Page 8 of Lunatic
“I bet you regret throwing my fucking food away. Now you’ll be rat food. Enjoy.”
I wash my hands in the filthy bathroom down here, and make my way back to the main hall with one thing on my mind. It’sunlikely the little lunatic has gotten herself into trouble yet, so I’m betting she’ll be eating lunch. I can get into her room at any time, because I have a set of keys to everything here, but I want to approach her initially in what would be perceived as normal.
She’s far more likely to give me the information I want, if I appear non-threatening. Once I have it, she’ll see a personality switch that will knock her off kilter, and provide more fun for me.
I approach her table, and wave my hand at crazy Heather, who sits across from her, having a one sided conversation.
“Go.”
She jumps out of her seat and tilts her head back, glaring at me. Placing her hands on her hips, she says, “You don’t have to be so rude, Raven. And don’t bother threatening me. Fucking asshole.”
After she storms off, I take her vacated seat, with my eyes on Bianca. Fuck. The mugshot didn’t do her justice because, in front of me now, she’s more gorgeous than she was on the television. Even with the dried tears, and the puffy redness throughout her face. While I still think Dr. Death is an asshole, for doing what he did to get her here, I kind of understand. I’m no better than he is, in fact, I’m probably worse. I’d never drug her, not because it’s wrong, but because I want to feel her fight, while she’s wrapped around my cock. I don’t need her consent. I want her fucking screams.
Bianca sits still as stone, her gaze on the plate of food she hasn’t touched. I’m not sure if she realizes Heather is gone, and that I’ve taken her seat. There are patients scattered around the room, eating and chattering away, but I don’t hear anything as I focus on her.
I say her name, and she ignores me, so I say it again with a growl.
“Bianca.”
Her eyes lift to mine, and her hands tremble as recognition shows on her face, until her plastic spoon falls out of her hand, hitting the floor.
“You-” she gasps, and I can’t help the way I chuckle at her surprise. I knew she saw me watching her.
Bianca’s eyes dart all around her, as if she’s making sure no one else is listening to us.
“Can you help me? My doctor raped me.”
Her eyes are teary, but her expression is hopeful. It almost makes me wish I were the hero of her story, but I’m not. I’m as much of a villain as Alexsander is. She’ll learn that soon enough, so I don’t bother explaining that to her now.
“Nobody can help you, little Lunatic. The good news is you’ll get used to it.”
Her gaze widens as it snaps to the doorway. I turn around to see what she’s looking at, and spot the current man of her nightmares coming through the door, heading straight toward us.
“It’s time for therapy, Bianca,” he says while glaring down at her like she’s dog shit covering the bottom of his shoe.
She rises from her chair hesitantly as she breathes out a shaky sigh. He glances at me with a sinister grin.
“Come on, Raven, you can assist.”
My plan was to get information from her, but I know that won’t happen now. His idea of therapy excites me, but she’ll hate me as much as she does him by the time we finish.
How is he supposed to assist the doctor? Isn’t Raven a patient here? I’m confused, but it doesn’t matter. If my time here has taught me anything, it’s that I’m an unwilling participant, but a participant all the same, because I have no choice.
I hang my head down, and follow my doctor of two years, as Raven follows closely behind me. My heart pounds in my chest as I think of all the things I might be walking into. The cement walls are filthy, the floor I’m staring at is even more so,but it’s the smell that makes bile rise in my throat. It smells like a mixture of death, and raw meat left out for far too long. Don’t hospitals have to go through certifications, and meet some kind of standard? I’ve always associated a medical facility with bleach, and extreme cleanliness. This one is anything but. I’m not sure who cleans Wellard Asylum, but they are doing a horrific job.
We walk into a room, and I stop and gasp, as Dr. Martin says, “Welcome to my office.”
This looks nothing like the office I’ve been to, and I know immediately this is some kind of torture room. There are ropes in multiple places, hanging from the ceiling. A tub with long porcelain legs is high up, almost at shoulder height, with a black seat in front of it, chained to the ceiling. I swallow hard when realization hits me.It’s a sex swing.There’s no desk in this room, like you’d expect from a psychiatrist. I spot the couch off to the side, as well as two matching dark blue chairs. Beside them sits a tall black storage cabinet. I have no idea what’s in there, and I’m not sure I want to know.
“Have a seat, Bianca.”
Dread fills me, but I do as the doctor says, and immediately regret my choice of furniture, when Raven takes a spot beside me on the couch.
“I’m an old school doctor. It was once widely believed that the way to cure hysteria in women was by forced orgasms. Most of the medical community has lost their way, but I believe it still holds value. Raven does not agree with you being drugged, so we’ll try it his way first. Take your clothes off, and stand in front of the tub. If you fight your therapy, it’s going to be so much worse. You are a murderer, and I guarantee you, we will get to the root of your problem.”
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, and clenching my fists, I try to get a breath, but I can’t.
“Now,” Dr. Martin yells, and I jump, as I pop my eyes open to find him staring at me with a menacing expression. My breaths continue to come out quick and shallow, as I get up and begin taking my hospital clothes off. They are light blue and almost like scrubs, but seem more like a prison uniform. I would much rather be stuck behind bars than to be going through this. Prison would be nothing compared to what happens here.
