The rest of the morning was… well, relatively boring by my new standards. It was funny how that realization snuck up on me. What kind of life was I living where a span of four hours without being impaled, possessed, or emotionally beaten now counted as dull?

Was this my new standard of living? Had the other ghost seers lived such a chaotic life, or was this unusual, even by their standards? I had to hope for the latter because at my current rate, I’d be dead within the week.

I sat in my wheelchair, pretending to watch as a handful of patients attempted to perform a morning yoga routine in the recreation room. By this point, most of the patients were half assing their workout. Even the instructor looked to be phoning it in.

That was fine by me. I had strategically picked this part of the room because no one was going to ask the boy in the wheelchair to get up and do yoga.

My actions from earlier in the morning hadn’t gone unnoticed. Around attempt number six to coax some ghosts into remembering who they were, I started catching sideways glances from the staff.

To them, it probably looked like I was talking to myself. If I was being honest, they weren't completely wrong. Regardless of what I tried, none of the ghosts even remotely acknowledged my existence.

It was extremely frustrating to fail time after time without seeing a hint of progress. I had to step back and remind myself, there was a good chance that this wasn’t the ghosts fault. No, It was on me to find a way to unlock their memories.

Still, in Cottonwood, if you talk to yourself too much you get put on a list. Even if I did look my best in blue, I had no desire to slip on those scrubs.

For now, I had to lay low. So it was either sit here and watch as people bent over to touch their toes or go to group therapy. It was an easy decision. I needed alone time to figure out how to continue my efforts without drawing attention to myself. This option provided me the best opportunity to think undisturbed.

Plus, I had no idea how to talk to people about my problems without being placed in here permanently. I had to avoid therapy for as long as possible. I doubt any therapist outside of Naomi's would even take me seriously. Even if she believed me, I’m not sure I fully believed myself yet.

I had to focus, time was slowly running out while I sat here bitching about my life.

Damn, this was stressful. I wish I wasn’t on the clock. I was never able to think clearly when time was involved.

That’s why I always hated games like Age of Empires or Starcraft. I would have picked a turn based game any day of the week.

I’d honestly give my left nut at this point to get rid of this power so I could go home, pop in my copy of the game civilization, grab some pizza and mountain dew, and zone out for a few mindless hours of uninterrupted fun.

But no, I had to figure this out. Maybe I could get someone to cover for me, act as a kind of ghost whisperer proxy. But who would I even trust with that? And more importantly, who in here would do it without asking too many questions?

The bell for lunch rang. Eh, Screw it. I needed food. Perhaps over lunch I would be able to come up with a better plan.

###

As I wheeled into the large open room, nostalgia hit me like a bat to the face. The lunchroom was set up like an exact replica of my elementary school cafeteria, right down to the cheap plastic trays and constant supervision by the staff.

At the far end of the room, a small section held the day’s lunch trays. The line was beginning to back up. Unfortunately, we only had an hour to get our lunch and eat and that included the wait time.

The room itself was laid out with ten long, dull grey tables, their rounded edges were accompanied by benches bolted to the floor.

The walls were painted a drab off-white that seemed to match the equally boring white of the tile floor.

It was clear that whoever designed this room hated happiness. My best guess was that it was probably some corporation that got their design pallet from the state prison.

Someone needed to email that company and remind them that a little pop of color never hurt anyone.

Above me, a drop-down ceiling sagged under the weight of its own tired fluorescent lights. A couple of them flickered now and then, casting jumpy shadows on the staff as they moved about.

The whole idea of the building being modeled after Ravenwood Elementary felt a little degrading if I was being honest. It was one more example of how poorly people were treated in this place.

There wasn’t a single patient in this place under the age of sixteen, and yet they treated everyone in here, regardless of their age or illness, like little kids.

I shuffled into line with the rest of the patients. Even with the long line, everything moved surprisingly quick. Before I knew it, I had some kind of slop plopped onto my tray that smelled like blended up fish.

Well that was a giant disappointment. Even Big Al’s would’ve looked like a five-star joint compared to this. At least the carrots and bread looked normal.

