Page 35 of Lethal (Wellard Asylum #1)

I t feels like the walls are closing in, and the room seems to shrink smaller and smaller by the minute.

The air is wrong, insufferably thick, yet still carrying a deadly chill.

It’s too quiet, and it makes me miss the sounds of the patients above us in the other levels of the asylum, screaming in agony.

There are no footsteps, no card reader beeping, no scent of fear, guilt, or silk-clad skin.

She’s late, s he’s never late. She knows the consequences of disappointing us.

Wren hums softly in the corner, head tilted back, rocking slightly on the dusty floor, his eyes glazed with a kind of unholy madness that should frighten me, yet doesn’t.

I don’t know which of his voices has control of him at the moment, but regardless, it’s never good when he’s in this state.

A part of me wants to lock him in this room, and disappear with my little toy, so I can have her all to myself, and keep her safe from him.

But I know the truth: I never will, and she wouldn’t be any safer alone with me.

The Carnevil twins are a pair, and one cannot be present without the other.

“Doctor Birdie flew the coop, and left her twins without their soup. Naughty bird with a bloody beak, we’ll clip her wings, then make her squeak...”

“Stop it,” I snap, my agitation rising, and the desire to slam his head into the wall almost overriding my meager control.

He doesn’t, of course, the psycho prick.

He only hums louder, his grin wide and glassy.

He’s antsy, with too much energy, and he’s purposely picking a fight with me, hoping that we’ll erupt into violence, just like when we were kids, and the unknown and fear plagued us.

I know that he feels jealousy toward the doctor.

He fears that she will come between us, and if I’m honest, I fear it too.

I stand, pacing the abandoned treatment room in tight, measured strides.

Twelve steps, turn. Twelve steps back. I’ve counted them so many times that the walls breathe with the rhythm.

Fuck, where is she? She said she chose us.

She looked me in the eye and bled for us.

She left that room wrapped in my arms, and coated in our marks.

She wouldn’t have changed her mind. She couldn’t have lied straight to my face, could she?

“Pretty puppet’s gone to dance, in Halstead’s house without a single chance…”

“Wren!” I growl, feeling my eye beginning to twitch. He stops singing as his head snaps toward me, eyes wide, breath catching in his throat, like a child caught mid-theft.

“She’s not coming,” he whispers, a tremble in his tone now. “She changed her mind, brother. She remembered what we are when she woke up, because you let her go. Monsters, Bash, she knows we’re monsters. She hates us, she hates me. She only wants you!”

“No,” I reply, sharper than I mean to. “No, she didn’t.

She’s one of us now, and she doesn’t hate you.

” The words leave my lips to reassure my brother, but in the pit of my stomach, a boulder is sinking.

She’s mine. She belongs to me. She can’t hide from me.

I will always find her. Her mind is a playground, and I refuse to lose our games.

Wren shrinks a little but keeps watching me, still swaying and clutching the edge of his shirt, like he used to do when he was a frightened child, as if he’s trying to climb inside his own skin, and hide from the real monsters that used to hurt us.

“She let us cut her, Bash,” he murmurs in a meek voice. “She liked it, didn’t she?”

“She didn’t run,” I reply, quieter now, trying to reassure myself as much as him. “If she was going to, she would’ve done it before we carved our names in blood.”

“She promised ,“ Wren growls, suddenly standing. His voice rising, pitchy, and filled with danger. “She said no more lies, Bash. You heard her, didn’t you, brother! We should have killed the pretty broken doll, and then she would be ours forever! Just like all the others, we should have taken her apart, and fed, so she would always be inside of us.“ We’re both breathing too fast now, our emotions clogging up the room. The silence and nothingness in the hall press against the door like a weight suffocating me. I reach up and rake my fingers through my hair, tugging hard at the roots. I want the pain, I need it, something to prove I’m still here, still present in this plane, and not an apparition. Something’s wrong; she’s not just late or scared, she’s not just having doubts about us, she’s gone.

“Halstead,” I whisper, and Wren freezes, turning slowly to stare at me with a deadly expression taking over his features.

All the pieces begin to fall into place.

“He’s never liked her asking questions. He’s been watching her all along, like a spider waiting for her to fall into his web.

He likes his games. They bring him satisfaction. ”

“He told the big ones not to talk when she walks by, not to show her the truth,” Wren declares, eyes darting around the room as if the walls have ears. “He hides the rotten ones down deep, like bodies in the floorboards. No one ever finds them, they’re just gone.”

“He knows she’s getting close, the ending is at hand, she’ll find out all the secrets.

” I sit down hard on the edge of the treatment chair, my heart pounding against my ribs, like it’s trying to beat its way out.

He has her. He’s taken what’s mine, my toy, my possession, my doctor.

“She didn’t leave us,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “She was taken. ”

“Doctor Birdie lost her song, but don’t you worry, it won’t be long.

We’ll find the cage, we’ll break the lock, and paint the walls in Halstead’s chalk .

..“ Wren is smiling now, his teeth sharp and strange in the low light. He kicks the door hard, causing it to slam against the wall, and the handle embeds itself in the plasterboard, and for once, I don’t stop him.

The rage building in my chest feels good.

It feels righteous. She is ours, a nd Halstead doesn’t get to touch what belongs to us, not anymore.

I walk out of the door and into the darkened corridor, the one forgotten by time, and only remembered by the ghosts that inhabit this place.

“Are we going to get my broken dolly back, Bash?” Wren’s childlike voice echoes behind me.

“Yes, brother, we’re retrieving what belongs to us, and while we are at it, we will do some redecorating of Wellard Asylum.”

Wren’s hands clap loudly from behind me, while I watch the darkened corners for menacing shadows, ready to stop our pursuit of our doctor.

I wouldn’t put anything past Halstead. He has to know that once we realize he has her, we will come for her.

We can’t just abandon her. She would never forgive us.

“We’ll paint the walls in my favorite color, Bash.

Red! Beautiful, shiny red. The whole place will look brand new, brother! ”

I stop short, and Wren bumps into my back.

I grab his arm and pull him close, until I can whisper in his ear.

“The shadows move, brother, we’re no longer alone.

They’ve discovered that we’re still here.

” To Wren’s credit, he doesn’t show any reaction.

He just smiles widely, and his hand pulls a makeshift blade out of the waistband of his pants.

I follow suit, and both of us prepare ourselves to be attacked.

I am right; Halstead has been a naughty boy, thinking he can take what’s ours, and silence us for good.

He’s forgotten there are bigger monsters in this place than he is, and I mean to remind him.

“Now, Wren, paint the walls, brother!” I charge into a darkened corner, my blade raised, and strike out at the creature hiding in its depths. I hear Wren’s angry snarls right behind me, followed by a high-pitched scream.

“My dolly, you stole her, and now I have to cut off your hands!”

We’re coming, little toy, just hold on.