Page 50 of Asylum
My doctor.
My tormentor.
My husband.
“Lilly! Can you hear me?” His panic almost seems genuine if I didn’t remember who he is.
What he’s done.
Planting my hands firmly on the floor, I fight the wave of dizziness as I push myself up. He grips my arms, helping me to stand, leading me to the couch. I don’t speak a word as he kneels before me, inspecting the wound on my forehead. “I’m so sorry, little doll.”
Bile rises in my throat. The endearment that made me feel safe and cared for is just another claim of his ownership. He’s the one in control, and I’m just an insignificant piece in his fucked game.
None of it was real.
We aren’t really married. The ring weighing heavily on my finger is just another manipulation. Another carefully thought out move in his game of deceit and betrayal.
“Kill him.”I startle at the familiar voice in my head. I’m stunned, taking a few moments to piece things together. It all falls into place, and I grin.“Hello old friend.”I think to myself, comfort and a sense of home warming my entire body.
Atlas’s voice fades away once again as my body heats, a sheen of sweat forming across my forehead. The throbbing in my skull takes a backseat to the onslaught of memories I’m sorting through. They all come back at once, and my system overloads as twenty years of despair playback in a matter of minutes. While the specs of light from earlier began with the murder of my family, the quiet whisper in my head has unleashed everything.
I remember.
My vision tunnels as the full force of my rage crawls out from the recesses of my mind. Death slithers through my chest, wrapping itself around my soul. It’s beautiful, razor-sharp thorns pierce my heart, the vines they’re attached to encasing the organ like an impenetrable shield protecting me from the world.
It’s fucking liberating.
My eyes scan the room, catching sight of a fire poker by the fireplace.
Full circle.
“Lilly,” he says my name with so much emotion; it makes me want to slit his throat.
Lifting my hand slowly, I run my fingers through his hair, fisting it as I reach the back of his head. I lean forward, our lips almost touching. “Atlas.”
His entire body jerks back, his expression almost comical. For the first time since I’ve met him, he’s speechless. Rising to his full height, he steps back, allowing me room to stand. My head is pounding, but I block it out and focus.
I’m not anxious.
I’m not terrified.
I’m not alone.
Embracing the furious bitch inside my mind, I let her soothe me like a mother coddling her newborn. A soft buzzing sensation travels the length of my body, a gentle caress guiding me into the darkness as it swallows me whole.
This is where I belong.
“Olivia.” His voice interrupts my long-awaited transformation, and I brush past him, heading towards the fireplace.
The fire poker is at my back, and as I turn his way, our gazes collide like thunder and lightning. Tension fills the room, trapping us in a prison of lies and chaos. The air charges between us, and I stifle a laugh at the panic on his face.
While I’d rather kill him where he stands, I want answers. “Explain.”
He takes a step towards me but thinks better of it, his shoulders deflating. “Olivia, please remain calm. Listen to what I have to say,” he pleads, raising his palms in surrender.
“Now, Atlas.”
He sighs, running his hands down his face. “Olivia Sterling is dead.” He gauges my reaction, and when I give him nothing, he continues. “Halstead told me to get rid of you instead of saving you. He claimed your death was a suicide and filed for your death certificate.”