Hell, they even had those little box milk cartons for us. I used to love those things. Well at least I wouldn’t starve to death.

I glanced around, trying to look for a place to sit while also keeping an eye on the nurses as they monitored the room. They seemed to follow the same repetitive pattern. They had done it so much that their outline was literally worn into the white tile floor.

I watched as the larger gossipy nurse from earlier walked to spot A, stood there for a bit and then proceeded back to point B. This was exactly how NPC’s moved in those Hitman video games.

Growing up I remember complaining on a gaming forum that the games were so unrealistic because no one would patrol like that. I guess I owed the creators of that game an apology.

On top of that, It was also clear that a large chunk of them, the gossipy nurse included, weren't even paying attention to what was going on around them. I guess that meant they also believed this was a complete waste of time.

Movement from the far end of the room caught my eye. Courtney and Aubry were waving me over, their arms flailing like I was some long-lost friend. My first lunch in a new place, and I already had multiple people to sit with.

On top of that, they were the two cutest girls in this place. That would have never happened in Ravenwood.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

That had me thinking, If I was a solid five in the outside world, maybe I was like a seven here. There wasn’t a ton of competition around. I guess that was one positive to my situation.

I wheeled over and sat my tray down between the two girls. Courtney grinned. “What’s up, new guy?”

I had to find the perfect reply. For the love of god, don’t bring up your giant Pokemon card collection or any of your Dungeons and Dragons characters. She’s waiting on a reply. Why was I suddenly this nervous? Say something!

I finally replied, “Not much. You?”

Nailed it!

Courtney smirked. “The nurses have been talking about you.”

That stopped me in my tracks. My nerves quickly transitioned to worry. “They have? How do you know?” I didn’t mean to sound so tense, but having the staff gossiping about me wasn’t exactly comforting, especially after what I was up to earlier in the morning.

Aubry leaned forward and chuckled. “You have no idea how chatty these nurses are. If you just sit there and listen, it’s like they forget we’re not kids.”

She gestured at her chest, puffing it out to emphasize her point. “Do I look like a child to you?”

Courtney shoved her playfully. “Aubry! Stop it!”

My face heated up. I focused on my tray, pretending the slop was interesting.

Courtney rolled her eyes. “Ignore her.”

I cleared my throat. “So… what were they saying about me?”

“They seemed worried that Josiah talked to you,” Courtney whispered.

“What? Why?”

“Weird, right? We thought the same thing. You’d think they'd consider him saying anything as progress.”

I sat back, trying to keep my face neutral. How much could I trust these two? There was no way I could tell them I talked to ghosts and that I knew Dr. Klanderman was up to something. But I didn’t have time to play it safe, either.

While I weighed my options, I caught Courtney and Aubry’s eyes shift as a short woman who appeared to be in her late 40’s was wheeled to one of the tables.

She was a shorter black woman with an extremely thin waist, naturally curly black hair, and eyes that appeared slightly caved in nature. She had on the typical eloper scrubs.

I saw the connection to Naomi immediately. The resemblance was uncanny. It had to be Sharon.

“Is that her, the woman from your story?”

“Yeah, that's mom.” Aubry and Courtney said almost in unison.

“She looks to be getting worse, she's so frail now,” Aubry said.

“She does look worse. She had only been gone a few days,” Courtney said.

“Is that normal?” I asked.

“Is what normal?” Aubry asked in reply.

“I meant for her to go away for a few days.”

“They don’t do it very often, but every once in a while an eloper will disappear for a while. Rumor is that it’s for private treatment, but somehow they always come out looking worse. Still, a change this drastic was unusual.” Aubry said.

Courtney looked lost in thought. It was clear she was struggling to hold back tears. I imagined it was hard to finally find a person to call mom, only for them to slowly drift away right in front of your eyes.

It was clear they were suspicious of what was happening to the woman. This was my chance. If I had any desire for an ally, these two were most likely my best options. I just had to ask them for help.

