Page 20 of Asylum (The Wellard Asylum #9)

T his bitch is testing me.

Her laughter sets me on edge, and I clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I’ll regret.

I’d expected one of her episodes, not whatever the fuck this is. She appears completely lucid, in a cognitive state of mind. Based on her usual reactions to stress, and my own personal experience with her, it’s as if another consciousness has come forward to shield her, but it’s impossible.

Olivia doesn’t have multiple personalities.

There are no notes mentioning symptoms in her file from Dr. Sweeney, nor have I witnessed this behavior from her before. I’m taken aback by the sudden change, and once we’re finished here, I’ll revisit my studies on multiple personality disorders to see if there may be a connection.

Although at this moment, I’m too pissed to care.

This type of therapy was designed to curb her attitude, ensuring she doesn’t open her mouth about what she overheard. Instead, it seems to have unlocked another side of her completely.

Her intense stare is chilling, the hair on the back of my neck rising at the eerie atmosphere I find myself occupying.

The expression is foreign on her beautiful face, and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s quite bothersome.

If I believed in religion, I’d say she’s possessed by a demon.

Some otherworldly creature hell-bent on staring me down until I vaporize or liquify.

I don’t fucking like it.

Olivia has no control. I won’t tolerate this bullshit game she’s playing.

My irritation flares, and I pluck the needles from her fingertips in short intervals, gauging her reaction. She’s smiling, yet her eyes are devoid of all emotion. Blood trickles from her fingertips, dark lines forming in the soft tissue of the nailbeds.

She’s watching silently, that fucking grin on her face, unnerving me.

I’m not used to this behavior from my patients, and I’m not in the habit of feeling a twinge of concern for my own safety.

This is fucking madness, and I refuse to let her see how she’s affecting me.

My perficient skills allow me to mask my unease with a cocky smirk.

“Alright, Miss Sterling. I’ll show you how I treat crazy people. ”

Giving her my back, I stride over to the door, knocking three times. I retreat a few steps, and it opens a few seconds later. Nurse Carter enters, pushing a cart with the electroconvulsive machine. She’s already wrapped the metal head piece with cloth, a bowl of water sitting beside it.

It’s almost as if she knew this would be needed today.

I dip the muffs into the cool liquid, placing them on Olivia’s temples, water trickling down the sides of her face. She gives nothing away, her expression unbothered, almost bored. Surely, deep down inside, she’s terrified.

That’s what I tell myself because I don’t have an answer otherwise.

As I take the mouthguard from the cart, she opens her mouth willingly, and I slide it inside.

Is she fucking with me?

No one can disassociate this well when threatened with so much pain.

Reaching for the machine, I flip the power switch, the hum of electricity roaring to life.

Without hesitating, I press the button, raw power surging into her body.

Her delicate limbs extend with tension, the cords in her neck straining against the agony she’s experiencing.

The vertical bands of muscle bulge as if they’re going to explode from her throat as her body tries to bow, but the restraints keep her in place.

The mouthguard thickens around the edges as her teeth clamp down so tightly, I have no doubt they’d shatter if they weren’t protected.

The pure energy rockets through her system, and because she’s been more defiant than usual, I allow the electricity to soak into her body a few seconds longer than last time.

Her skin becomes ghostly pale, her eyes snapped shut so tightly, the vein in her forehead pulses.

Or maybe that’s from the electroshock. Chuckling to myself, my hand continues to hover over the switch that can end my little doll’s misery.

A throat clears beside me, and I turn my head, reminded Nurse Carter is in the room. “Dr. Stone, I believe she’s had enough.”

Rage blurs my vision.

Who the fuck does she think she is?

“If I wanted your opinion, Nurse Carter, I’d ask for it. Leave the room, now.” I point towards the door.

She hesitates for a moment, not leaving until I’ve flipped the switch, ensuring the power is turned off.

I really need to kill that cunt.

The door closes and I return my attention to Olivia. She lies motionless, the infuriating smile long gone and my chest loosens. Pressing two fingers to the side of her neck, her pulse is weak, but it’s still there.

You took it too far.

Lifting her eyelids, I’m startled by what I find. Multiple blood vessels have ruptured; the whites of her eyes littered with crimson lines.

Fuck.

I’ll have to do some research to see if she’s going to heal on her own, or if she’ll need to see an ophthalmologist. I have zero interest in trying to explain that to Halstead. He’d be more concerned about why I give a fuck if her vision is damaged. He’d soon let her suffer.

As I unbuckle the straps on the chair, she slumps forward, and I move quickly to catch her before she falls. She weighs nothing as I scoop her into my arms, carrying her out of the room, down the hall. Nurse Carter steps to the side as I pass, her eyes cast downward.

“Return the equipment and sanitize the chair,” I say, realizing Olivia’s backside is dripping with urine.

Entering my office, I lay her on the leather couch, making a mental note to sanitize it once she’s returned to her room.

Heading into the bathroom, I reach into the cabinet, pulling down a spare gown and panties.

I’ve kept a few extra clothing items for her in case of an emergency.

Grabbing a few cleansing wipes from the drawer, I make my way back to my office.

Kneeling at her side, I pull the soiled clothing from her body.

It’s awkward and her dead weight is inconvenient, but I make do.

Spreading her legs open, I wipe the urine from her skin, ensuring she’s clean before putting on the underwear.

Pulling her into a seating position, I slip the gown over her head, letting it fall down her body.

I sit back on my heels, wondering what the next step will be.

There’s no telling what version of Olivia we’ll be greeted with when she wakes up.

Until we know for sure, I’ll wrap her in a straitjacket.

She’s going to be unconscious for a while, she won’t even know.

I’ll instruct Nurse Carter to keep an eye on her vitals and alert me when she wakes up.

While I may have pushed the boundaries today, one thing remains the same. Olivia needs to learn a lesson. If shock therapy and needles won’t to the trick, I have no choice but to resort to deprivation therapy. I tried it on a small scale before, and it sent her into an episode the same day.

This time, I’m hoping it’ll be the catalyst that’ll finally shatter her mind. While I enjoy the challenge she presents, time is of the essence. My plan is constantly changing, adapting to her needs as they arise. I’m running out of options, and the time for games is over.

If Oliva doesn’t break soon, I’ll have to destroy her myself.