Page 13 of Asylum (The Wellard Asylum #9)

M y eyes slowly open, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.

Everything aches, and my head is throbbing. Bringing a weak hand to my temple, I wince, my lips parting as my fingers graze the tender skin. Something crusty falls onto my gown, and I slide my fingers down to my mouth, finding my lips caked with some kind of residue.

What the fuck?

Using the collar of my gown, I scrub my lips roughly, removing all traces of the substance. I don’t think drool does that once it’s dried, but I’ve been in a deep sleep for an unknown amount of time.

Bracing my forearms, I push my upper body off the mattress, scooting backwards I’m sagging against the wall. I frown as my leg brushes a damp spot on the sheet.

Did I piss myself?

Running my fingers across the wet fabric, I realize it’s creamy and sticky, as well as the inside of my thighs. Glancing towards the end of the bed, my panties lay tangled in the sheet, and anxiety creeps in.

What the fuck happened to me?

Confusion has me tapping my fingers on the outside of my thigh, and I lose my train of thought as memories flood my muddled mind.

Arguing with Atlas in his office.

Slipping into an episode, the details just out of reach.

Strapped to a gurney, electricity surging through my body like a live wire, my entire existence rebelling against the foreign energy lighting me up from the inside out.

My heart rate spikes as I relive tiny flashes of torment. I search for more details, but an invisible wall slams into me, blocking my prodding. The fear of the unknown has me spiraling, my chest constricting, a thin sheen of sweat coating my skin.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

“I’ve got you.” The voice whispers so faintly, it sounds as though it’s carried on a nonexistent breeze through the darkness. My chest loosens a fraction, and my breaths come a little easier.

The door opens, the metal scraping across the concrete floor like a piercing bolt to my head. Nurse Carter strides in, her face sour as ever. “Let’s go, Miss Sterling. You must shower before your appointment with Dr. Stone.”

Shifting my body, it takes me a few moments to find my bearings before standing from the bed. Meeting her gaze, I ask, “What happened to me?”

She scoffs as if I’ve asked the most ridiculous question. “You had one of your tantrums. You were punished.”

Memories of my limbs seizing and pain ricochetting through my veins flash through my mind, and I flinch. I don’t utter another word to the cold bitch.

Pushing myself off the mattress to stand, I take a moment to compose myself before following her out of the room.

She leads me into the shower, placing a fresh gown and toiletries on the sink.

“Hurry up,” she snips before exiting the room, and I step under the cold spray, the temperature throwing me back onto a gurney with frigid hardness pressing against my temples.

“You’re okay,” I tell myself. Concentrating on the bar of soap in my hand, I scrub my body the best I can. Most places are hard to reach with the current state of my muscles, but I grit my teeth, powering through the discomfort.

Once I’m finished, I brush my teeth and hair, sliding on the clean gown and cotton panties.

It swallows me whole. I’ve lost more weight since arriving at Wellard Asylum, and my head hangs in sorrow, realizing this is where I’ll finally break down and wither away.

Any hope I had of receiving help with my disorders and a future living a normal life is slowly disappearing.

The road ahead looks bleak, surrounded by fractured memories, rough concrete, and impenetrable darkness.

Foolishly, I believed Atlas would be my saving grace.

I thought there was something between us.

I latched onto the idea, placing my faith in a man that says all the right things.

I know he did this to me.

My memories may be broken, but I remember him being there.

I remember the fucking pain.

He hurt me.

I don’t understand how he could do this.

What will I do now?

Leaving the shower area, I meet Nurse Carter in the hall, the silent tension suffocating as the clicking of her heels echo around us. We reach Atlas’s door, and she knocks impatiently.

“Come in,” he shouts, and my stomach churns.

The old cunt spins on her heels, walking away as I twist the handle, pushing the door open slowly.

“Have a seat on the couch, Olivia.”

Closing the door, my anxiety spikes, and I count my steps to the couch.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Another step could’ve been taken, but my fourth step is larger, so I end on an even number. Staring at the floor, I keep my gaze down as I sit on the plush, leather cushion in the middle of the couch.

“Were you counting?” He asks, and I nod. “Are you upset?” I nod again. He sighs, rising from his chair, coming to squat down in front of me. “Look at me and use your words, Olivia.”

I meet his gaze, my teeth grinding together. “What do you want me to say?” I grit out.

His jaw clenches. “Calm yourself. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

A humorless laugh bursts free before I can stop it. “Seeing as I don’t remember much, I’m not sure I can change the outcome of today.”

“What do you remember?” He asks, his hands coming to rest on my thighs as he sinks to his knees.

I ignore the heat flooding my core as his fingers brush across my sensitive skin. “We got in an argument.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What else?”

“Pain,” I sneer, pushing his hands from my legs.

