Getting back onto the bed, I straddle his chest again, and trap his head between my thighs.
“Do you know why I do this, Doc?”
Shaking his head furiously, tears stream down his face, as he pleads for this to not happen.
“Don’t. Raven, we can get you better treatment, put you on a lower floor. Whatever you want.”
Slapping him on the face, I reach back for the case and grab the scalpel.
“We are past the negotiation stage, Doc. I don’t like being tied up. There was no reason for it. I didn’t struggle, and there wasn’t a single threat of violence, yet you drugged me and restrained me. You will serve as a lesson to the rest of the staff here.”
I take the scalpel, rest it against his hairline, not pressing it into his skin yet, and I smile.
“It’s too bad I don’t have my phone. I could play music for you. Do you know that song, ‘The First Cut is the Deepest’?”
He crinkles his nose, but is careful not to move his head, since the scalpel is touching his skin.
“That’s a love song, you idiot.”
I chuckle and say, “I just like the one line. It’s fitting.”
Whistling the tune of the song, I push the scalpel into his skin, and slowly I cut along his hairline, while gripping his head. I do prefer when I can have their head in a vise, but this will have to do. Doc screams as I pull his skin down, and wedge the scalpel underneath. I could have gagged him, but I didn’t want to. I want people to come running in here, and find him like this. I want them to see what’s being done to the fucker that decided he’dtryme. If I have to, I will kill every person in this building. Guaranteed, no one will ever restrain me, lock my fucking door, or turn off my lights again. Any animal pushed into a corner would fight back. This didn’t have to happen. He chose this.
My father taught me, when I was young, that showing weakness makes you a liability. Once you issue a threat, neverback down. It’s the reason why, if I say I’ll do something, I do it. I may have been the bastard child, never recognized, but my DNA runs deep. I am my father’s son.
SIX MONTHS LATER…
We have a television in the activity room. There are never a lot of people here, because a lot of them get drugged, restrained, or even put on starvation. I don’t know where they go when they aren’t allowed to eat. The story is when a person is ‘prescribed’ starvation, they’re taken to another part of the asylum that has cells like a prison. I’ve yet to find thatsection, but I will, eventually. Darren stands in front of the TV, yelling ‘fresh meat’ repeatedly, so I walk over to see what he’s going on about.
“Move,” I say to him so I can see the screen, and he instantly obeys. The patients know, as well as the medical staff, that I have a scalpel and I will use it. I’ve been in more than one fight since I’ve been here, because people piss me off, and I’m quick to act.
I stare at the woman on the news. She has long, dark hair hanging in soft curls. As the judge announces she’s coming to Wellard Asylum, she turns around and sobs loudly. Tears run down her ivory cheeks. Her deep brown eyes are wide with panic, as she stares in the direction of the camera, seeming to look right at me.
Fuck.
I watch as her chest expands with heavy breaths, as the deputies grab her arms and escort her out of the courtroom.
The ticker tape at the bottom of the screen reads, “Lunatic has been sent to Wellard Asylum.”
Glancing up at the blonde reporter, I listen as she tells her viewers, “Fitting, isn’t it? At least now she’ll be locked away, where she can’t hurt anyone else.”
Footsteps sound behind me. I peer over my shoulder and find Dr. Death glaring at me. That’s the nickname I gave him, because he takes far more lives than he saves. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s saved any.
He comes up to me and says, “She’s mine.”
Turning to him, I ask, “You know her?”
With a grin that would turn most stomachs, he says, “I’m her doctor.”
Dr. Alexsander Martin runs his fingers through his short beard, staring at me with a gaze that warns this girl will be no different from the others. I’ve been here for a little over six months, and I’ve seen many women enter his office, never tobe seen again. Sometimes they last days or weeks, but often it’s mere hours. The doctors in this place are as fucked up as the patients, maybe even more so.
“She’s pretty,” I admit, and he shakes his head in disagreement.
“Bianca is fucking gorgeous.”
I shrug my shoulders, like she’s justokay, but he’s right. Even through a TV screen, she was beautiful.
“When she walked into my office two years ago, I vowed that she’d be mine. It took some pulling of strings, but finally she’s going to be trapped here for me to do as I please, with no interference. Her husband beat the shit out of her, but now it’s my turn.”
