By Lily Hampton, Lead Investigative Journalist, Havensport Herald
When you hear the name Dr. Roswell Sudworth, it’s hard not to feel a chill creep down your spine. In Havensport, where shadows linger longer than they should and old secrets fester, his name has taken on an almost mythical status. Sudworth isn’t just a figure from the past; he’s a ghost, a nightmare that refuses to fade away.
I first started looking into Dr. Sudworth a few months ago, spurred by a series of strange occurrences at the old Westbridge Asylum, a decaying relic sitting on the edge of Old Town, just across the river. What I found was more than just a story about a rogue doctor. It was a tangled web of horror, haunted by the whispers of those long dead and the eerie silence of those who still guard his secrets.
A Promising Start That Turned Sour
The story of Roswell Sudworth begins much like many tragic tales—full of promise and ambition. He came to Havensport in the early 1900s, a time when the city was booming, its docks bustling and industries expanding. The city needed professionals, doctors among them, to serve its growing population. Sudworth, with his background in psychiatry, was considered a catch for Westbridge Asylum.
The asylum itself was a grim place, even by the standards of the time. It housed the city’s mentally ill, those society deemed too dangerous, too strange, or too broken. From the outside, it looked like a place of healing, where modern psychiatric methods could provide care. But inside, something far darker was brewing.
As I dug deeper, I found reports from Westbridge staff—ones who survived long enough to speak about their time there. According to them, Sudworth quickly gained control of the asylum and implemented radical treatments: lobotomies, electroshock therapy, and chemical trials. These weren’t uncommon in the era, but it was clear Sudworth had an obsession with pushing boundaries—boundaries that no ethical doctor should cross.
It wasn’t long before rumors of disappearances began. Patients with no family ties, no advocates, simply vanished. At first, the disappearances were chalked up to "unfortunate circumstances." But then the whispers started—about secret experiments in the lower levels of Westbridge, where only Sudworth and a few trusted assistants were allowed to enter. That’s when things took a sinister turn.
The Horrors Beneath Westbridge
There’s no sugar-coating it: what happened in those hidden rooms beneath Westbridge Asylum is beyond the pale. I managed to dig up old police reports—ones that detail what authorities found when they raided the asylum after Sudworth’s disappearance. It wasn’t just a case of patient abuse. They found mutilated bodies, grotesque mixtures of human and animal anatomy, and medical equipment stained with blood.
According to these files, Sudworth had been conducting unsanctioned experiments, attempting to fuse human and animal traits in horrific ways. His notes, which I was able to read thanks to a few cooperative contacts in the archives, talk about "unlocking the evolutionary potential" of the human body. He believed that through these brutal experiments, he could transcend the limits of human biology.
But it wasn’t just the gore that struck me. It was the sheer madness of it all—the delusion that Sudworth seemed to have about his role as some kind of savior-scientist. The asylum staff said that in his final months, Sudworth became more withdrawn, more obsessed. By the time the authorities came knocking, Sudworth was gone, leaving behind his twisted legacy.
A Haunting at Westbridge Asylum
When I visited Westbridge Asylum for the first time, I didn’t know what to expect. The building, now crumbling and overtaken by nature, is a husk of its former self. It sits on the far side of the Haven River, its imposing silhouette visible from across the water. But the closer you get, the more you feel it—an oppressive weight, as if the building itself remembers the horrors that happened within.
I spoke to locals who refuse to go near the place. They talk of whispers, moving shadows, and cold spots in the air, even on the hottest summer days. The most unnerving stories, though, are the ones that speak of a figure in a doctor’s coat, seen through the cracked windows of the asylum. Some say it’s Sudworth’s ghost, forever trapped in the place where he did the most harm.
I won’t lie: walking through those abandoned halls, I felt something. The wind whistled through broken windows, and the floorboards creaked under my weight. At one point, I swear I heard footsteps behind me, but when I turned, no one was there. Maybe it was just my nerves. Maybe it wasn’t. But something about Westbridge sticks with you, and I wasn’t eager to stay much longer.
The Sanctuary: A Place of Refuge or Another Horror?
It was during my investigation that I first heard about The Sanctuary, a name that would soon lead me into even darker territory. Located deep in the Thornwood district, far from prying eyes, The Sanctuary was Sudworth’s private estate. Officially, it was his retreat—a place to rest and escape the demands of his work. But the more I uncovered, the more I realized that The Sanctuary was no peaceful getaway.
Rumors had long circulated that Sudworth used the estate to carry out his most extreme experiments, far from the eyes of Westbridge staff or the public. Locals spoke of strange deliveries late at night, crates being moved into the estate’s basement, and the disappearance of asylum patients who were never seen again. The few brave souls who ventured near the property claimed they heard unnatural cries coming from the woods.
But The Sanctuary has changed. Today, it’s no longer a house of horrors—it’s a women’s outreach center run by Felicity Cookson, a name well-known in the city’s social justice circles. Cookson has worked hard to turn the estate into a place of healing for women seeking refuge from difficult circumstances. The contrast between what it once was and what it is now is striking. Yet, even with its new purpose, some of the residents report strange occurrences—dreams, sensations of being watched, and an overall feeling that something from the past still lingers.
When I spoke with Cookson, she acknowledged the estate’s dark history but dismissed the notion that any of Sudworth’s "ghosts" remain. She’s determined to ensure that The Sanctuary is now a place of light. But I couldn’t help but feel the weight of its past as we walked through the halls, the shadows still heavy with the memory of what had been done there.
Sudworth’s Lingering Presence
In the past year, there’s been a spike in reports of paranormal activity at Westbridge Asylum. The place is now home to a smuggling gang, the Longshoremen, who’ve been using the asylum as a hideout. But even these hardened criminals seem shaken by what they’ve encountered. Several gang members have reported hearing Sudworth’s voice in the darkness, whispering to them as they sleep. Their leader, Reggie Kowalski, has become increasingly paranoid, convinced they’re being watched.
Then there’s the rising number of disappearances and strange behaviors among those who have visited either the asylum or The Sanctuary. The Searchers—those who track the seemingly supernatural events in the city—are beginning to connect these incidents to Sudworth’s legacy, wondering if his influence is still at play.
What Does It All Mean?
Dr. Roswell Sudworth was more than just a mad doctor—he was a man who crossed the line between science and horror, leaving a trail of destruction that Havensport is still grappling with today. Whether his spirit truly lingers at Westbridge Asylum or The Sanctuary is open to debate, but one thing is clear: the scars of his work remain.
As I stood in the ruins of Westbridge, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching. Whether it was the wind or something darker, I may never know. But I do know this: Sudworth’s shadow still hangs over Havensport, a reminder that some legacies are too dark to ever truly disappear.
Lily Hampton, Lead Investigative Journalist for the Havensport Herald, reports on the lingering mysteries and dark history of the city.
