Page 13 of No Asylum Here

It wouldn’t be long before he regenerated.

My shock therapy would be more painful than ever now. I didn’t care. There was only one thing on my mind.

Stooping, I dipped my fingers into the orderly’s blood and began to paint the image of Tuesday’s likeness on my wall.

If I couldn’t see her in my sleep, I’d stare at her painting on my cell wall.

I found the human side of me, hoping this was the closest I’d ever come, for her sake. As much as I wanted to protect her from the demons, it wouldn’t be possible.

Not when I was the worst among them.

Chapter Six

Tuesday

The next morning, a firm knock at the door startled me awake. I opened it to find Nurse Beatrice greeting me with a sour smile. “It’s already 8 a.m., Dr. Beckett. You’re sleeping the day away.”

She made it evident by her expression that she didn’t approve of the fact that I had clearly just woken up. “We’re early risers here at Saint Bartholomew’s.”

“Sorry, must have slept through my alarm,” I lied. I hadn’t set one.

My head was fuzzier than yesterday. Still, it was better than seeing the ghost of Lauren Hawkins, whom I hadn’t seen since that first dream of Patient Seventeen.

“Dress and meet me in the nurses’ commons upstairs. You’ll find it down the first hallway to the right of the stairwell.”

Half an hour later, I found a group of nurses, all in the same uniform: white dresses with stockings and a paper cap.

All of them turned in unison to watch me as I approached. I couldn’t parse the vibe, but whatever it was, it was awkward as hell.

I smiled and waved.

They barely moved, staring like zombies.

“Looks like we might need to make the coffee around here a bit stronger, am I right?” I chuckled awkwardly, having dumped fuel onto the awkwardness. It wouldn’t be the first time a nursing department hadn’t taken a shine to me. I was young, and some of them had had their nursing licenses longer than I’d been alive. Or maybe they just hadn’t had their coffee yet. Who could have guessed that Beatrice was the lively one?

“How did you sleep, Dr. Beckett?” the head nurse asked, not appearing interested in my answer in the least.

“Restless. I’ve been having a lot of weird nightmares lately. And there was a lot of screaming last night.”

Beatrice’s expression tightened. “Well, this is a psychiatric hospital, Doctor. You’re not the only one here with night terrors. Besides, the walls here are old and thin.”

I frowned but said nothing. This wasn’t my first rodeo working with mentally ill patients. Still, the screams last night were chilling. Like someone was being tortured.

“Dr. Rook is waiting for you. I’ll show you to his office. He’ll take over your tour from there.”

I followed her to the facility director’s office, finding the door open. He was standing behind his desk, flipping through a black folder with a furious scowl on his face, scribbling something in the file.

That look he wore. Pure hatred. There was no other way of explaining it.

Beatrice knocked on the open door, pulling his attention to us. He quickly turned and stuffed the folder into the first drawer of a wooden filing cabinet filled with other folders.

Rook’s cadence shifted in an instant, a cheery smile turning him into a different man than the one I’d seen seconds ago. The stark difference had a chill skipping down my spine.

"Ah, good morning, Dr. Beckett.” He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I hope I’m not too late.”

Once I sat down, he took a seat opposing me. "Nonsense, you got here right when you were meant to. You may leave us, Nurse. Thank you. Oh, and close the door.”