ready and everything.
When we drifted off into a slumber, the nightmare started as per usual. I'd be looking at myself sleeping for about thirty seconds. Amelia would materialize in the middle of my room, facing me. She'd then walk towards me, holding a large knife. Then I would be awoken (in the dream) by her giggle, and then she'd stab me. But the stabbing didn't happen. She had a confused look in her eye, then I awoke (in the dream) in a concrete room. Dylan, Seth, and Rebecca were there, too. They had gotten up had the same time, looking around frantically. Then Amelia appeared, but without the knife, thankfully.
"Hello," Amelia said, with an overly sweet voice. None of us said anything, we just stared at her, "It's funny how you act so tough. I can smell your fear, Seth. Don't deny it." She began circling us, and she scratched my skin with her nails. Dylan pulled me to him, resting his hand at the middle of my back, glaring at her.
"Why are you here, doing this? What did we do to you?" Rebecca asked, having an out-of-character burst of confidence.
"Well, Melissa here tried to kill me off. By the way, that really won't happen. I'm already dead," She sneered at me, putting her face inches from mine, Dylan tightened his grip on me.
"Well, can you blame her? You fucking killed Amy, and you were going to kill Rebecca!" Seth shouted at her. A tear escaped my eye at him mentioning Amy. She was my best friend, we told each other everything, and she was taken away brutally. Because of Amelia.
"I told you I would kill her. You were so naive. Letting her leave alone. I would've gotten her eventually, anyway. You guys just made it so easy for me." She said, and she dissipated into thin air. Then we awoke.
I was panting, one hand on my stomach, the other one supporting my back off the ground. Rebecca was crying, making silent sobs, Seth had his hands balled into fists, his knuckles white, and Dylan was staring at me.
"You guys alright?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Us? Look at your arm!" Dylan said, gently putting his fingers to my left arm, and showing me. His fingers were covered in a crimson liquid. Blood. My blood.
"Shit, Melissa! It's bleeding really badly!" Seth said, and Dylan had me up to my feet in an instant. Rebecca was following, asking me if I was alright.
Dylan set me on my bathroom counter, beside the sink so most of the blood leaking from my arm would go down the drain. I turned a little to the right to grab the First Aid Kit from the cabinet behind me. I opened it and Dylan took out the Polysporin, and wiped my arm with a triple-folded piece of paper towel, and he, Seth, and Rebecca gasped.
"What? What's wrong?" I asked.
"N-Nothing. Words were carved into your arm, that's all," Dylan said. Spraying the Polysporin onto my flesh, making me flinch. Polysporin burns like a bitch.
"Hold on, I'm not done yet," Dylan said, wiping my arm again, then spraying it for the second time. Rebecca had finished unraveling the gauze and handed it to him. Dylan began wrapping my arm in the gauze, starting at my shoulder, and stopping at my elbow, Seth was fidgeting around in the kit for a safety pin, which he quickly found and handed to Dylan to fasten.
"Thank you," I said, sliding off the counter, "What did my arm have carved into it?"
"It said 'I WILL NEVER REST' in capital letters. Did you have the nightmare, too?" Dylan replied.
"Well, I had a nightmare that started off like before, but then we all 'woke up' in a concrete room, and Amelia appeared. If that's what you guys dreamt, yeah,"
"That's exactly what I dreamt!" Seth, Dylan, and Rebecca said in unison. A feeling of dread found its way into my stomach.
"Dylan, Seth?" I started, they looked to me and nodded, "Remember when we were using the Ouija board?" They slowly nodded, "Well, I remember an answer she left was saying 'Your library newspaper from 1976', should we go there to check it out? It probably has information about Amelia there. I remember my mom telling me that the Asylum shut down in 1976. It'd have to shed some light on why, you know?"
"Sure, anything that might give us some information on Amelia and that Asylum." Seth said. Dylan and Rebecca agreed.
"Won't it take forever to find a newspaper about the Asylum? If they even have it, you'll have to look through 52 weekly newspapers from 1976." Rebecca said, shifting from left to right.
"I can ask the Librarian for issues about the Asylum, specifically 1976. She'll know where they are and have them out really fast," I said, "I did that before when I was doing a school project on a forest fire close to here."
"Alright. Let's go. Your arm feel okay?" Dylan asked.
"As good as it's going to get. Let's go," I said.
It was about 8:30am and we were walking to the library in complete silence. The only thing on my mind was the newspaper, and finding out what happened in the Asylum and what happened to Amelia.
"Hello, how may I help you?" The librarian said. She was a nice old woman, in her late sixties, early seventies. She wore a pink plaid shirt with a black mid-calf skirt with black heels.
