It was a foggy weekend in New York when the film crew arrived. Martin and Ophelia were hoping for better weather for the documentary on The Ferran House. Standing in front of the old world mansion Martin shivered, “Can this get any creepier? Who films a lunatic asylum in these kinds of conditions?”
Ophelia was irritated she had asked him to stop calling it that, but he thought it was funny. She blurted out her irritation, “If you don’t stop calling it that then I will make sure you don’t get to leave when we are done!” Martin just smiled, he knew he was needling her and he always enjoyed getting her in a frenzy. They had been working together for 6 years now. They both would decide on the project and do the research, but she was perfect in front of the camera and he was great behind it. This project, however, he wasn’t completely behind. Ophelia had been proposing this one since, at least, a year after they started their partnership. He wasn’t sure why she wanted it so bad, but it had come to the point that he couldn’t put it off any longer. She was threatening to leave the partnership and do her own thing without him, so he gave in. Places like this just unsettled him. He always knew people had mental issues, serious ones, but to see it up close was frightening. To think that a person’s mind and body could fracture so badly that they were unable to function, that they were trapped in their own nightmares for a lifetime scared the hell out of him.
The Ferran House was a Crisis stabilization hospital. It housed the critical emergency care cases in a secure and lock down situation. Individuals with varying disorders and varying severity were housed here. Some temporarily and others long term. The hospital was started in an old mansion that was built by Dr. Myles Ferran in 1816. It looked more like a castle in Europe than a hospital. It definitely gave a fortress vibe. Its history was shadowed in stories of abuse and mistreatment, but it was never shut down only added to. There was never a criminal case brought forward in any court that Ophelia could find and all the records she had poured over were memorializing testimonies. For anyone who ever worked for Dr. Ferran there was never a nicer, kinder, gentler individual than he. He had made it his life’s calling to care for the deranged. The property was vast and over the years other wings had been added behind the original building. There was an open unit that had been built twenty or so years ago in which they tended to patients that were not in severe crisis with minimal security measures being taken. Half of that large building had been converted to a medium term facility to monitor patients while their treatments were getting started, most were only there for a few weeks. Ten years ago, across from that addition another was built about the same size, as a juvenile ward. There had been talk that another addition would be built for the purpose of more research into the human psyche and all things broken with it. The stories of the facility had been around her whole life. Stories of murderous inmates in the locked down section, of crazies that would filet you for an evening meal. She always believed those to be myths to keep children from playing on the vast wooded property. There were also stories of brutal abuse in the name of research and tales of ghosts walking the halls still trying to free themselves. She dismissed those as well, but she thought that all the talk was what had always piqued her curiosity about the place. It loomed at the edge of their town and she would walk past the massive and ornate iron gates that guarded the drive on her way to and from school.
The Ferran House was ran by a group of doctors now, but the head of the panel was Dr. Marco Robbins. This is who Ophelia had been in touch with about working on the documentary. She wanted to focus more on the history of the place and where it was going in the future than on any actual patient in the facility. The paperwork she had come across several years ago had shown that a governmental grant was provided for a new treatment research. However, the public records of that research were extremely vague as to its type, target patient and methods that were going to be used. Dr. Robbins seemed very reluctant in conversations to discuss this research or to even allow her access for the documentary. He was insistent that the research was an amazing unique treatment regime that was much more parsimonious than any before. She heard his words of revolutionary, innovative and auspicious ringing in her ears, nothing of substance. Ophelia had built a name for herself and the town council was questioning some of the rumors coming out so she was sure that significant pressure was put on the Doctor to grant her request.
As she and Martin advanced up the long pathway to the entrance, Ophelia admired the landscaping. Beautiful flower beds in swirls of roses, allium, calendula, balsam, carnations and many more that she had no idea their names. In between and stretching to the wooded edge was a lush green polished lawn. The hours that must be spent on the upkeep kept invading her mind, she could barely keep a fern alive in her tiny apartment. Martin was yammering about the two patients that were housed here from the 80’s in accordance with the court order after they were found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was less interested in the history and more interested in the individuals inside for the documentary. He wanted to focus on the criminal aspect of the patients. Ophelia figured she could steer him away from that as they went along, she was just ecstatic that he had finally agreed to the project.