My stomach tightened as if a million butterflies suddenly tried to explode from my insides. I froze. The nerves were back, but this time it was for a different reason.

I hadn’t felt this uncomfortable about a conversation since my Junior year of homecoming when I asked a girl named Ella to be my date. Sadly, she had already agreed to go with Johnny Larson.

They always say go for it, the worst they can say is no. Yeah, that was bullshit. There were worse things than a simple no. After I asked, things became really awkward between Ella and I. We went from being close friends to barely speaking. Would that happen here?

I had just made these friends, but what if they heard what I had to say and thought I was some crazy weirdo and decided they wanted nothing to do with me? Or worse, what if they turn me into the staff?

I took a deep breath in an attempt to lower my pulse. This wasn’t homecoming, these girls weren’t Ella, and tomorrow I got out of here anyways. Let’s be honest, as much as I wanted to, I probably wouldn’t even see them after tomorrow. I needed help now if I was going to solve this in time.

Fuck it.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you both to hear me out,” I whispered, scanning the room to make sure no one was listening. “I think something strange is going on here.”

I pulled the folded paper from my shirt and slid it onto Courtney’s lap. “Without making it obvious, do you recognize the guy in this drawing?”

Something inside me felt oddly excited about my rebellious action. This must be why all those popular kids passed notes in school. Even after everything I had done this week, this was quite the rush.

Courtney glanced down, her expression shifting. “Based on the hat and scar, it looks like Wyatt. Why do you have a drawing of him?”

“Wyatt? Who’s Wyatt?”

“I don’t know his last name.”

“Forget his last name,” I leaned in. “Just tell me who he is.”

She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t really know much. He was a nurse around a year or so ago before he left here to work at the medical center.”

“Wait, are you talking about the guy with the weird scar under his eye? I couldn’t forget a cutie like that. Even with the nasty scar. I saw him the other day when I was headed to group chat. He was dropping a box of stuff off to Dr. Klanderman,” Aubry chimed in.

Wait—what? My mind raced. Wyatt was here last week with Dr. Klanderman right before we found his dead body in that warehouse?

What the hell is going on in this town? I looked around; there was no sign of vengeful spirits anywhere. That wasn’t a surprise. Who were they following if he was dead? Were they even still in town? I needed more answers.

“Hold on, you said he showed up here this week?”

“Yeah. I tried to wave to him, but he completely ignored me. Ignored all of this! Can you believe that asshole? He used to be one of the few friendly nurses in this place. Apparently, that hospital turned him into an asshole.”

“Aubry, he was like 10 years older than you,” Courtney pointed out.

Aubry threw a hand up to her face. “Talk to the hand, Courtney. You know I like my men mature. No offense.”

I took a little offense to that. I always felt I was pretty mature for my age. However, this was not the time to argue.

“None taken.”

“Why did you have a picture of him?” Courtney pressed, ignoring Aubry's hand.

Should I tell them he’s dead? No, that would open me up to a lot of unwanted questions. I had to be honest while still keeping my distance.

“Josiah drew it. That part isn't important. I think the staff is doing something to the elopers. I mean, think about it. Why else would they be upset when Josiah talked to me? He must know something.”

The anticipation as the girls contemplated my comment made time slow to a crawl.

“Like what?” Courtney finally asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think they are drugging them somehow. If I had to guess, it's been going on for a while now.”

Courtney glanced over at Mom, then back to Aubry. “It would make sense.”

“Are you two out of your mind?” Aubry hissed.

“Aubry, Mom doesn’t just go from the woman we knew to that without some outside influence. Drugs would make a lot of sense,” Courtney argued.

“I guess. If you’re right though, confronting them could be really dangerous.”

The bell rang, lunch was over. My time was running out. This was my last shot.

“If we can prove it, I have a cop friend who can help us save Sharon and all of the others. But I only have until tomorrow to do it. I don’t think I can make it happen without your help.”

“Fine…” Aubry said reluctantly.

“Alright, new guy, how do we prove it?” Courtney asked.

“Let's meet up before dinner. I have a plan, but I need to hash out a few details first.”