Page 33 of Asylum

He resumes eating, and I continue stroking his back, adding another finger every few minutes until I’m petting him with my palm. “Do me a favor, buddy. Don’t shred the toilet paper, okay?” He allows me to caress his slick fur, whether he’s too hungry to care, or he senses my emotions.

Once the food is gone, he tilts his head up. “Is your tummy full? Come back any time you want, sweet boy. If I have food when you visit, it’s yours.” He sniffs my hand, and I pet him one last time before he waddles away with a swollen belly.

I may be no one, but maybe Gus is happy to have me around.

I don’t want to think about how much time has passed while I’m locked in this cell twenty-four hours a day.

I’m sleeping in dried urine, and I couldn’t allow myself to have another accident. Heavy with shame, I’ve forced myself to use the bucket in the corner. The thought of using the contaminated toilet paper made me nauseous, but does it really matter at this point? Maybe I’ll get an infection that’ll speed up my journey to the afterlife.

The latch on the door clicks, startling me. Atlas strides in, oozing confidence, without a care in the world. “Hello, Olivia.”

My gaze finds the metal bucket in the corner full of urine. The only silver lining is I haven’t eaten enough to defecate in it. My skin prickles, his stare boring into the side of my face.

“You’re too beautiful to be so filthy.”

I refuse to look at him, to give him one ounce of my attention.

“You will bow to me, Olivia. I own you, and the faster you realize it, the better off you’ll be.”

My fingers flex as he comes closer, the movement pulling the skin tightly around my nails. Little sparks of pain spread through my fingertips, and I flinch.

He stops at the edge of the cot, towering over me. “You’ve soiled your bed, little doll.” He chuckles, and if ever I wished for my rage to appear, it’s now. He’s the fucking devil, torturing his patients until he kills them, selling their organs on the black market.

Sick fuck.

Lifting my chin, my eyes lock onto his. I convey every ounce of hate and disgust I feel into my gaze. His brows furrow, and he takes a step back. He watches me for a few moments before schooling his features, his casual demeanor returning. Glancing at the bucket in the corner, his eyes dart back to me before heading for the door. “You smell atrocious. I’ll send Nurse Carter in to take you to shower.” He exits the room quickly and I smile.

If my own smell didn’t turn my stomach, and my skin didn’t itch constantly from the filth, I’d refuse the shower just to piss him the fuck off.

What I’m doing isn’t working.

She has to be the most stubborn patient I’ve ever treated. Her strong will was admirable in the beginning but now I find it fucking infuriating. Why the hell does she have to be so difficult? Everything I’ve done is to help her be a better version of herself.

She consumes my every waking thought. I dream about her every night. I’m constantly revising my plan to get her out ofhere so we can have a life together. What else does she want from me?

The shock therapy didn’t work as I’d hoped. The first treatment caused her mid-level memory loss, but it could’ve been a combination of the procedure and her episode occurring at the same time. The latest therapy session wasn’t accompanied by a rage fit. That has to be the difference. It’s the only conclusion my mind will accept.

She’s been in complete isolation for a week.

She wore a straitjacket.

She lost the convenience of tending to her basic human needs.

She was provided with food and water, but just by looking at her, I could tell she hasn’t been eating. She’s pale, her cheekbones pronounced from malnutrition. It pained me to see her so filthy, sleeping in her own urine, but it had to be done.

She must be broken.

My efforts so far have not provided the desired results, but I refuse to lose hope.

I won’t give up on her.

I haven’t laid eyes on my little doll since I visited her room two days ago.

The space was needed to conjure a new plan. I must say, I’m excited about the scheme I’ve devised. I’m hardly capable of containing myself, imagining the hope in her eyes, the gratitude she’ll feel, welcoming me back into her good graces.

It’s risky, and it could go horribly wrong at any moment, but I’m willing to take the chance. If successful, it could changeeverything. I only need to sell it to Olivia, and hope she plays her part flawlessly.

Nurse Carter brought me into Atlas’s office about a half hour ago.