"Hello, I was wandering if you've kept any newspaper articles about the Brayside Mental Asylum? I'm looking for an issue from 1976, and maybe one from last year, about the Asylum burning down?" I asked politely. I wanted an issue from last year because it could've had any information about Amelia's family.
"Oh, yes dear. Are they with you?" She asked, motioning to my three companions.
"Yes, ma'am, they are," I nodded.
"Alright. Come to the back with me, please," She said, opening the small hip-height door for us to come in.
"Thank you," We said in unison.
We walked with the woman down the aisles of newspapers. I held the issue from last year in my right hand, I was looking around the room. It was quite nice, actually. Not what you'd expect for a room filled with newspaper issues.
As I walked, I looked to my right, and Amelia was standing in the distance, smiling with a crooked, evil grin. I gasped and flinched, jumping slightly into Dylan's arm. This surged pain through my wounded arm, and I hissed, putting my right hand over my hoodie that was covering the gauze. I was just thankful the Librarian didn't hear me.
"Are you alright?" Dylan asked in a whisper.
I nodded, "I saw Amelia,"
He nodded his head and continued walking. I could tell from his expression that he was weary.
The librarian stopped and so did we. She turned and pulled a newspaper from a stack and furrowed her brow, looking at it.
"Here you are, this is an issue about the Asylum from 1976," She said, handing it to me with a smile on her face.
"Thank you! Could I sign these two out?" I asked her.
"Oh, of course!" She said, leading the way out of the back room, closing and locking the door behind her. I signed out the books and we walked home.
"Alright. Let's read the one from 1976 first." Rebecca said as we sat down in chairs around my kitchen table.
I looked at it and it read, "BRAYSIDE ASYLUM SHUTS DOWN DUE TO FRENZIED PATIENTS"
I turned my gaze to look at my friends. They had a slight expression of puzzlement in their faces. I kept reading.
I cannot remember word-for-word what the article said, but in my interpretation: The Brayside Mental Asylum has closed because the patients rebelled against the staff and the rules. They killed themselves, each other, the staff, and their therapists. None of the patients got out of the Asylum's property due to a 911 call that was placed by an employee before getting killed by five patients. Some patients survived this ordeal, and are now being transferred to an Asylum at the other side of town. Authorities don't believe this to be a freak accident where all of the patients snapped the same day, they believe this was planned, as almost all of the mental patients took part. Funerals for the patients and staff will be discussed in private with the families of those lost.
"O-Okay. The next one?" Rebecca probed.
Again, I don't remember exactly, so my interpretation: The Brayside Mental Asylum has burned down, a month before the demolition date. A witness says that she saw four un-identified teenagers running from the Asylum minutes before it was fully engulfed. She believes that they had caused the fire. The Asylum burning hits close to home with forty-six year-old Emilee Lake, for her sister, Amelia Lake was a patient at this Asylum. She still lives in Brayside, where she and her late sister, Amelia were raised.
That was all I cared to read. I ran to my living room, looking in a cabinet for the phone book. I found it and ran back, seeing that Dylan, Rebecca, and Seth were looking at me as if I, myself, were insane.
I flipped through the phone book, looking for an Emilee. I found her and I pulled out my phone, dialing her number. The phone call is not important, I just scheduled to meet with her at her house the day after to ask her some questions about Amelia and what she was like.
I took a bus to the other side of the city and I walked down the street to Emilee's house, looking at the address numbers nailed to the fronts of the houses. When I got to her address, I turned and walked up the concrete walkway to the door. I rung the doorbell and waited.
The door opened and my eyes met an anxious, but excited looking face. When she saw me, she smiled. She had the same smile as Amelia, though not at all haunting or creepy like Amelia's. She also had the same blue eyes and lips, though she had brown hair, from what I could tell.
"Hello, are you Melissa?" Emilee asked, sticking out her hand for me to shake, I took it.
"Yeah," I said with a smile.
"Come in, come in," She welcomed me inside.
I walked into the house and took my shoes off at the door and followed her into the living room, and onto her couch.
"So, you want to talk to me about Amelia?" She asked, turning to face me.
"Yes. You see, I've gotten myself and my friends into a problem. We went into the Asylum before it burned down, and I guess we angered Amelia's spirit or something because she now pops up in our nightmares and in real life, and we think she killed one of my friends, or caused it," I explained, taking the note she had written Dylan out of my pocket and showing it to her, "I was wondering if you could tell me some information about Amelia, and maybe you could help us appease her."
