Page 3 of Asylum (The Wellard Asylum #9)

THREE YEARS LATER…

M y nose is itching like a motherfucker, but I can’t scratch it strapped to a gurney.

I’ve lost all feeling in my hands, and my forehead aches from the pressure of the leather strap holding my head in place.

The flickering fluorescent lights swaying from the ceiling are painfully blinding, my eyes sensitive from all the medications they’ve pumped into my body.

The old metal gurney makes for a bumpy ride, and the only sound I hear is the whining of the wheels against the concrete floor.

Maddening.

I assumed I was making progress with my treatment, Dr. Sweeney fueling my delusions, praising my hard work and cooperation. I thought I was on a healthy road to rehabilitation, but the joke’s on me.

It was all a lie.

He didn’t give a fuck about me, steadily counting the days to his retirement, not the least bit concerned about my wellbeing.

I began feeling safe, slowly letting my guard down around him, accepting his help like the good little patient I was.

I kept to myself, never causing any trouble, but in the end, it was all for nothing.

He retired, and I’ve been transferred to another facility.

Wellard Asylum.

Home to the criminally insane and depraved. I’ve heard people whisper about this place, and now that I’m here, I get it.

Two male nurses roll me down the creepy hallway, the smell of piss and shit assaulting my nostrils. A sense of dread overcomes me, the energy in this place feels oppressive and lifeless. My senses pick up on it just from my view of the ceiling, and I’m not sure I want to see the rest of it.

The obnoxious lights dim as I’m rolled into a room, my eyes darting around, attempting to see my surroundings.

The gurney stops, a female nurse approaching me from the side.

The male nurses leave the room, and she unbuckles the strap across my forehead.

“You will behave while I remove your restraints, or I will sedate you.”

I nod in agreement, and she quirks an eyebrow. “Yes ma’am.” I concede. I’ll do anything to prevent them from pumping me full of drugs. They fuck with my head, only aggravating my condition. Dr. Sweeney was adamant about keeping the sedation to a minimum as long as I played nice.

The straps around my wrists give way, and I wiggle my fingers to get the blood circulating again.

“My name is Nurse Carter. I will be assisting in your transition to Wellard Asylum.” She slips her hand behind my shoulder blades, lifting me into a sitting position.

She takes a step back, clasping her hands in front of her, staring down her nose at me.

“The rules are simple, young lady. Do as you’re told.

Do not be disrespectful. Follow the treatment plan you’re given.

Do not cause any trouble. Do you understand? ”

I nod. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to leave the room. Stay where you are. The doctor will be in to examine you.”

She exits the room, closing the metal door behind her, the lock clicking into place.

It’s a deafening reminder of my situation, and I feel the finality settling deep into my bones.

Now that I’m alone and unrestrained, I’m able to get a good look at my environment.

The walls are concrete, the dull, gray paint chipping off in parallel lines, something dark outlining what looks more like claw marks the longer I stare at them.

Squinting my eyes, I realize the deep color resembles dried blood.

A chill slithers down my spine, and I shudder.

Why are people clawing the walls?

What the fuck is this place?

A cot is pushed against the wall, the once white sheets now a piss yellow color.

Tilting my head back, the ceiling is covered in brown water stains, black mold spreading in the corners.

The air feels damp and musty, my lungs beginning to reject the tainted oxygen in this tiny room.

My gaze darts to the floor, filthy and covered in rat shit.

I’m going to die here.

Between breathing in fungus, and rodent droppings, I’ll succumb to either respiratory failure or leptospirosis.

It’s fitting, I guess. The penance for killing my family, even though they deserved it. The judgement wasn’t meant for my hand, but I delivered it anyway. My only regret is not fleeing after I finished the job.

The latch on the door makes a terrible banging noise, the metal barrier swinging open.

Nurse Carter reappears with a man wearing a white doctor’s coat, a stethoscope around his neck.

He appears to be in his early thirties, sandy brown hair, and dark eyes.

Our gazes collide and his lips part, unnerving me to the point I want to shrink into myself.

He’s rather tall, well over six feet, his posture confident, exuding dominance.

My eyes roam down his body, admiring his solid, muscular physique.

While he may be good looking, there’s something sinister about him that sets off alarm bells in my head.

He blinks a few times, gathering his composure before stepping into my space, his white coat brushing the front of my knees.

“Hello Olivia. My name is Dr. Atlas Stone. I’m in charge of your rehabilitation here at Wellard Asylum.

” His deep voice commands my attention, and I sit up straighter as he speaks.

“I’ve read through Dr. Sweeney’s notes about your disorders.

I know relocating facilities and changing physicians may be troubling, but I look forward to helping you in every way I can.

” He smirks, and a knot forms in my stomach, unsure if the tug of his lips is due to his genuine care of his patients or sinister intentions.

“Thank you,” I respond meekly, just the way these people like me.

While I may be the perfect patient, obeying every order, they have no idea what simmers just below the surface of my skin.

There’s a monster inside me, as Dr. Sweeney described when he saw me lose control.

That’s how he determined sedatives are not a good option for me.

“You’ve been diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder due to physical and sexual abuse.

You killed your father, stepmother, and stepbrother while suffering an IED episode.

The court found you unfit to stand trial, and you were sentenced to a psychiatric hospital for a minimum of twenty years. Does that about cover it?”

“Yes.” I agree, keeping my answers short and sweet.

He looks doubtful, clearly underestimating me, and my temper. With his cocky demeanor, I’m sure he’ll find out for himself. He seems like the kind of prick that will push me to my limits just to see if I’ll break.

The joke’s on him. I won’t be the one to shatter.

“Nurse Carter, you may leave.” He dismisses her, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Yes, Dr. Stone.” She nods, exiting the room, pulling the door until it’s barely ajar.

He moves closer, planting his large frame between my legs.

His hands on either side of my upper thighs, pressing into the thin cushion of the gurney.

“Listen to me very carefully, little doll. You’ll do what I say, when I say, or you will be punished.

” One hand reaches for my face, trailing his large fingers down my cheek.

“I’m your God, now.” He leans in, his face uncomfortably close to mine.

“As long as you’re a good girl, you and I will get along just fine. ”

My body trembles at his words, and I read between the lines.

I’ll be his fucking puppet, and he’ll be my master.

I want to claw his fucking eyes out. I killed my family because my father beat me, my stepmother hated me, and my stepbrother raped me.

After three years of rehabilitation, I saw a glimmer of hope for myself.

Now, it feels like I’ve been snatched back into my past, another man doing whatever the fuck he wants to me with no consequences.

My shoulders deflate, and I’m filled with hopelessness once again, knowing I can’t fight a doctor at a mental asylum.

The little voice in my head hasn’t made a sound since I was last sedated.

With it gone, I’m alone, making way for the depression and despair to take over, my compliance easily secured by whoever demands it.

Meeting Dr. Stone’s gaze, I nod my acceptance, my defeat making him grin.

“You’re a gorgeous little doll, aren’t you?

So young and delicate. I’m no fool, Olivia.

I’ve read every word in your file. I know you have a monster inside you.

Rest assured, mine is bigger and more ferocious.

I know what induces your episodes, and I know what brings you out of them.

I can be your ally or your tormentor. It’s your choice. ”

My breath hitches, realizing I’m in actual hell. I wish I could bring on an IED episode now, so I could rip his fucking head off, and end this shit show before it begins. “I understand.”

He pulls away, smiling victoriously. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll give you today to acclimate to your new home. We’ll resume your treatment tomorrow.”