His head hangs as he sighs, almost as if he feels guilty. “You were upset yesterday. You had an episode and attacked me. I had no choice but to sedate you.”

My mind catches up, allowing me to take in all the bruising on his face, remorse weighing heavy in my chest. I did that to him. “Why was I upset?”

“I’ve been busy, and we went a few days without seeing each other.

You were angry, then I was angry, and it snowballed from there.

” He meets my gaze, and emotion flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher what it is.

“It was out of my hands. Dr. Halstead took one look at me, and ordered corrective action be taken. I had to perform electric shock therapy on you.” I gasp.

“I’m sorry, Olivia. I didn’t want to do that to you, but he gave me no choice.

” His head hangs again. “Please forgive me.”

My chest tightens at his words, and I lean forward, cupping his cheek as his eyes meet mine. “You didn’t want to hurt me?”

He shakes his head. “Of course not.” He searches my face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I whisper.

He grips my hand, pulling me to my feet. He leads me into the bathroom, spinning me around to face the mirror. My breath rushes out of my lungs, and I’m horrified at my reflection. Leaning forward, I quickly spot the reason for the sensitive skin on my temples.

Burns.

I don’t dare touch them, already feeling the constant sting since waking up.

Examining myself further, I don’t miss the black circles under my eyes, the sunken cheekbones protruding from my pale face.

There’s no mirrors in the community shower area, a safety precaution, I’m sure.

They don’t want us killing them when their backs are turned.

I can’t say the idea of sinking a piece of glass into Nurse Carter’s throat has never crossed my mind.

Pulling the gown tightly around my waist, I’m shocked by how much weight I’ve lost. I’ve felt thinner, the gown growing larger and heavier, but I look terminally ill.

Disgusting.

Unhealthy.

I meet Atlas’s gaze in the mirror; his expression filled with concern.

“I don’t look like me anymore,” I whisper, a sense of loss hollowing my chest.

He takes a tentative step forward, hesitating only a moment before wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me back into his chest. “You’re fucking beautiful, Olivia. I won’t hear anything different.”

My chest heaves. “Could this happen again?”

He nods.

“I can’t control the IED. How is punishing me like this anything other than torture?” I ask, my eyes fixed on his in the mirror because I can’t stand to look at my own reflection any longer.

“It’s designed to either teach you to control your disorder or banish it completely.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I grit out. His words unsettle me further, and I’m instantly worried if we keep talking about this, I’ll lose my temper, which is the last thing I need right now.

His gaze darkens for a moment, and I bite my tongue, praying the voice inside me stays silent.

“Come.” He spins me around, leading me back into his office, seating us on the couch. “What do you need from me right now?”

I ponder his question, no clear answer springing to mind. I need the fucking pain to go away. I need to not lose myself in this concrete prison. I need out of this place.

Realizing I must’ve said the words out loud, he shakes his head. “You won’t lose yourself, little doll. You’ll hold onto me. I know it’s hard to hear this right now, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

How the fuck am I supposed to trust him when he’s the one doing this shit to me? The decision may come from the top, but it’s insane he’d go along with it. He’ll lose his job if he doesn’t do what he’s told. You could end up with someone worse. Much worse.

Does it get worse than this?

I don’t like either side of the coin, but Atlas seems to care about me. He’s my only chance at surviving this place. He watches me carefully, and I nod. “I’ll try.”

He blows out a breath, his hand coming up, his fingers stroking my cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

His words shatter something within me, and I lean into his touch. “You’re all I have, Atlas.”

He leans in, his thumb trailing across my bottom lip. “I’m all you need, little doll.”

I attempt to steady my breathing, my heart racing at his closeness. “Your face looks terrible. I-I’m sorry.”

One side of his mouth tugs up. “Are you saying I’m no longer attractive, Miss Sterling?”

I smile at that. “You’re okay, I guess.”

He pulls me onto his lap, and I wince. “I’ll give you something for the pain, sweet girl.”

I twist my fingers together between our bodies. “Will it sedate me?”

“No. It only blocks your pain receptors.” He assures me, pulling my forehead to his.

“That would be great.”

His mouth inches closer, our breaths mingling together. “I’m barely hanging on here, Olivia.”

My stomach flips. Pressing my lips to his, he groans, carefully pulling my body tightly against him.

My aches and pains fade away as his mouth devours me, slowly, methodically.

His hands slide down my back, gripping my ass, grinding me against his slack covered cock.

I moan into the kiss, my body coming alive beneath his touch. “Atlas.”

He pulls away, his eyes darkening as he watches me. Cool, calculating, a predator assessing his prey. His lips curve up slowly, his pupils blowing wide, unmasking his desire. “Lay back on the couch and spread your legs. I’m about to eat you alive, little doll.”