I glance down at my plate, wondering what the extras are she’s talking about. None of it looks appetizing, other than the chocolate pudding and apple sauce. The ham looks dried out, like it’s been sitting for days. And the mush, I’m not even sure what it is, but it has burnt eggs in it.
Heather shrugs her shoulders. “The ham isn’t as bad as it looks. Try it. You need the protein. One of the big punishments here is lock up. They lock you in your room, and you don’t get meals. It’s important you stay well fed for when that happens. It will eventually.”
I take a bite of the ham and chew slowly. She’s right, it’s not terrible, but it is a little on the chewy side.
“I have a question.”
Heather nods slowly, as if she expected as much.
“Is there someone that can actually help? My doctor raped me, and,” I swallow hard, “Raven, too. I’m afraid they’re going to kill me.”
She pushes her blonde hair behind her shoulders, as she finishes the food in her mouth. Her blue eyes focus on me as she flashes me a sad expression.
“You’ll get used to it. There is no one to help you, Bianca. Screaming rape here will do you no good. Your doctor is a bad man. His female patients tend to disappear after a few weeks. There are rumors, but none of us really know what happens to them. The men get different treatment. He sends them to the basement with Dr. Halstead. Jimmy,” she nods to a man across the room, sitting like he’s in a world of his own, “he had a lobotomy. His behavior is no longer a problem. He’s a walking zombie.”
“A lobotomy?” I gasp, “they haven’t done those for a long time.”
Heather laughs, but there’s no humor behind it.
“Procedures long thought inhumane and ineffective are routine here. If you want to live long enough to get out, just do what they want.”
Raising an eyebrow, I say, “You said no one leaves.”
With a grin, she says, “One day, if I have to do it myself, this fucking place will burn to the ground.”
“You don’t seem insane. Why are you here?”
“Religious trauma,” she says, as if it’s no big deal.
We both eat our pudding in silence, when I spot Raven sitting two tables over, eating his with his eyes on me, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Have you ever heard of the ‘Servants of Christ’ group?”
I nod, focusing on her, doing my best to ignore the eyes penetrating me nearly to my soul.
“I saw something about them a few years ago on the news.”
She takes a sip of her water, before setting it beside her tray.
“It’s a cult, and I was born into it. After I escaped, I went on a killing spree, and ended up here. I’m not really insane. I’m just pissed.”
I won’t ask what they did to her, much like she hasn’t asked what Sullivan did to me. If she chooses to tell me on her own, I’ll listen, but I won’t pry. One thing is clear. We are both victims. I didn’t kill my husband, but I wish I had. At least then there’d be a reason for me to be here.
Out of my peripheral vision, I spot Raven licking at his spoon while he eats his pudding. I hate that I’m attracted to him.
It was still rape, Bianca. You said no. You begged him to stop.
I’m relieved when he rises from his seat and leaves.
“Listen to me,” Heather says with a serious expression.
I stare at her while my heart pounds in my chest from the look on her face.
“Dr. Martin,” she starts, and pauses as she looks around, to make sure she isn’t overheard by anyone else. Placing her hands on the table, she leans her head in and continues, “Be careful, Bianca. He’s dangerous. Like I said, I’ve seen him take so many girls for therapy, and not long after, they disappear. I’m certain he is killing them.”
I sigh audibly before nodding.
“He is,” I confirm, “Raven told me.”
