More tears fall, and her bottom lip quivers. If I were a decent human being, I might feel bad, but I don’t.
“In the cells. Dr. Martin put her there.”
I’ve heard of the cells, but I’ve never seen them. It’s where starvation occurs, and they rarely come out again. Rumor is, the cells mean death is imminent. The thought of Bianca starving to death makes me physically ill. I’ve been obsessed with her since I saw her on the news, but the last time I fucked her solidified it. If he hurt her, I’ll take it as a personal attack. And I already know he has.
“Where are they?”
Amy trembles under me and admits, “I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen them. I don’t think they’re on this floor. Dr. Martin only allows c-certain nurses to go in the cells. I’m n-not one of them,” she stammers as more tears slip down her cheeks.
Unfortunately for her, she’ll die for no reason, but then it would’ve happened anyway, because I have no intention of leaving any staff member of Wellard Asylum alive. I will kill my way out, with Bianca in tow. Dr. Death will pay fucking dearly for everything he has done to her, to us both. My pretty little lunatic is going to see, with her own eyes, that I am as bad as she thinks I am.
I jab my shank into her throat, and watch as the blood squirts all over me. While this isn’t normally how I kill someone, I’m satisfied with it. I don’t have the time I normally take. I need to find Bianca, and I’ll be leaving a path of bodies in the process.Once I locate her, I plan to get out of here quickly. Although, I will take a little more time with Alexsander. That fucker will suffer.
I get up off of Amy and grab her keys. Walking over to the door, I unlock it and let myself out, while whistling to myself. Making my way through the hallway, I keep my eye out for the staff, but don’t spot any, which is odd.
Stopping at Heather’s room, I put the key in the door and open it. I tilt my head in curiosity when I notice her state. She’s in a fucking straight jacket, and chanting to herself, as she rocks back and forth.
“Jesus rewards those who obey. I will be obedient to my husband, or I will suffer the wrath of God.”
“Heather,” I say, trying to snap her out of it, and it works, as she glances up at me with an ashamed expression on her face.
I pocket my shank, walk over to her, and quickly work to get her out of the fucking straight jacket.
“Who did this?”
“Dr. Martin did. I asked questions about Bianca. I’ve been locked in here since then,” Heather says, with a defeated expression on her face that makes me almost feel bad for her.
After I free her, she stretches her arms, which I’m sure hurt, if she’s been like this for days.
“Where are the cells?”
She winces as she shrugs her shoulders.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard that you need to go into the tunnels to access them, but nobody knows for sure, Raven. If you go to a cell, you will never come out alive, so I think it’s mostly speculation.”
“I’m going to find Bianca, and then her and I are leaving this fucking shit hole.”
Heather grabs my arm, and begs me, “Please help me get out. Don’t leave me here.”
I’m not the guy that saves people. I run a hand through my hair before squeezing the back of my neck. Really, I’d prefer to leave her here. I don’t want extra baggage. Getting out of here with one woman will be enough. She doesn’t mean a thing to me, but somehow I know Bianca would want me to help crazy Heather.
“Alright. You stay out of my way. If you fuck with what I’m doing, you’re on your own.”
I move to the door, and she follows me closely with a promise.
“I won’t interfere unless you try to hurt Bianca. If you do, I’ll be your worst nightmare.”
As I open the door, I grin, because I kind of like that she’d protect my little lunatic. She’d die trying, but I don’t tell her that. I’ll let her live in her fantasy.
I approach every staff member I find, and stab them in the throat, just like I did Amy. I’m a little sad I don’t have the time to skin them all alive. I would, but Bianca might pay the price for that choice, and I won’t allow that. My skin tingles with the fucking need to touch her. And kill the asshole that has no doubt hurt her repeatedly. If she’s dead, I’ll skin him, and sew him up. Then I’ll begin again. Rinse and repeat. Slowly torturing him, over and over again.
“Where the fuck are the cells, Sheila?” I growl through a clenched jaw.
I hold her down over the counter of the nurse’s station, with one hand around her throat, and the other holding my now bloody shank in a threatening position just over her face.
“I don’t know,” she whimpers.
“Other than Dr. Martin, Dr. Halstead is the only one who knows, and he is not here today.”
