Page 17 of Asylum
She’ll get no sympathy from me.
Can’t she see I’m doing this for her?
Without another moment of hesitation, I press the button, sending pure electricity surging into her brain. The low hum from the machine buzzes around us as Olivia’s body arches offof the gurney. The muscles in her neck strain against the skin confining them, her beautiful face contorting with agony. The mouth guard bulges at the edges, her beautiful teeth clenching in a death grip. Her entire body convulses, and I grin, knowing I’ve made the right decision.
This is exactly what she needs.
Pressing the button again, the current of raw energy ceases, and she crashes back to the gurney, her porcelain skin more pale than usual. She continues to tremble, her eyes squeezed shut, absorbing the glorious torture I’m inflicting on her sinful body. What felt like minutes were only a few seconds in reality. The longer the shock, the more likely she’d suffer brain damage. I only want to erase her trauma, not her mind completely. Long minutes pass before she slowly opens her eyes, immediately finding my gaze. My brows furrow at what I see.
Rage. Defiance. Hatred.Murder.
Shaking my head, I chuckle to myself. “Again.”
Again?
What the hell is he talking about? Why do I feel like ripping his beating heart from his fucking chest?“Kill him.”The voice whispers into my mind, sounding withered and broken.
The last thing I remember is sitting in his office, pissed off because he ignored me for days, leaving me to rot in solitary confinement. Glancing at my amused doctor, I’m startled by the dark bruises forming under his eyes, and a swollen nose withremnants of dried blood flaking beneath his nostrils. The image of Atlas stalking towards me with a syringe in his hand flashes through my mind, and I know without a doubt, I’m the cause of his injuries.
Fuck!
It feels like my brain is being slammed against my skull, and I wince at the pain in my head.
Everything hurts.
I move to cup my head, but panic sets in when my arm won’t move. My limbs aren’t working, and I can’t move my head.
Am I fucking paralyzed?
He slips a hard object over my temples, and I shiver as cold water slides down my skin, soaking into my hair. It’s then I notice something thick and rubber-like filling my mouth. “W-what?” It comes out garbled.
“Glad to have you back, Olivia. You’re IED episode has earned you a punishment this time.” He replies, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Why?” I try again, drool leaking from the corners of my mouth.
“You didn’t play nice,” he says with finality, as if his vague answer should explain everything. Without another word, he turns away from me. Before I take in my next breath, my body seizes, my back bowing painfully as agony like I’ve never felt assaults my body.
Fire.
The flames of hell rush through my veins, boiling my blood as if the sun itself is filling the vessel holding my consciousness. My muscles tighten; my core being ripped to shreds. A scream rises in my throat, but no sound escapes, my vocal cords stretched beyond their limit, along with the tendons in my neck. My hands and feet strain against the bindings, the leather biting into my skin. My jaw clenches, the thing in my mouth saving my teethfrom grinding into dust. Darkness appears at the corners of my vision, and just as I succumb to the lightning bolts piercing every molecule of my being, the electricity surging through my body stops.
As I come to, the gurney whines, wheeling me down the low-lit hallway. It takes every bit of willpower I possess to open my eyes, and I’m truly terrified as I stare through the two tiny slits. The world around me is blurry, confusing, and bleak. My limbs protest as I try to shift, restraints holding me securely in place.
The rolling, metal bed comes to a stop, a loud metal door being pushed open.
What the fuck is going on?
My lips part to ask the question firing on repeat inside my head, but my tongue won’t move. My mouth is dry, and my throat feels so raw, as if I’ve swallowed a handful of rocks. Or sandpaper. I’m wheeled into a room, two sets of hands working to remove my bindings. I want to fight them, ask why I feel like this, but I can’t do anything except groan a garbled plea, begging for this horrible feeling to go away.
Suddenly, I’m lifted off the gurney, tossed onto a bed like a bag of garbage. My head bounces off the concrete wall, pain exploding throughout my skull. I cry out, the strain of my voice adding to the excruciating agony behind my eyes.
“Oops.” Someone chuckles.
“No matter,” a woman replies flatly.Nurse Carter. “She won’t remember anyway.”
Before I can figure out what she means, a sharp prick digs into the skin on my bicep. She backs away quickly, the needle releasing from my muscle. My eyes droop immediately, and I’m fighting to hold onto consciousness. The voice in my mind, the one that usually lingers, demanding I fight and protect myself is nowhere to be found.
There’s only silence.