Page 20 of Lethal (Wellard Asylum #1)

I wake in the semi-darkness with my heart beating furiously against my chest, something triggering me awake.

At first, I can’t seem to pry my heavy eyelids open.

My lashes are stuck together, from all the desperate and ugly crying I had done last night, and the makeup I didn’t have the energy to wash off, after I consumed a bottle of wine alone.

My mouth is drier than a desert and tastes like death.

“Fuck!” My stomach rolls as I attempt to sit up, reminding me that it’s filled with only alcohol.

The dream, or more accurately, the nightmare that had me in its grasp, is still coiled around my chest like a thick, unyielding boa constrictor, squeezing me tightly, until I feel like my chest will burst. Bash’s voice is in my ear, and Wren’s disturbing laughter echoes in the walls.

The hair on my nape, and on my arms, stands on end, and I have a sensation that something sinister and violent is in the room with me, getting ready to attack me.

Get your shit together. No one is here, you’re locked up in your apartment alone, and being as unhinged as your damn patients, I chastise myself, as I force my weary eyes to open and my back to press against my upholstered headboard.

I inhale deeply through my nose, urging my body to calm down from the fight-or-flight response.

One, two, in and out, again, deep breaths, Cat, you’re safe, no one is coming to hurt you.

My senses still run on overdrive, despite my attempts to reassure myself that I’m fine.

The city is dead quiet and still at this early predawn hour.

Nothing stirs but the racing of my heart, and the trepidation that fills all my limbs.

My eyes catch a glimpse of something reflected in my bedroom window.

The drapes I forgot to close last night, in my inebriated state, still parted, revealing the darkened sky beyond the planes of glass.

A single cherry red balloon, propped against the inside of my window.

No string attached, just hovering there like it had crawled out of a memory, and is waiting to devour me.

All my blood instantly rushes in my ears, drowning out all the other sounds.

A scream vacates my lips before I can stop it, as I jump off the bed and race toward the offending object.

My stomach drops, as my trembling fingers touch its latex surface. “What the ever-loving fuck?!”

I didn’t open the window last night. I didn’t have to.

Their message is clear, even from a distance, even while they’re incarcerated somewhere, they shouldn’t have access to the outside world.

They do, and they mean to scare me. To show me that I am never out of their reach, and any safety I think I have is nothing but an illusion.

The Carnevils know where you live now. They know how to get you. You will never be free again. You belong to them.

I decided to wear my white doctor’s coat today, the one I thought was overly pretentious, and a high-collared blouse, to hide the bruises left from my bra noose the night before.

I’ve pulled my hair back in the strictest knot I can manage, and steel my resolve.

Professional. Detached. Cold. Untouchable.

Pretend last night never happened, and you didn’t beg like a desperate slut.

Pretend you didn’t feel it, all of it, the webs they wove around you.

Pretend you never gave in and crawled for them, despite thinking that you never would.

Pretend they didn’t send you a threatening message, outside of Wellard’s high-security walls, and that you’re still safe.

The door opens, and Wren enters first, followed by Bash.

The atmosphere changes immediately, becoming charged with energy as their presence takes up space, forcing the very air to become thick and oppressive.

Predatory. Malevolent. Dangerous. I compel my hands to remain still, even though I want nothing more than to dig my fingernails into my palms, to reassure myself that I’m fine, that I can do this.

Bash’s gaze meets mine, and pins me to my chair like I’m something already claimed. He thinks I belong to him, and I need to show him that I don’t, that I’m in control, not him. That is if I want to survive... but perhaps that’s not the goal anymore?

Wren looks smug, jittery, and volatile, like a child who wants to ruin something beautiful, just to hear it shatter.

His gray-blue eyes wander around the room, bouncing off various items, scrutinizing them, before they fall on me like a ton of bricks, heavy and jagged, slicing me open in different directions, and forcing me to bleed out silently.

His lips move silently, having conversations with the voices that only he can hear.

You shouldn’t have come back, but here you are, Cat, once again hoping that the predators don’t consume you.

“Doctor,” Bash utters, his voice silk-wrapped steel.

