Page 36 of Brainwashed

Trevel growled and grabbed the lamp off of my side table, whipping it across the room. My head cocked as I gazed up at him, keeping my face still, letting him know with my eyes that I would not be reacting to his temper tantrum.

He leaned over me and grated out the words,“What if I end up doing something bad… while you’re gone?”

My eyes narrowed up at him.“That would be disappointing… Wouldn’t it, Trevel?”

The way our gazes remained locked for those long, stretching seconds replays in my mind. The way his eyes darkened into a deep purple, like that of a jungle flower. The emotions he refused to let out for so long… Things I hadn’t seen since I first met him in the psychiatric facility. It was as if he was taunting me.Daringme to leave him, makingmeresponsible for his potential actions.

When we all know I’m in as much control of them as he is.

Regardless of his threats, and knowing that leaving Trevel without my care could be like leaving a live wire unattended on a busy sidewalk, he was the only one of my patients I was hesitant to leave. For the mere fact that his case has sustained me for so long.

But that’s all about to change. Because outside the window, I see an island on the horizon. And on this island, a new project awaits.

Roughly twenty-minutes later, the ferry comes to a stop, and I’m instructed back into the black SUV, which was parked on the deck below. I hadn’t noticed that it was raining, but once inside the car and driving, the windshield wipers swish back and forth rapidly. The drive only lasts about three minutes before we’re pulling right up to what looks like a side entrance of the enormous, dismal building I have to assume is Alabaster Penitentiary.

I can’t help how my eyes widen as I gaze out the window at the monstrosity before us. Even just taking in one side of the place confirms my initial assumptions. It looks like something you’d see in the movies, especially with the darkened gray skies and rain framing its destitution. The seagulls’ squawks sound like those of crows. The only thing left to complete the vibe would be a single bolt of lightning and a loud crack of thunder.Give it time.

The silent driver hops out without a word—naturally—and rounds the vehicle to open my door for me. He’s holding an umbrella to shield me from the rain, and I can’t help how much I feel like this is all for show…

Manuel Blanco wants to impress me. He wants me to see the image of him as the Warden of Alabaster Penitentiary and the master of Alabaster Isle, presiding over this place like his own dark kingdom.

And when I spot him, standing with a large officer at his side like a guard dog, I see exactly that. The image is visible precisely as he’s portraying it to me, and I have to give him props. This is quite the introduction.

“Welcome.” Manuel Blanco extends his hand to shake mine with a grin. “It’s so good to have you.”

He looks exactly as he did in the pictures I found of him. Because of course I did my own research into Manuel Blanco, orThe Ivory, as he’s often referred. He’s not someone you can just happen upon with a quick Google search, either. It takes digging, and even a wave of credentials like mine, to find any information on him. And sure enough, there is no mention anywhere of Alabaster Isle, which is to be expected.

All I know about this island is what I was told in the welcome packet emailed to me under strictly encryptedlock-and-key; Alabaster Penitentiary was built roughly fifteen years ago as an undercover government-funded prison. And at the same time, the Ivory Mansion was built across the island as a residence for Manuel Blanco, and eventually the staff of the prison.

That’s it.

I’m not doubting the truth behind those measly details, but I’d have to be highly gullible to believe that’s all there is to the story of this place.

Manuel Blanco, my strange, impeccably dressed, ivory-haired new boss, gestures to the giant beast of a man at his side and says, “Doctor, this is my second in command, Officer John Chevelle. Officer, meet Dr. Lemuel Love.”

The guard’s dark, pierced eyebrow immediately quirks. “Dr.Love…?”

I have decades of practice in not reacting to people’s reactions to my name, so I simply stare at him before muttering, “You heard correct.”

It’s just a name. Let’s move on.

The Correctional Officer, John Chevelle, looks me up and down, studiously, as if I’m not what he expected. I just stand still and blink, waiting for him to regain his manners, since I don’t need to look him over to recognize that he’s almostexactlywhat I expected from this place.

Blanco clears his throat and Officer Chevelle seems to snap back into place, extending his hand for me to shake.“Good to have you,” he says blankly.

I’m intrigued by the dynamic between the two of them. I can immediately sense that thissecond-in-commandofficer is hypnotized by The Ivory.

I wonder if he brainwashes his employees to keep them loyal… Like a cult leader.

Manuel Blanco asks, “Shall we?” Then turns and stalks inside the prison’s side entrance. Officer Chevelle follows after him like an eager puppy, and I take one last look around the darkened exterior of the prison and the surrounding scape of forest before entering my new place of employment.

The interior is even creepier, which I hadn’t thought was possible. While the Warden and Officer Chevelle lead me around the winding corridors, I can’t help but take in the conditions…

To say it’sshoddywould be doing it a favor. The place is quite literally crumbling. Black mold and leaks everywhere, cracks in the concrete. It seems to get slightly better in certain areas, like the East Wing, which is where I’m being told I’ll conduct most of my business.But as I’m given a tour, I realize there is no possible way this building is only fifteen years old. Especially when walking past what Blanco refers to as theexamination rooms. I spot an antiquated exam chair with leather straps and shackles… Followed by padded cells. Old schoolRubber Rooms.

This is the stuff I used to research when writing my first book…

I didn’t think these things existed anywhere outside of museums. To see them here, and apparently in active use, is nothing shy of extremely intriguing.