She looked at me quizzically, then she spoke, "Alright, well, she died when I was ten years old. She was thirteen. Amelia got sent to the Asylum when she was ten. She had Schizophrenia, but it only got really bad when she was eight. She would tell us she would stab us in the eyes and pull our eyeballs from the sockets, and she would huddle in the corner, eating dead flies from the floor, and whenever my family and/or I would try to pull her away, she would scream and kick until she was let back to the corner. She would stare into space and giggle all the time, no doubt because of her Schizophrenia. My mother decided to put her in the Asylum when she would wake up in the middle of the night to find Amelia standing at the foot of her bed holding a knife, then gradually, every night she would get closer to my mom before she woke up. I really was the only one she had a good relationship with. She'd always tell me she was sorry for threatening to kill me, and for even stabbing me in the arm once. I knew she wasn't in a sane state of mind, even at seven years old. Well, when my mother decided to put her in the Asylum, the staff from the Asylum came to the house, and they took her away, though it was a struggle. Amelia was a tough little girl. She was kicking, screaming, and crying. Then she was put in."
I was breathless at the end of this story. All I could do was look at Emilee. She got to her feet and left the room. She came back holding a large stack of envelopes. She sat back down next to me.
"Now. These are letters from Amelia, to me. As I told you, I was the only one in my family who had a good relationship with her. I think this was because I didn't judge her, and I loved her unconditionally because I was only seven when she was taken away," She explained, handing me the letters.
I read through the letters and there were several "I'm sorry, I miss you" letters in there, and there were even some poems and drawings. There were Birthday letters, along with other Holiday themed drawings and letters. This made me feel sorry for Amelia. Then I came across a letter that was no doubt close to her death date. It read: "Hi, Emilee. This will probably be the last time I'll be writing to you, I'm sorry. They're coming for me. My attempts to end it like they told me to didn't work. The workers here are putting me into a Straight Jacket soon and only allowing me to bathe once a week. I know I'm insane now. I know, and I'm horribly sorry I couldn't be a good sister, a good daughter, a good niece, or a good friend. I wish you all a good life, and I hope you achieve all of your goals and dreams, Emilee. I love you. Signed, Amelia"
A tear escaped from my eye.
"Wait a minute, 'My attempts to end it like they told me to didn't work'? What does that mean?" I asked.
Emilee sighed, "Well, the month before, she had written to my mother, saying that she would slit her wrists the next time they let her bathe and just end it all. She had asked to not show me this because I was too young and the mental image of my sister cutting herself and laying in a bathtub with bloodied water would scar me forever. But I found the letter when I was eleven. Later, my mother found out that she had committed suicide by bashing her head against a wall and cracking her head open, and dying of blood loss."
I was dumbstruck, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Emilee."
She smiled faintly, "It's not your fault, dear. Did you get everything you needed?"
"Yes, thank you so much,"
"No problem dear, you come back here if you need me again," She said with a smile, I moved my hand to give the letters back to her, "No, you can keep them. I don't have any use for them anymore. It seems you need them more than I do."
"O-Okay. Are you sure?" I asked. This was the last of what she had over her late sister, who she obviously loved very much.
"Yes, you keep them," She said and gave me a hug goodbye, "You come back here if you need more information or help 'appeasing her', as you put it."
I nodded and walked back home. I was kind of surprised at her kindness and ease with talking about her sister. But I was ever grateful for the information she gave me about Amelia. It kind of made me have a small soft-spot for her. She didn't want to leave. She's just insane because of Schizophrenia.
When I got home, I sat down on my couch, reading the letters over again. A thin, pale, clammy hand grabbed the top of the letters and ripped them from my hands.
"Wha-?!" I gasped. I looked up to meet the face of Amelia. She looked furious.
"What is right! WHAT are you doing with these?!" She demanded.
"Y-Your sister gave them to me! I was just reading them."
Her facial expression softened at the words "Your sister", but her expression quickly went back to pissed, but she looked hurt.
"Emilee gave these to you?" She asked rhetorically, then she looked down and disappeared into thin air, in a cloud of dust. Papers in hand.
I'd decided to call Emilee and tell her what happened. I figured she had to know and be updated with events on my experiences with her late, insane, Schizophrenic sister.
I really didn't have much of a social-life anymore. I didn't talk to Dylan, Seth, or Rebecca that much since I'd spoken to Emilee. I don't really know why, I just distanced myself from them, even at school. I wouldn't walk home with them. I'd speed-walk to my locker after the final bell, and I'd rush home. Again, I'm still pondering why, but I can't come to think of any reason. This was very foolish of me, since I always saw Amelia, and had her voice ringing in my head. Every day. I eventually got way too scared that she would kill me on my way home, and I slowly started easing my existence back into Dylan, Seth, and Rebecca's lives.
They all wondered why I was avoiding them, and I couldn't tell them why, because personally, I still really have no idea.
