Page 39 of Lethal (Wellard Asylum #1)

M y head swims, and colors dim before my eyes.

I want to disbelieve what Halstead is telling me, but something within me breaks, shattering a shadow that has been protecting my mind.

As it breaks apart, rapid images fly in front of my eyes, the first one has bile racing up the back of my throat, and I gag over and over again.

Before me, Cecelia sits primly in a leather chair in an empty therapy office.

I take note that the bookcases, and all the walls surrounding her, are devoid of any possessions.

My eyes search the space and land on the large, empty wooden desk behind her, which sits with a thick layer of dust, discarded and forgotten.

I force my eyes back to Cecelia, noticing that she has an old, torn bedsheet wrapped around her bare legs, fashioned into a distorted skirt, as she sits prim and proper with her legs crossed.

The bones protruding in her collarbone fill me with despair at how thin she’s gotten.

In her lap is a weathered, leather-bound book, and she’s intently scribbling away, as she stares at the two empty metal chairs before her.

I turn my gaze in that direction, and my glance runs over the rust, and old, dried blood stains, on the metal frame of the patient chairs bolted to the floor.

I watch, bewildered, as Cecelia’s lips move, while she concentrates deeply on her task, and her words have a shiver racing down my spine.

“Are you worried, Sebastian, that I’m not qualified to treat you?

I graduated from an Ivy League medical school. ”

No response comes from the empty seats, and I stare at her stern expression with horror ravaging me.

In my mind, I picture the images of the twins filling those barren seats, and I choke on a whimper.

The words she uttered, I know for a fact, were the same ones I said.

How can that be? I move closer, afraid to startle her, but she doesn’t halt in her task.

I lean forward over her shoulder, and stare down at what she’s writing.

The paper is filled with scribbled words, but line after line is nothing but the same four words.

She turns her blonde head toward me, and her eyes meet mine. “None of this is real, we need to wake up now. The monsters are coming, CeCe.”

The scene rapidly switches, and I feel my stomach lurch with its velocity, my head spinning, as if I’m on a roller coaster ride that I can’t get off.

I force my shuttered eyes to reopen, and I’m immediately confronted with a white, padded room.

My heart beats ferociously inside my ears, the sound threatening to drown me.

I know this room, I remember what happened here.

No, I don’t want to relive that again. This is too much.

I... I can’t survive it a second time. Perhaps Halstead is correct, and I’m weak.

“Please, no... I don’t want to see this,” I whimper, but no one answers me.

The door opens, its hinges creaking menacingly, and the image of the emaciated Cecelia walks through, wearing an old, tattered, and stained doctor’s coat.

I watch mesmerized as her head turns back and forth as if searching for something, no, someone.

Her stare meets mine, and her ragged, chapped lips rise into a pitiful, distressing smile.

“They’re coming, CeCe. They love us, they want us. I am theirs, I belong to them.”

“NO! RUN! Please run now, don’t let the door close!

” I scream, but she turns away from me, humming a tune under her breath that I’m almost positive is the one Wren always sings.

The door closes with a bang, and she almost seems shocked, as if for a moment it wakes her from whatever daze she’s in, I’m in, if Halstead is to be believed.

The padded wall shifts across the room, and I panic, knowing what’s coming next.

I throw myself in front of her, trying to protect her, us, but it’s no use, it’s as if I’m made of nothing but shadows.

I watch as the orderly enters the room, a menacing, lecherous grin across his face.

“Miss Vaughan, you shouldn’t be down here alone,” he drawls.

I stand there, furious and filled with unbridled rage, as I stare at the man before me, the one I know means me harm.

“Who are you? Don’t come any closer, I’ll scream.

” My lips move of their own volition, and I take a risk to look behind me, but Cecelia is gone, and I’m in her place.

I can see my ragged blonde hair tumbling over my thin arms, camouflaged by the doctor’s coat, and my bare knees tremble as I force my body to remain standing.

A psychotic-sounding laugh echoes around the room, loud and ominous.

“That’s the point,” he growls as he lunges toward me, and knocks me into the wall.

“You can’t run from me.” Smack. “You can’t pretend you’re better than me down here.

