I can’t blink, or move my eyes, so I can’t see the dead bodies, but I can smell them. The scent of death permeates all around me. I never expected an asylum to be pleasant, but this surpasses even my worst expectations.
Lining his cock up with my ass, he smirks at me.
“Be a good girl and don’t move,” he taunts, knowing full well, I can’t possibly move.
He slams inside me with no lubricant, completely dry, and the pain burns through me, like he’s fucking me with a burning torch. I can’t move, yet I can feel every thrust. Every touch. Even his heavy breaths against my skin. Moving his hips back, he painfully pushes forward again, and I try to scream but can’t. His grunts echo off the walls of the room as he comes. Knowing his semen will be inside me, long after he leaves me alone, is almost as bad as what he’s doing to me.
The momentary relief, when he pulls out of me, and removes the speculum, is short-lived, when he flashes me that disgusting smile that causes shivers to roll down my spine.
“I’ll admit, Bianca. I have a slight foot fetish. And I saved something for you. We have to be quick, because your medication may wear off soon.”
He moves through the dead bodies and comes back, holding the lower part of a severed leg. It has pink toenails, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what he’s planning to do next.
Holding the severed leg, he moves the toes over my clit, and again, I try to close my eyes but can’t. This man is sick. When he lines the toes up with my entrance, my bottom lip quivers, and I know the medication is wearing off. His gaze is between my legs, so luckily he doesn’t notice. I fight the bile rising in my throat as he pushes the foot inside me. More tears fall, but he’s too focused on watching the dead limb tear me apart to see anything else. Sensation begins to come back to my body, but I continue to pretend it hasn’t. It takes everything I have to remain quiet, instead of screaming about what a monster he is. He thrusts it so far inside me, it hits my cervix over and over again, and I can no longer take the pain. It’s too much. I know I’m supposed to stay alive, but I can’t. Everyone has a breaking point, and this is mine. I don’t know if it’s an adrenaline spike from the panic surging through me or if it’s a last release of energy before I meet death, but I pull my leg back and slam it forward, myfoot landing straight into his chest, knocking him onto his ass, and the dead limb lands behind him with a thud. I’m aware the consequences will be severe, but at this moment, it’s worth it. Nothing has ever felt better. I don’t want to be a victim. I want to be strong like Heather, and kill every man that has ever dared to fucking touch me when I saidno. If only Sullivan weren’t already dead.
He climbs to his feet, with an angry glare on his face that causes me to flinch, and move back as fast as I can with shaking limbs.
There’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped in this room with him, stuck like a caged animal, as he races to me, obvious fury in his expression.
Grabbing a syringe from his pocket, he holds it up for me to see.
“Maybe this time I should make sure you never wake up. Is that what you want? Are you really that fucking crazy?”
I shake my head frantically.
“No, please. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything you say.”
His stance relaxes, as his lips pull into a wicked smile that causes uneasiness to fill me all over again.
“Are you hungry?” He asks.
As much as I hate him, I’m suddenly grateful, because that’s probably the thing I need more than anything right now. Nourishment.
“Yes, I’m starving.”
It’s been somewhere around a week since I’ve eaten, and I would eat anything, even that weird breakfast mush.
I’m relieved when he grabs his pants from the floor and pulls them back on.
“I have dinner for you. Not that you deserve to eat after your stunt, but I’m in a giving mood.”
Dr. Martin walks past the hanging bodies that make me feel like I’m in a sick, twisted horror movie. He walks back to me with a plate in his hands. On top of it looks like some kind of bloody meat, and it’s repulsive, but I’m hungry. Off to the side is something else, but I can’t tell what it is.
I point to the other side of the plate.
“Is that chocolate pudding?”
The color is a lighter brown than I’ve seen it, resembling shit, but I’m so hungry that if he put something in it, I don’t even care. Although, if it’s actually human feces, I would probably change my mind about that.
He nods. “It is. You get your dessert after you eat your dinner.”
I look down at the chunk of meat as he sets it in front of me. I’m still naked. I didn’t bother asking if I could put clothes on, because I already know the answer. Even though the food looks gross, I’m starving, and I want to eat so badly.
My eyes go from the blood, and semen, coating my inner thighs, to the weird looking meat. It’s the size of a fist, even more bloody than my legs, and appears uncooked. Whatever this meat is, I’m clearly expected to eat it raw.
“What is it?”
He sits on the edge of the bed, with a slimy grin on his face that makes my rumbling stomach turn from hunger to disgust.