“You look… composed ... perhaps a little tired, rough night?“ His voice is full of sarcastic humor, and I refuse to meet his glance. It irks me that I am being a coward even now, while the guards stand at the doorway, awaiting my nod to confine the madmen to their chairs. I clear my throat and nod to the guards, ignoring Bash’s taunt. They immediately force Bash and Wren to sit down in the uncomfortable metal chairs bolted to the floor, while they strap them tightly. See, they can’t do anything to you. You’re in control here.

“Let’s begin,” my voice sounds irritated and stern to my own ears, and it helps to settle some of my rampant anxiety. I watch, with a sense of doom filling my stomach, as the guards leave the room with a nod, and leave me alone with the twins.

“I didn’t get my turn,” Wren says suddenly, twitching like a live wire in the seat across from me.

“Not fair. Not fair at all.” I take in his flushed appearance; he’s working himself up, and once he loses the meager amount of control he has, this will all be over for the day.

I need to somehow extract the information I require from them.

Forget trying to help them cope, or rehabilitating them, behind the thick skeleton-filled walls of Wellard Asylum.

There’s no hope for these assholes. Yet, I can’t seem to stay away from them, even knowing that it’s a virtually unsalvageable task.

“You’ll behave,” I snap in Wren’s direction, more sharply than I intend. Breathe in, one, two, out, one, two.

Bash smiles a sanguine, toothy grin. “You’re tense today, little toy.

Anything troubling you?” Bash inquires, and I watch as he widens his legs, as far as the chains around his ankles will allow, and my glance is immediately drawn to the large bulge pressing up against the cheap material of his sweatpants.

Fuck, that was inside of me just yesterday, and I can still feel the ache today of its presence, every time I move.

“Doctor Vaughan.” I recross my legs, attempting to stave off some of the tingling that is happening in my core.

Both men watch with rapt attention, staring at my bare legs underneath my knee-length pencil skirt.

Why the fuck didn’t I wear pantyhose today?

I berate myself. You know why, stop lying, at least to yourself.

“Let’s keep this professional, shall we, gentlemen? ”

“I can be professional too,” Wren says, voice lilting like a nursery rhyme.

“Would you like a riddle to start, Doctor? Hmm?” He cocks his head in anticipation of me playing his stupid game.

“ I’m really good at them.“ I ignore him, or at least I try to, but his grin spreads too wide. He leans forward, the shackles rattling with his attempt to get closer to me. “What opens legs but isn’t a key, and likes it best when you beg, not plea? I’ll give you a hint, pretty porcelain doll, it rhymes with me . ”

“Wren!” I quickly jump to my feet, my pulse thundering in my ears, and heat rises up the back of my neck.

Bash’s voice cuts through the moment, low, measured, and in complete control.

“Sit down, Doctor.” I feel my body obey his command, and the seat under my ass, before I can utter a word.

Just like that, without a single syllable uttered in my own defense, I followed the madman’s instructions, my eyes riveted to his furious ones.

God fucking help me, I’ve lost all of my control and good sense.

You want this. You want control taken from you. It’s easier that way, isn’t it?

I clench my fists tightly in my lap, attempting to reject my thoughts. “I’m here to discuss progress, both of yours,” I state stiffly. “Not to entertain... whatever the hell is going on here...”

“Progress,” Bash interrupts, leaning forward with that same unbearable calm.

“You mean like what we started last night?” The corner of his lips quirks upward, but there’s no amusement present in his eyes.

Just a dark intensity, as if he can see right into my soul, and knows all the secrets that I hide there.

“I can still smell you on my skin, little toy.

I can feel your tight cunt strangling my cock.

“ My mouth goes completely dry, and I can feel my left eye beginning to twitch from the lingering headache, thanks to my overindulgence in wine last night, and this fucked up situation.

My lips open and close, and yet not a single word leaves them.

“Tell me something, Doctor,” he murmurs.

“Did you dream about her again? About Cecelia? Or did you dream about me ?”

Behind him, Wren begins to hum off-key, a slow, contemptuous sound that makes me immediately uneasy.

He rocks in his chair like a pendulum, his head slowly swinging side to side, and his eyes rolling back in his head.

What the fuck is he on? None of the drugs I’ve prescribed him should be doing that. “I don’t...”