Page 44 of Scaredy Cat
With his face sideways and one eye closed, tongue lapping at mostly air, it occurs to me he’s really not getting a lot of water. But as he seems to be enjoying himself, I decide not to question it.
The rest of his supplies go into the bottom of the server as well, except for the few treats I give him as a welcome gift. He deserves it, after all. But then, when I should go to my bathroom to shower and get ready for bed, I find myself…not.
I just stand there, watching him paw through his food, then play with one of the catnip toys I took from its packaging. By putting his bed in my room, I’m hoping he sleeps in there with me, but I know I should give him a little while to get used to me and my house before I expect anything.
“I don’t feel so lonely, all of a sudden,” I murmur to him, though the multi-colored cat obviously doesn’t respond. When he finally gets bored with his toys and heads for the kitchen, I force myself not to follow and head into my room. He doesn’t needmeas his stalker, and I already checked to make sure there’s nothing out for him to get into, and that the doors are closed and locked.
My shower is quick, lasting maybe seven minutes, and before long I’m in bed with my hair still more than damp in my haste. While I’m not tired exactly, having a headache all week has worn me out. Arugula’s arrival made me forget about it, but in the shower, it unfortunately made itself known again.
Maybe tomorrow, I think to myself, it’ll have the decency to go the fuck away. I have stuff to do, and I don’t need to feel like shit for it.
Suddenly, I feel a weight at the bottom of the bed, and in the darkness I look up, barely able to see Arugula’s silhouette in the moonlight streaming in my window. He marches up the bed like he owns it, tail up behind him, and gives an almost lecturing meow with his eyes locked on me.
“Well, I am so sorry,” I laugh, a smile spreading over my face. “If I knew your highness wanted to be in here, I would’ve given you an escort.” As I watch, he walks over the pillows, kneading one for a few seconds, before finally stretching out across the one I’m not using, with his back legs kicked close to my face. His paws flex, almost touching my nose, and when his tail flicks against the pillow, it brushes my nostrils in a way that I know will make me sneeze.
“Good night.” My fingers find his back, and I gently, hesitantly, stroke the long fur over his spine. He doesn’t move. Instead, a low purr builds in his throat, and he just stretches out a little more comfortably on the pillow.
With the sound of his purr in my ears and his soft fur under my fingers, I’m asleep before I can worry about what tomorrow will bring, or wonder if I’ll feel like doing my job and staying the night in one of the most famous haunted asylums in the country.
19
The parking lotis nearly empty when I pull up, save for a few cars clustered near the front, closest to the large, imposing building that rises from the top of the hill. I slow down and pull in beside an old, beat-up Hyundai that’s seen much, much better days, and pull my keys out of the ignition to just sit for a moment.
Easterly Ridge Sanitariumreally is one of the most impressive places I’ve ever visited. While this isn’t my first time—given that I visited for the guided tours more than once—I’ve never actually stayed the night here before.
By my count, there are seven other cars in the parking lot. If I assume one or two of them belong to the staff, that means that I’m one of about six content creators invited to stay the night, with only my phone and my flashlight for company. Excitement simmers in my chest as I look up at the imposing structure that disappears into the night sky, and I tap my fingers on my steering wheel as I wonder just how lonely it’ll be. After all, the point is to go off on our own and create content, whether that’s just inspiration for a blog entry, or collecting video and photos.
Even with several people wandering, the hospital is big enough that I doubt it’ll be difficult to go the entire night without seeing another living soul.
Indiana has finally realized that it’s October, naturally, and when I get out of my car, I shiver in my hoodie and fleece-lined leggings. Even layered up with a long-sleeve tee under the fleecy, thick material, I’m still cold and glad I’d brought my gloves that I tug over my hands.
“You’reScaredy Cat, yes?” The voice seems to come from nowhere, and I nearly levitate in surprise at the sound. My heart finally calms down after a few seconds, and I turn to see a shorter, no-nonsense woman standing behind me with her phone in her hand, the light shining on her face.
“Yeah, hi. I’m not late, right?” I ask, gesturing to the cars already here.
She shakes her head. “Not late and not the last. We’re still waiting on two. Come on in. And do you have something you’d prefer to be called?”
“Persy,” I’m quick to answer, falling into step slightly behind the woman. She doesn’t remark on it, but she gives me a quick glance, as if wondering why I’m not walking beside her. Truthfully, I’m lagging so I can stare up at the stone walls of the building with my stomach doing little flips of nervous anticipation. Reasonably, I don’t believe in ghosts. I’ve never seen one, never had one reach out and slap me across the face. But there’s a difference between not believing andknowing.Especially being somewhere like this, where the history is palpable and so many unfortunate things have happened to patients, staff, and visitors over the years.
It almost seems impossible for so many things to have happened in one place. But this hospital reminds me of a magnet for unfortunate situations impacting the people thatwander inside, or patients put here back when it was an actual destination for those who were sick.
“Have you done the guided tour?” the woman asks, breaking the silence.
“Twice,” I reply. “I really liked it. My followers do, too, and I know they’re looking forward to me doing this tonight.” Here at least I can feel confident that my stalker won’t show his face. While I had, in fact, been vocal about where I’m spending the night, it’s over an hour away from Town of Pines, and he can’t just park here, blend in, and waltz inside the hospital.
No, tonight I’ll be on my own.
Which shouldn’t feel like a disappointment.
I hate that I have to almost counsel myself to not be upset about it. I shouldnotwant my scary stalker with an appreciation for cats to show up and terrorize me with a real fucking knife he’s absolutely cut me with before.
Even though the cut was minor…the feeling from it, with his mouth on my body, had been?—
“Sorry, what?” I glance up, blinking, as it sinks in that she said something to me again. The woman doesn’t notice my slightly frazzled state, however. She just repeats the question.
“What do you think about this place? Do you think it’s really haunted?”
“Do you?” I counter, not meaning to sound aggressive. “I mean, you don’t, right? You wouldn’t work here if you thought this place was actually full of ghosts.” I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t work somewhere that felt menacing, or anywhere I believed restless spirits wander the halls.
