Page 30 of Asylum

“Little doll,” he grits out, unimpressed by my reaction.

I don’t respond, trying to catch my breath.

“Olivia,” he growls.

Finally composing myself long enough to form words, I keep the smile on my face. “Did you enjoy making me your little pincushion?” His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t respond. “What’s the matter, Dr. Stone? Not the reaction you were hoping for?”

He lunges forward, wrapping his hand around my throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I laugh in his face. “I’m crazy, remember?”

He releases me, stepping back as if contemplating something. He leans down, plucking each needle from my fingers in quick succession, but I don’t feel a thing. He grinds his teeth so violently, I expect to hear them shatter. He tosses the needles on the cart, returning his attention to me. “Alright, Miss Sterling. I’ll show you how I treat crazy people.”

This bitch is testing me.

Her laughter sets me on edge, and I clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I’ll regret.

I’d expected one of her episodes, not whatever the fuck this is. She appears completely lucid, in a cognitive state of mind. Based on her usual reactions to stress, and my own personal experience with her, it’s as if another consciousness has come forward to shield her, but it’s impossible.

Olivia doesn’t have multiple personalities.

There are no notes mentioning symptoms in her file from Dr. Sweeney, nor have I witnessed this behavior from her before. I’m taken aback by the sudden change, and once we’re finished here, I’ll revisit my studies on multiple personality disorders to see if there may be a connection.

Although at this moment, I’m too pissed to care.

This type of therapy was designed to curb her attitude, ensuring she doesn’t open her mouth about what she overheard. Instead, it seems to have unlocked another side of her completely.

Her intense stare is chilling, the hair on the back of my neck rising at the eerie atmosphere I find myself occupying. The expression is foreign on her beautiful face, and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s quite bothersome. If I believed in religion, I’d say she’s possessed by a demon. Some otherworldly creature hell-bent on staring me down until I vaporize or liquify.

I don’t fucking like it.

Olivia has no control. I won’t tolerate this bullshit game she’s playing.

My irritation flares, and I pluck the needles from her fingertips in short intervals, gauging her reaction. She’s smiling, yet her eyes are devoid of all emotion. Blood trickles from her fingertips, dark lines forming in the soft tissue of the nailbeds.

She’s watching silently, that fucking grin on her face, unnerving me. I’m not used to this behavior from my patients, and I’m not in the habit of feeling a twinge of concern for my own safety. This is fucking madness, and I refuse to let her see how she’s affecting me. My perficient skills allow me to mask my unease with a cocky smirk. “Alright, Miss Sterling. I’ll show you how I treat crazy people.”

Giving her my back, I stride over to the door, knocking three times. I retreat a few steps, and it opens a few seconds later. Nurse Carter enters, pushing a cart with the electroconvulsivemachine. She’s already wrapped the metal head piece with cloth, a bowl of water sitting beside it.

It’s almost as if she knew this would be needed today.

I dip the muffs into the cool liquid, placing them on Olivia’s temples, water trickling down the sides of her face. She gives nothing away, her expression unbothered, almost bored. Surely, deep down inside, she’s terrified.

That’s what I tell myself because I don’t have an answer otherwise.

As I take the mouthguard from the cart, she opens her mouth willingly, and I slide it inside.

Is she fucking with me?

No one can disassociate this well when threatened with so much pain.

Reaching for the machine, I flip the power switch, the hum of electricity roaring to life. Without hesitating, I press the button, raw power surging into her body. Her delicate limbs extend with tension, the cords in her neck straining against the agony she’s experiencing. The vertical bands of muscle bulge as if they’re going to explode from her throat as her body tries to bow, but the restraints keep her in place. The mouthguard thickens around the edges as her teeth clamp down so tightly, I have no doubt they’d shatter if they weren’t protected.

The pure energy rockets through her system, and because she’s been more defiant than usual, I allow the electricity to soak into her body a few seconds longer than last time. Her skin becomes ghostly pale, her eyes snapped shut so tightly, the vein in her forehead pulses. Or maybe that’s from the electroshock. Chuckling to myself, my hand continues to hover over the switch that can end my little doll’s misery.

A throat clears beside me, and I turn my head, reminded Nurse Carter is in the room. “Dr. Stone, I believe she’s had enough.”

Rage blurs my vision.