Page 7 of Asylum

The side of his mouth turns up. “I see Nurse Carter gave her opinion. I’ll make sure you have your things when you shower in the mornings.”

His smirk gives me pause, and before I know it, I’m returning the expression. Maybe Dr. Stone isn’t that bad. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“Why am I in the isolation ward? I was with the other patients at the other facility.”

He hums. “That was my doing. You’re new here, and I’d like for you to get accustomed to your new surroundings before letting you into the communal areas. Your disorders are triggered, and I want to understand what we’re dealing with before I introduce you to the other patients.”

The logical part of my brain understands, but I still find it unsettling. “No disrespect, but I don’t think sitting in a dark room with only a cot is going to help me. I’d think it would drive a person mad.”

He motions for me to sit on the couch, and I obey as he pulls up a chair in front of me, sitting so close, the fabric of his slacks brushes my skin. “It’s part of learning your triggers, Olivia. I know this isn’t sitting well with you, but I have a reason for everything I do.” He places his hand on my knee, and I think back to yesterday, when he invaded my personal space, calling me his little doll.

His thumb draws circles just above my knee, below where the hem of my gown stops. The sensation is different, and while he didn’t ask for permission, I find I don’t mind the contact. I’m fully aware I can protect myself once I’m pushed to a certain point, the other part of my psyche taking over. But in mynormalframe of mind, I’m uncomfortable with people invading my personal space, touching me.

Dr. Stone is hard to get a read on thus far, but my instincts are telling me he’s safe for the time being. “Will I stay locked in my room?” I whisper, staring at my hands in my lap to avoid eye contact. He’s making me nervous.

“You’ll spend some time with me every day. You’ve just transferred, and I want to ensure you receive the best treatment. I’ve transferred some of my patients to other doctors, making sure I have plenty of time to focus on you and your needs.”

Something tightens in my stomach, and I dismiss the feeling immediately. He’s the complete opposite of Dr. Sweeney, and I wonder if I jumped to conclusions about him yesterday.

He squeezes my knee, capturing my attention as he grins. “Do you have any hobbies?”

I shrug. “I like to read, but they told me I couldn’t bring my books with me when I came here.”

His brows furrow. “I’m sorry, Olivia. It’s protocol. What genre do you like to read?”

My face heats. “Anything really, but my favorite is horror and romance.”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair, taking the heat from his touch with him. “Interesting.”

I grin, my cheeks heating under his assessing gaze. His eyes darken, and I look around the room, taking in his office. I’m sitting on a black leather couch matching the leather chair he’s currently occupying. His desk is dark mahogany, literally filling half the space, a Victorian style chair behind it. The walls are covered with shelves, hundreds of books lining them, and my fingers twitch, the desire to touch every one of them overwhelming. The far wall has a closed door and a large window next to it, sunlight filtering into the bright room. It’s a welcomed view after the hours I sat in darkness yesterday.

Glancing to my left, I gasp when my eyes land on a gynecological chair, the stirrups extended, a tray lined with tools beside it.

He notices my reaction, and there’s a sudden dip in the cushion beside me, his warm body pressing against mine. “I’ll be your doctor for every need you have, little doll. I’ll treat your mind, body, and soul.”

I swallow thickly, my mouth suddenly dry. His hand comes to rest on my thigh, over the fabric of the gown, and I shiver. “I’ve never had that done.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You’re twenty years old. You’ve never had a gynecological exam?”

I shake my head, my face heating with embarrassment.

His fingers grip my chin softly, turning my face to his. “Don’t hide from me. I’m going to take care of you.”

This man is fucking dangerous, his promises alluring, and I feel something tighten deep inside my chest.

I can’t trust my instincts.

I cared for my stepmother and stepbrother in the beginning.

I loved my mother and father.

But here I am, locked in a fucking insane asylum because I protected myself.

The justice system failed me.

An underage girl being physically and sexually abused was okay, but defending myself wasn’t.