Page 33 of Asylum (The Wellard Asylum #9)

I ’m hot on his heels, following him through the house, gripping his forearm as he enters the foyer. “I’m tired of being trapped in this house.”

He jerks out of my hold. “You don’t need to leave. Didn’t you learn your lesson after the accident?”

“You think I wanted to get hurt? Lose my memory? Get to know my husband again? I had to relearn my fucking life!” It’s getting hard to breathe as I feel the walls closing in on me.

“Fuck this! I’m leaving.” I’m in a t-shirt and sleep shorts with his cum leaking down my thighs, but I don’t give a fuck.

I have to get away from him. Heading for the front door, he grabs my wrist painfully, and I whirl around, slapping him across the face. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Running towards the door, I yelp as he fists my hair, snatching my head back. “You’re not going anywhere. You belong to me.” He sneers as he pins me against the wall.

“Fuck you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I didn’t know I had that in me, but damn it felt good.

His cold eyes meet mine for a split second before he backhands me across the face so hard my body falls sideways, my forehead hitting the corner of the entryway table. My vision blurs, piercing, blinding pain shooting through my head.

My hands dart out to break the fall, but in my disoriented state, I land face first on the hardwood floor, pain exploding through my head once again. I cry out, but the sound is distant, muffled by a high pitch ringing in my ears.

The world around me darkens, the throbbing in my head intensifying. I’m screaming, but there’s no sound. The ringing stops, an eerie quiet filling the air, cocooning me in silence. Little specs of light float across my vision.

Am I dead?

Lying motionless, my eyes dart between the bright spots, and my breathing stops as each illuminated point shifts into a scene, one at a time.

Memories.

Each light represents a memory from my life before, and I’m plunged into my past, both startled and horrified.

So. Much. Blood.

I’m paralyzed as I watch each segment unfold, like watching an old movie on a projector.

I’m stabbing a woman with a fire poker.

Then a man.

The shower.

Choking a younger guy with his…

Oh. My. God.

They were my family.

Memories of my stepbrother assaulting me.

A hospital.

An older man trying to help me.

Another hospital.

No. A prison.

Atlas.

Us together.

My vision darkens again, the specs of light dimming, only to return larger and more blinding than before.

The deep throbbing launches behind my eyes, snaking through the center of my skull.

It’s deep and steady, growing fiercer by the second.

A murderous scream echoes in my mind as another series of memories assault me.

Shock therapy.

Needles.

A plan for my release.

Halstead stabbed me.

And Atlas. He watched.

He…

Lobotomy.

Large hands grip my shoulders, shaking me while screaming my name, though his desperate pleas sound far away. My eyes land on his face.

My doctor.

My tormentor.

My husband.

“Lilly! Can you hear me?” His panic almost seems genuine if I didn’t remember who he is.

What he’s done.

Planting my hands firmly on the floor, I fight the wave of dizziness as I push myself up. He grips my arms, helping me to stand, leading me to the couch. I don’t speak a word as he kneels before me, inspecting the wound on my forehead. “I’m so sorry, little doll.”

Bile rises in my throat. The endearment that made me feel safe and cared for is just another claim of his ownership. He’s the one in control, and I’m just an insignificant piece in his fucked game.

None of it was real.

We aren’t really married. The ring weighing heavily on my finger is just another manipulation. Another carefully thought out move in his game of deceit and betrayal.

“Kill him.” I startle at the familiar voice in my head. I’m stunned, taking a few moments to piece things together. It all falls into place, and I grin. “Hello old friend.” I think to myself, comfort and a sense of home warming my entire body.

Atlas’s voice fades away once again as my body heats, a sheen of sweat forming across my forehead.

The throbbing in my skull takes a backseat to the onslaught of memories I’m sorting through.

They all come back at once, and my system overloads as twenty years of despair playback in a matter of minutes.

While the specs of light from earlier began with the murder of my family, the quiet whisper in my head has unleashed everything.

I remember.

My vision tunnels as the full force of my rage crawls out from the recesses of my mind.

Death slithers through my chest, wrapping itself around my soul.

It’s beautiful, razor-sharp thorns pierce my heart, the vines they’re attached to encasing the organ like an impenetrable shield protecting me from the world.

It’s fucking liberating.

My eyes scan the room, catching sight of a fire poker by the fireplace.

Full circle.

“Lilly,” he says my name with so much emotion; it makes me want to slit his throat.

Lifting my hand slowly, I run my fingers through his hair, fisting it as I reach the back of his head. I lean forward, our lips almost touching. “Atlas.”

His entire body jerks back, his expression almost comical. For the first time since I’ve met him, he’s speechless. Rising to his full height, he steps back, allowing me room to stand. My head is pounding, but I block it out and focus.

I’m not anxious.

I’m not terrified.

I’m not alone.

Embracing the furious bitch inside my mind, I let her soothe me like a mother coddling her newborn. A soft buzzing sensation travels the length of my body, a gentle caress guiding me into the darkness as it swallows me whole.

This is where I belong.

“Olivia.” His voice interrupts my long-awaited transformation, and I brush past him, heading towards the fireplace.

The fire poker is at my back, and as I turn his way, our gazes collide like thunder and lightning. Tension fills the room, trapping us in a prison of lies and chaos. The air charges between us, and I stifle a laugh at the panic on his face.

While I’d rather kill him where he stands, I want answers. “Explain.”

He takes a step towards me but thinks better of it, his shoulders deflating. “Olivia, please remain calm. Listen to what I have to say,” he pleads, raising his palms in surrender.

“Now, Atlas.”

He sighs, running his hands down his face. “Olivia Sterling is dead.” He gauges my reaction, and when I give him nothing, he continues. “Halstead told me to get rid of you instead of saving you. He claimed your death was a suicide and filed for your death certificate.”

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 facade 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.