Nails Page #4

I met Eric Nilsson,

he wasn't working here.

He was brought in

as a patient, in 1972.

I honestly don't know

much about his past.

The records were

sealed in his case.

He'd been in foster care

and had obviously been

the victim of abuse.

The most heartbreaking thing is

many of his injuries

were self-inflicted.

We had to keep his fingernails

clipped short every day.

To stop him from tearing

at his own flesh.

He improved over time.

I continued to work with him,

to help him heal his physical

and emotional scars.

Over the years he came to feel

that Hopewell was his home.

When he became an adult

he even asked for a job here.

It seemed the most

natural thing to everyone.

Eric was part of

the place by then.

- Go on.

- He seemed completely cured

except for one

lingering obsession.

He made a point of grooming

the children's hands.

Clipping their nails.

But instead of

throwing the clippings out,

he used to collect them.

Save them in little envelopes.

We all thought it was

just a harmless echo

of what he'd gone through.

But some of the staff gave him

a nickname because of it.

They used to call him "nails".

- What happened to nails?

- In 1984, shortly after

he started work here,

we had an unusual

number of child deaths.

Five, in fact.

All girls.

The police investigated.

Nothing was ever proved,

but suspicion fell on Eric.

And when they found those little

packets of fingernail clippings

from the dead girls...

Why did he kill the girls?

- I've asked myself that

for the past thirty years.

Eric seemed genuinely

devoted to those girls.

I think in his own twisted mind

he was freeing them.

Saving them from the

abuse that he'd endured.

They'd stay innocent forever.

And then he hanged himself.

- Where did nails kill himself?

- That's not important.

- Was it here at the hospital?

Was it here in my room?

In that cupboard?

- I've already said

more than I should.

Eric Nilsson is dead

and gone, Dana.

His tortured soul is at rest.

He is not coming back.

- Hey, mom.

Hope I'm not calling too late.

Are you okay?

- Yes.

This is my happy face.

Same as my angry face.

- I wanted to come

to the hospital,

but dad said I've missed so

much school with your recovery.

- He's right.

- He feels...

I don't know how to say it.

I think he feels responsible.

Like he's failed you somehow.

- He hasn't.

- It's just so hard.

He's on the phone all day

with these d*ckhead

insurance people.

Sorry, shouldn't swear.

- It's okay.

You swear all the time.

Don't think I know.

- Here, I brought you

some snacks.

- Thanks.

I'm just talking to mom.

- Oh, hi, Mrs. Milgrom.

I'm Ashley from the track team.

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