As they neared the large front porch the grand wooden doors of the entrance astonished Ophelia. She felt steadfast in this endeavor. Something in her knew that this was the project that would put her world into order that would clarify her confusions. It was the one that would answer questions she didn’t even know to ask, that would ease all of her doubts about her past, present and future. She didn’t know why or how she could just feel it deep inside. As her foot hit the first step the wide wooden doors opened to a great hallway with marble flooring. Martin put one arm hooked behind his back and gestured forward with the other, “shall we, the mouth of the beast has opened.” Ophelia gave him a side glance and scolded him as she continued up the steps. Dr. Robbins was waiting for them inside the hall. He introduced himself and shook Martins hand. He was eerily formal and standoffish. “I have arranged for a tour of the facilities for the first half of your morning while I attend necessary meetings and perform my rounds with my clients.” Ophelia thanked him and asked if she would have the opportunity to interview him today. He dismissed the idea, almost as if he didn’t intend that to ever happen, but stammered that he would have to work it in, if possible, at a later time. He escorted them further down the hall to a large desk with a small mousey woman thumbing through papers and making notes. “Nurse Stokes, please inform Orderly Caldwell that the” Dr. Robbins paused and looked at them blankly with his hand motioning to them. Neither Ophelia nor Martin had a chance to speak before he continued “well, the people I told him about are here and waiting.” She nodded but not before Dr. Robbins was already retreating through one of the doors behind the desk. Nurse Stokes looked at Martin and Ophelia instructing them to “have a seat.” She motioned to the wall behind them that was lined with big, cushy, semicircular chairs.
As they sat Martin seemed to have lost two shades of color and was now a pale, pasty white. Ophelia gave him a questioning look to which he confessed that he had a really bad feeling about this whole thing. Ophelia couldn’t understand it since she herself felt this was the documentary that was going to really launch them into fame and fortune. Martin told her that he couldn’t shake the feeling something terrible was impending and he did not like the vibes he got from Dr. Robbins. She could hear Nurse Stokes quietly whispering in the phone as she was staring straight at them. Ophelia realized that it was still and silent other than her on the phone. She expected more activity, more noise, after all it was a hospital. Where was everyone? She wondered if maybe there was such a buffer between this hall and the actual care facilities that nothing could be heard. Still she thought there would be more than just this judgmental secretary at the entryway of a secured crisis care center. As they waited Martin became more fidgety and anxious. He was wringing his hands and rubbing his thighs, he even started rocking forwards and back almost imperceptibly. Ophelia started to feel uneasy now, what was taking the Orderly so long. She was about to get up and inquire when she heard the squawk of the door behind Nurse Stokes. She assumed the large burly young man that emerged was Orderly Caldwell. He bent down close to Nurse Stokes ear from behind her chair and whispered something while never taking his eyes off the two of them. Nurse Stokes smiled and amidst her laugh she stated, “They’ll never know.” It was ominous and distressing. Orderly Caldwell walked towards them, never cracking a smile. He didn’t introduce himself or ask their names he just announced that they should follow him. He turned and even the soft rubber of his shoes seemed to echo throughout the hall. Ophelia could focus on nothing else but the silence between the thumps of his footsteps.
He guided them through the door he had come from and down another long but narrow hall. Normally Ophelia was outgoing and would be asking questions and getting to the heart of why she was there. She would be directing the others what she wanted and where she wanted to film. In this moment she found herself unable to speak, to connect with the Orderly. She felt unsure of her abilities and lost as to what she was planning on doing there. Confusion and uncertainty hung around her in a smog and obedience was all she could muster. Martin seemed to follow in some kind of bad zombie impersonation. Ophelia could feel it now, what Martin had been talking about. Dread was all around her as Orderly Caldwell opened the door at the end of the hall and ushered them in.
Hmmm… Start of another book possibly!
Ready for more!😁