1906 [h.s.]

twelve

After a while, that tragically felt like less than an hour, I grew irremediably bored of the situation and stood up, hoping to find something to do. My first thought was, of course, to try to find a way out of the asylum, but I knew that leaving Harry there and going away on my own could've possibly ended up in a disaster, as I could've easily got lost in the complicated structure of the building.

I reached one of the huge windows, pressing my hand against the glass to find out if it was as impenetrable as it seemed to be. The over a century old glass shivered, but didn't break.

I sighed, sitting down again, staring at the opposite wall, where Harry was sitting. I wondered if he was a light sleeper or not. I should've probably been more careful in keeping the silence as I moved around him. So far, he was my only chance to make it out of that place alive, so I needed him to be as lucid as he could when the time came.

I stood up again, feeling restless and unable to shake away the thought that we were wasting time - time that could've been useful in trying to find a way out, if there even was a way out that is. He had probably tried to find out for an endless streak of nights, and he had always failed, one by one, night by night, proving me that it wasn't that ridiculous to think that there was absolutely no way out at all. But that didn't mean I wouldn't have tried anyway, since I was pretty sure I would've most likely gone crazy if I hadn't at least tried to do something.

I wished there could've at least been a clock to show me the passing of time and remind me that time was in fact still there, somewhere, and that we weren't completely lost in the middle of nothing. I wondered how it would've felt to be stuck there completely alone, as Harry had been for a really long time. It was shocking that he hadn't gone completely crazy - I probably would've not been able to handle something like that. The word crazy made me wonder about what had happened to him once again. I didn't really know him, but for as much as I had seen of him, he seemed a mentally stable, grounded man. I wondered how someone like him had ended up in a place like that.

I shook my head, I had to do something. Dawn was coming, it was obvious from the slight lighter shade of blue of the sky. Maybe, if I'd been careful enough and done my best to remember where I was going, I would've managed not to get lost. The light of day would've come soon, anyway. The idea of venturing alone in the asylum seemed way less scary paired up with the daylight I was sure would've come.

I took a deep breath, turning my head to glance at Harry's sleeping figure as I gathered the courage to leave alone. I didn't know why I was so worried all of sudden - after all, there wasn't anything lurking in the darkness of the asylum in that moment. Or at least, that's what I hoped.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. I just had not to get lost. I was sure I could've managed to be back before midnight for sure. There were still so many hours, anyway.

I turned around, starting to walk in the direction I knew the main door was. It was a bit tricky to find my way back there, but somehow I managed to do it. I sighed as I looked through the glass of the door, to the intense pink shade of the dawn sky. I put my hand on the handle, shaking it just for the sake of it, not being surprised when it rattled, but didn't budge.

I turned around, knowing that I wouldn't have managed to find what I needed there. At the first intersection I saw, I took the other turn, keeping in mind where I was going. Soon I saw the familiar windows of the cloister. I looked outside, realising that I was on the opposite side of the asylum. I pushed some doors open, realising that every room was completely empty. Differently from the other side, absolutely nothing had been left inside. I frowned, turning right to keep walking around the cloister, pushing open every door I walked past.

As I was rounding the cloister the sun came up, allowing me to notice a small plate attached next to the last door. I stepped closer. Three letters were engraved on it.

P. B. W.

My heart jumped in my chest as a spark of recognition ran through my mind. I knew I'd already seen those letters somewhere. They'd been on the sheet I'd found before meeting Harry... and three words with those exact initials had been on Harry's file.

Without thinking twice, I opened the door, hesitantly stepping inside, hoping that nothing horrible would've been waiting for me in there. The room wasn't particularly big, and was completely empty, some paper sheets thrown on the dirty ground, an empty shelf on one side. I kneeled next to the sheets and turned them around, noticing that nothing was written on them.

I sighed and stood up again, looking around. I couldn't exactly tell why, but that room gave me the creeps. There was something of so wrong in there, be it the air, or the feeling that something terrible could have happened in there, that I couldn't quite recognise. The whole asylum gave off that vibe, but for some reason it seemed intensified in that room, and it made me extremely uneasy.

I noticed a door, hidden on the other side of the shelf. I walked towards it and pushed it open, and it creaked on its hinges. There was a dark corridor, the sunlight coming from behind me being just enough to barely enlighten it. I stepped inside, careful to where I was putting my feet given the mild darkness. After a while I reached another door, and I pushed it open, the sudden light almost blinding me. I blinked a few times trying to adapt to the increased brightness.

I realised that I was in another room, with two huge windows with bars on them, just like every window in the entire building, and a door similar to the one I had first entered the building from.

The room was brightly enlightened, one wall almost completely covered in ivy, a few paper sheets on the ground, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on crumpled up in a corner in front of the window. I approached it carefully, moving it with a foot, discovering that it was just a bunch of bed sheets covered in dark stains. I looked up and out of the window, chills running down my spine as I noticed what was outside.

Somehow I had made it on the other side of the asylum. In front of me there was an expanse of grass, multiple greyish tombstones coming out of it here and there. I was looking at a cemetery. I rushed to the door, trying to open it and failing. I leaned my forehead against the glass, inadvertently starting to count them as I tried to make reason of what I was seeing. They were forty, meticulously disposed in rows and columns. I let my eyes glance over them, trying to understand what they were doing there, my breath hitching in my throat in the second my gaze fell over a headstone that was in the first row. It was identical to all the others, but the name on it was clearer because of how close it was to where I was standing. I passed my finger over the glass, trying to clean it at best, before reading the name again, my heart dropping in my chest when I recognised the name etched on it.

I slowly stepped back, feeling as if the air around me had grown even colder, feeling my heart thump harshly against my chest as I kept staring at it, hoping that I had just read wrong, and that it wasn't the name I thought it was. But it was, I knew, deep inside, that it was. I suddenly felt sick, my stomach retching the little food I'd had the day before on the dirty stone floor of the room. I stood there, my hand on my knees, panting harshly as I tried to understand. But how could I?

I stood up, feeling as if I was about to choke on my own breath, turning around and storming out of the room.