"No, mom. I'm fine," I said. My mother had heard me scream in my sleep the night before. I was incoherent in what I was screaming, but I know what I was screaming about.
"Are you sure, Melissa? You sounded terrified, dear," She asked, putting her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes, grayish-green from the sunlight of the window we were positioned beside.
"Yeah, mom. Don't worry about it, it's nothing. Is it alright if I stay at Seth's after school until around 7:00?"
"Um, sure. Bye." She replied, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
"Bye mom. I love you," I said, turning the knob on the door.
"Hey, Dylan! Wait up!" I yelled as I ran up to him, jumping on his back.
He laughed and turned around to face me, "Hey! How are you?"
Dylan hadn't seen me for a while. After I started talking to him again, he got sick for a week.
"I'm as good as I could be, you know. Amelia," I shrugged, "How about you?"
"Same old, same old. Has anything gotten worse?" He asked, with a concerned look in his eyes.
"No. Just the nightmares," I replied.
The nightmares. They had gotten horrible. To the point where I didn't want to sleep anymore. In fact, I hadn't slept for a week straight, and the only thing that kept me going was extra-strength coffee. That is, until I passed out during math class at school and had to be taken to the nurse's office.
I was tapping my pencil on my desk, staring at a finished worksheet for History. I felt eyes burning into mine, but I couldn't see them. I felt the hatred in them. I didn't need to look around for who was glaring at me. I knew it was Amelia. No doubt she was mad because I'd come to my friends again, so the only place she could haunt me, and me alone was when I was alone or sleeping.
The bell rang for lunch and I went to put my books away. I never ate lunch at school, I was just never hungry, and if I was I always had five dollars with me in my backpack so I could get a back of chips or something from the vending machine. When I opened my locker, all of the letters that Amelia had previously took from me fell out. I scrambled to pick them up, when my hands and eyes met with shoes.
"What' are all these?" Dylan asked, bending down to pick one up. I gulped. I was nervous about this, I didn't know how he would react. Especially since I hadn't told him anything prior to this moment.
"They're letters, I suppose. They're from Amelia's sister, Emilee. Amelia wrote these when she was in the Asylum before she killed herself." I explained, half-expecting him to ask me why I didn't tell anyone. His eyes widened.
"Really? Ameila killed herself?" He looked at the front of the letter. It was stained pale yellow from age, as were all the rest of them.
Amelia was staying quiet for weeks now. It was driving me mad. I've begun to exclude myself from my friends again, and I didn't like my family anymore. Except for my sister. She's ten years old, and she was adopted two years ago. I've grown very close to her in the short amount of time we'd spent together as "siblings". I'd even started to eat dead flies that'd fallen, in the corner of the living room. Whenever my mother or my sister tried to pull me away, I would scream at kick at them. Childish, I know. But it's like they thought something was wrong with me. I was perfectly fine. Other cultures eat much crazier things than flies, I know that. It's weird. I've kind of grown to like the taste of them.
I can't shake the guilt now. I stabbed my sister because I was going to stab my mom. I'd been standing by her bed at night, waiting for her to wake up, so I could scare her. Give her some foreshadowing. Lately, though, she started sleeping with my sister, Erica beside her. I got closer, so I was almost at her face, holding the knife in a stabbing position, and she woke up. She screamed, and Erica woke up. She screamed too, and I was about to pierce my mother's flesh, when my little sister jumped in the way. I hit her arm instead of my mothers'.
My mother called the police, and they hadn't given her suggestions on where to send me, which made me a little happy, since that gave me more time to apologize to my sister.
That apology time didn't last long, as my mother had called an Asylum. They busted in and dragged me away when I was in the middle of saying "Sorry" to Erica for perhaps, literally, the seven-hundredth time. I was kicking, crying and screaming, "Let me go you assholes!". But to no avail.
They put me into a straight jacket and threw me into a room with padded white walls, and told me, "This is your new home.". They only let me have one hour of "free-time" from the restraint of the Jacket every other day, and they let you wander the Asylum, different times for different people, of course.
I spent the last year writing to my sister and my mother, but they never respond. I wouldn't blame them. They hate me. I wouldn't blame them for that, either. Dylan, Seth, and Rebecca have stopped visiting me, but Amelia hasn't. She's been haunting my dreams, far worse than she has before. I miss my sister. I miss my friends. I miss my family. It's only now, that I realize how important those things are; now, that they're taken away.
Anyway. This "free-time" was usually used to take a shower, but I spent my last five "Free-time"'s writing you this. For I am going to end it all very soon. I only have thirty minutes of "Free-time" left, but if I'm careful, I might be able to sneak into the kitchen and get a knife to stab myself with, or perhabs slit my throat.
I bid you "Goodbye", for the last time, Amelia, and readers.