No one’s watching you now.” He uses his brute force to rip open my doctor’s jacket, as he keeps me dangling in mid-air, and my body struggles for oxygen.

“We’re going to have some real fun, slut.

I hope you don’t mind it rough.” My fingernails find his face and tear through his flesh, as I croak, “ Please. Come now. Come now, come now, please!”

My agonizing words must shock him, because he loosens his hold enough that I can push him away, and he stumbles backward, tripping over his own large feet.

I fall to my hands and knees, gasping for air as I rub at my throat.

The secret padded door remains ajar, tempting me with escape, but as I try to head in that direction, he crouches, getting ready to attack me.

A maniacal laugh leaves my lips, and I charge at him instead of attempting to escape, kicking and punching.

I slam my head into his, and he falls backward, groaning and clutching at his scalp.

My voice bounces around the padded walls, “He touched her,” I snarl, completely unhinged.

“He touched her, my porcelain doll! MINE!” My arms move, and I throw a punch at the man’s face, before grasping onto his thick neck and squeezing.

“What has five fingers and a death wish? HIM!” I dart my head forward and bite down on his ear, the taste of his flesh repulsing me as he screams, and I continue tearing at his skin, over and over, until a piece rips off.

I spit out the offending contents, and the walls before me smear with red.

“He touched her, Bash! He bruised her! He wanted her to bleed... her blood belongs to me, to us!” I scream.

No! This didn’t happen like that; the twins were there. They saved me from the orderly. It was Wren who bit him, not me, and those words were all uttered by them. What the hell is happening here? Am I losing my sanity?

“You killed one of my men, Cecelia, do you remember that now? Perhaps I should refresh your memory further, since we are lucky that the cameras were still working in that part of the asylum, to capture all your sins.” Halstead’s voice rips me out of the deranged memory, and my eyes meet his.

I’m no longer sure if I’m seeing him, or a monster before me.

I’m unsure what is true and what isn’t. The world has flipped on its axis, and I don’t know if I have lost my mind.

Am I who he says I am, or is this a delusion fueled by some fucked drug he’s given me?

Please, Bash and Wren, come save me from this monster. I can’t hold on for much longer. I feel my mind slipping.

A tablet appears in Halstead’s hand, and I’m uncertain if he even moved.

All my senses are dulled, and overwhelmed, I’m losing time, and I feel like I might pass out at any moment.

“Your attention for a moment, Miss Vaughan. It is quite a show that you put on. I really didn’t believe that you had it in you, despite hearing how you tortured, mutilated, and hung your brother from the rafters of your parents’ garage.

” He nods his head, and the asshole behind me forces my head straight once again, as a video starts to play on the tablet, the sound loud and clear of me screaming hysterically in glee.

“Hurt him. Flay him. Cut out his teeth and sew them into his eyes. Rip out his heart and make him cry!” I watch with disbelief as the video version of what Halstead claims is me, angrily grabs the man’s hair, and slams his head again and again into the dirty floor, as I straddle his body, using all my strength to subdue him.

My fingers rise to my face, covered in the orderly’s blood, and I caress my own skin.

“You’re safe now. He can’t touch you again,” my shaken voice utters.

My gaze on the video stares off into space, meeting only the padded walls. “You already punished him,” my voice trembles as the words leave my ravaged lips, and rise into a blood-tinged smirk. “But he’s still breathing.”

My hand on the video makes its way into the pocket of the jacket, and utter fear overcomes me, forcing me to lose control of my bladder, as I moan, attempting to thrash and release myself from Halstead’s man. “Please, please don’t make me watch this!” I beg, but Halstead just laughs.

Henry leans close to my ear, his warm breath sliding over my chilled skin, as his raspy smoker’s voice attacks my senses. “But it’s just getting good now, watch, you psycho.”

My eyes turn back to the screen, even though I remember clearly what happens next.

The man lies bleeding and groaning on the floor, and my small hand rises with a metal shiv tightly grasped in my fingers.

“Don’t lie, pretty doctor. We smell it on you.

That little monster inside your ribs. The one that’s begging to escape and feast with us. ”