Page 51 of Asylum

I think back to that day in his office. The hopelessness I felt, the absolute finality of his words. I snapped, wanting nothing more than to tear his heart out for condemning me to a life of darkness and torture. As I relive every moment in his office, I’m reminded Atlas didn’t try to help me.

He didn’t intervene. He simply stood on the sidelines, enjoying the show.

He knew Halstead would never release me.

For the first time ever, I witness his perfectly crafted façade crumble beneath my gaze. He’s normally so confident, so fucking arrogant. Seeing him like this is both surprising and quite amusing. “You knew I wouldn’t walk out of his office free, didn’t you?”

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I couldn’t tell you my plan, little doll. It would’ve ruined everything.”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” I shout. “You were willing to risk me dying for shits and giggles.”

He takes a step forward. “No! I knew you would have an episode, and I knew he would hurt you. But I saved you, Olivia. It all went according to my plan. I got you out of that hell. We can be together now. Just you and me.”

With a humorless laugh, I shake my head. “After everything you’ve done to me, do you think I’d willingly be with you? Is that why you gave me a fucking lobotomy? You knew it too, Atlas. That’s why you scrambled my brain, so I’d forget all you’ve done.”

He grits his teeth. “You need me. You can’t survive without me. I’m the only one who can handle your episodes.”

“Oh, yes. You handle me alright. You sedated me, electrocuted me, and rammed a fucking ice pick into my brain.” I roll my eyes. “You’re such a fuck up. You had me where you wanted me. Your little plan came together. And what did you do? You fucking hit me and look what happened.” I chuckle. “It looks like the universe hates both of us.”

He strides over, halting a foot in front of me. “I helped you. You can live a normal life. I’ll take care of you, Olivia. I did what I had to do. For you.”

This motherfucker is delusional.

He did everything because he took pleasure in torturing me, physically and psychologically.

He’s a fucking monster.

He enjoys hurting people.

“You still work at the asylum, don’t you?” He simply nods. “You only changed your name with me?” He nods again.

He closes the distance between us, tucking a few stray hairs behind my ear. I take a step back where the fire poker leans against the brick, carefully gripping it in my hand. Bringing it flush against my back, Atlas is too focused on petting my hair to notice.

“My beautiful, little doll. You’ve always belonged to me.” His fingers move to my throat, wrapping around it firmly. “I’ll fake your death.” He leans in, burying his face in my hair. “I’ll perform whatever procedure I see fit in order to keep you with me.” He nips my earlobe, and I remember when his touch used to send a shiver down my spine.

Now, I want to vomit.

“I’ll make you my prisoner.” He trails his nose across my jaw, until his lips are a whisper against mine. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you. And do you know why?”

Shaking my head, I play the part of the broken, little doll he’s used to.

“Because the day you were brought into the asylum, you became mine.” He smirks.

Trailing my free hand up his chest, my palm comes to rest on his cheek. “Atlas.”

He leans into my touch, and for a fleeting moment, a pang of guilt hits me in the chest.

He’s the broken one.

Not me.

I’m a trauma survivor with mental illnesses, but even with those things working against me, I finally understand who I am. “I was falling in love with you. I was willing to give you everything if you would’ve treated me like a person, and not an experiment.”

He grips my wrist, pulling it away from his face, kissing my palm. “If I were capable of love, Olivia, you would have it all.”

“What is it you feel for me then?” I push.

“Obsession. You occupy every waking thought. I need to know where you are at all times. No one will ever hurt you again.”