Page 27

ADRIAN

M y shoes sent several rocks tumbling forward as I dug my feet into the gravel walkway and peered up at the sign that read: Welcome to Briarwood Sanitorium.

Despite what the metal placard was trying to imply, there was nothing really welcoming about the barred windows or the crumbling angel statues that adorned each of the cornices along the roof. The distant screams I could hear in the background or the manic laughter that harmonized it.

But I had to admit more than a little bout of morbid curiosity had me moving closer again as I followed John past the large wooden double doors and down the first long corridor, our footsteps echoing in time with each other.

Like a sinister dance. The swish of my bag so much louder in the quiet of the white-on-white hall while the buzzing of the halogen bulbs spoke to the old wiring hidden behind the freshly painted walls.

A few updates meant to cover up all the ugliness that happened underneath.

It worked, for most people. Not for me. I enjoyed the ugliness. Even more when I had to dig around to find it.

John led me down another long hall, taking a quick left before pushing inside a door to his right. An observation room with a large window fitted with a two-way mirror, a couple of chairs, and an old-fashioned rotary phone. Nothing else.

I looked to John, whose focus was hinged on the other side of the glass, before setting my bag on the counter in front of us. Widening my stance as I crossed my arms over my chest and followed his line of sight to see what had him so entranced his dress slacks were already tenting at the zipper.

There was a girl spread out on the metal table, a thin hospital gown barely covering her tits as a team of doctors and nurses swarmed her like vultures on a carcass.

Attaching electrodes and uncrossing wires before stepping back again.

I couldn’t hear past the glass that separated us but I could imagine the sound of all the machines, the biting odor of a sterile workspace, and the feel of a pair of latex gloves on my hands.

The girl remained perfectly still, her forehead strapped down to the platform beneath her.

Her jaw distended by the cotton bite block and her arms stretched out at her sides.

Until the first jolt of electricity sent her muscles dancing against her restraints.

The lights flickered and the window rattled in its frame as the attending physician cranked the ECT machine to the next setting, and the nurse repositioned the electrodes against the girl’s temples.

Twenty minutes later, she was carried out of the room and another patient took her place. Rinse and repeat as the bulge in John’s pants grew as wide as the menacing grin that was spreading across his lips.

We didn’t have that in common. I might have been a killer but even I had standards. I also didn’t get off on watching a bunch of teenagers piss themselves.