Page 23 of Asylum
My eyes dart to hers after a few minutes, noticing they’re already closed. The medication hasn’t had time to kick in, but I know she’s still exhausted from yesterday. I place the stack of papers next to the computer, as if I’m entering information.Bringing up the start menu on my desktop, I find what I’m looking for, settling back in my chair.
Solitaire.
I could’ve stayed on the couch with her. I could’ve given her the affection she craves. But as I begin playing the game, easily filling the rows, wasting time as she sleeps, I reinforce my decision.
It’s all part of the plan.
While the high of an orgasm is incredible, it only lasts for so long.
The loneliness and pain always creep back in.
It was after dark when Atlas woke me up, leading me back to my room. It was nice staying with him while he worked, the first time in a long while I’ve actually felt content.
While he was the one who executed mypunishment, he didn’t orchestrate it. I can’t fault him for following orders to keephis job. Still, there’s something heavy in my stomach, a deep pit, telling me something is really wrong with this place.
I’m curled up in a ball on the paper-thin mattress when a scraping noise captures my attention. It sounds like nails digging into the concrete.
The orderly didn’t close the slot on the door when he brought my food earlier. A stream of light shines into the dark cell, and I follow its trail until my eyes land on a hole at the bottom of the adjacent wall. I watch it for a few minutes before a tiny little head peeks out into the open room.
My body uncurls slowly, careful not to spook the little rodent. He surveys the area before the rest of his body appears, his long whiskers twitching as he sniffs the air around him. Reaching for my tray at the end of the bed, I use my index finger to scoop a dollop of the slop from the bowl they provided for dinner. Quietly as possible, I hang my hand over the side of the bed, wiggling my finger until the glob drops onto the floor. The smacking sound spooks the little guy, and he darts back into his hole.
My stomach sinks with disappointment, and I sit silently, staring at the dark void for any sign of his return. A few moments pass before he cautiously reemerges, heading straight for the questionable food. He gobbles it down like he’s starving to death, and I slowly reach for more of the mystery dinner, let it slide down my finger, onto the floor.
He jumps back, but he doesn’t run this time, making me smile. “Hi.”
He flinches, glancing up at me with beady little eyes. His whiskers twitch as his nose works overtime, trying to catch my scent.
“You’re a cute little guy. Too skinny, but cute. Come see me every night, and I’ll fatten you up. Okay, buddy?” He lets out asqueal, and I huff a strained laugh, accepting the delusion this rat can understand what I’m saying. “I’ll call you Gus.”
He stands up on his hind legs, sniffing the air again, his front feet dangling in front of him. I grab the tray with the food, placing the entire thing on the floor. Gus runs, but he returns quickly, climbing into the bowl, his tiny feet disappearing beneath the slop. He spins in a circle eagerly, gorging himself, and I smile at how happy he is. Warmth fills my chest knowing I provided that for him, along with a full belly.
Quietly as possible, I lay back down on the mattress, resting my cheek on my hands. Gus twirls round and round, cleaning the bowl, and my eyes droop as the exhaustion of the day settles over me. “Goodnight, Gus-Gus.”
I shoot up in bed, my hand flying to my chest.
A stream of light filters into the room, and it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust. No one ever closed the slot on my door. Scanning the lowly lit room, I try to figure out what woke me up. It wasn’t a nightmare this time.
“Please!” A male begs, and I flinch at the desperation in his voice.
Slowly slipping from the bed, I creep towards the door, sinking to my knees once I reach the metal barrier. Rising just enough for my eyes to see through the slot. The door across from my room is open, and I squint, not sure what I’m looking at.
There’s a long, narrow, rectangular box inside the room. It’s hollow, with metal slats around the sides every few inches, four legs raising it a couple of feet off the ground.
“No! Please! Let me out!” The man sobs, and I gasp when I realize he’s inside the box, his fingers darting through the slats, reaching for something, though I’m not sure anything can help him at this point.
What the fuck is happening?
He’s lying on his back, and as I watch the orderly close the lid, I shudder at the tight fit. The man can’t move. The click of the lock makes my stomach churn, bile rising in my throat. My vision blurs, tears stinging my eyes as I listen to the man’s pleas, witnessing his fight against the confinement. It’s like shoving a large dog into a small kennel.
“Mr. Henderson, calm down,” a familiar voice coos, and the sweetness of his tone makes the little hairs on my arms stand up.
Atlas.
He steps forward from where he was hidden, his tall frame blocking my view of the man.
“I didn’t do anything! It was a nightmare!” The man, Mr. Henderson, cries out. “Please let me out!”
Atlas circles the contraption, and I get a side view of his profile. His sandy brown hair is perfectly styled, his gray dress shirt and black slacks impeccable. He’s dressed for success and completely at ease as he watches this poor man suffer in a fucking adult crib.