Reid took out his pocket notebook and scribbled an entry, outlining the patient’s progress.
Not that there was much to report.
He was cold.
Brian had never been a violent patient, and his mental capacity was something that, Reid felt, was just part of who he was now. Perhaps it was due to difficulties in the womb, or a problem at birth that had affected his brain development, but it was nothing that Reid thought could be fixed. Still, Reid was not pursuing this line of treatment to see an improvement in the patient—he was more interested in knowing just how much Brian could bear, and if his tolerance differed from patients with other afflictions. Did his docile state mean he would willingly accept more punishment—even holding out until it killed him—rather than complain or fight back?
‘Keep him in for another twenty minutes,’ Reid said to the orderlies. ‘Then get him out and return him to his cell.’
Reid left the room and continued to the next.
Today was the day Reid was supposed to be trying his second-ever transorbital lobotomy, but last night’s events, coupled with his lack of sleep and the non-productive talk with Director Templeton this morning, had meant he was not in the right frame of mind for something so important. So, he had postponed it.
Not that it mattered.
The patient wasn’t aware of what was coming, so Reid didn’t need to rearrange much.
His next stop on Ward A was to see Patrick Evans, a man who had to be kept in a restrictive jacket due to his insistence that his entire body was crawling with maggots and other insects. The state of his skin from scratching in an attempt to free himself of the imaginary bugs was disgusting: angry, red scars and cuts dominated his flesh. An earlier treatment Reid had sanctioned was to actually cover the man in bugs to see what he would do. The results were explosive, and he hit levels of frantic panic that Reid had rarely seen before. Since then, Patrick’s default state of constant agitation was much higher than before that experiment. All in all, a rather pointless exercise.
Now Reid was trying a different method—a treatment that had, at best, mixed results. Again, Reid held out little hope of any success, but wanted to see it for himself.
He walked into the small dark room, hearing the screams of pain before he entered. A single light overhead shone down onto the bald, writhing man who was strapped into a high-backed wooden chair. Wires were connected to his naked, malnourished body, and they ran to a trolley-mounted control box to his side that an orderly was operating. With each twist of a knob on the panel, jolts of electricity were sent coursing into Patrick’s body. He shook violently as another shock was administered, and Reid could see the veins in the man’s scarred neck bulge out through the skin.
‘Please,’ Patrick begged, barely managing to strain the word out as his body locked up again.
This electroshock therapy had been administered intermittently on him for over an hour. Reid again brought out his notebook and jotted down what he saw. The real results would come after the treatment, however, and Reid had poor Patrick scheduled for two weeks of this, in three hour stints every other day. If he survived, perhaps he would be a changed man and be free of those bugs forever.
Reid stayed with the man for a little while longer, watching his treatment and suffering with interest, but even so it was a struggle to keep his mind focused today. There was a constant, dull ache behind his eyes, and a terrible headache was brewing that he knew would, in time, turn a bad day worse.
The men under his charge, the orderlies who worked and lived at Arlington Asylum, seemed off today. Or some of them did. And he recognised that it was the ones that had been present for the previous night’s events with that… thing who were not quite themselves.
The only one who seemed business-as-usual was Jones, and to see him work, one would never imagine he had been through such an ordeal as Reid had witnessed.
After confirming that the electroshock therapy was progressing well, Reid left that room as well, then turned to head to the next. Up ahead was a small cupboard used to house cleaning equipment and some old medical tools that were rarely ever used. Upon his approach to this cupboard, Reid noticed that the inward-swinging door was ajar, and he could hear voices within talking in hushed whispers.
Ordinarily, Reid would have no interest in the idle chit-chat of others. He didn’t care enough about their problems to make it his business, but right now things were different. Reid slowed his walking so that his steps were as silent as he could make them, inched close to the side of the door without revealing himself, and listened. He heard the voices of two people inside—orderlies, he assumed. And, from the sound of it, both had been present during the fantastical and gruesome events of the previous night.
‘I tell you,’ one said, ‘they aren’t in our control anymore.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ the other argued—his was a much deeper voice. ‘This is why we are here.’
‘To be killed?’
‘If that is what is needed, then yes.’
‘Your life means that little to you?’ the first man argued.
‘You know why we are here, and what we pledged ourselves to,’ the second replied. ‘Am I to take it that you are doubting your promise and your beliefs?’
‘It’s not that,’ the first said. ‘It’s just-’
‘It’s just nothing,’ the second man cut in. ‘We all serve The Church, and therefore the director, too, while we are here. If you give me cause to doubt your devotion, then I will have to take this higher.’
‘No, there is no need for that. It’s just… last night I was terrified. Weren’t you?’
‘A little,’ the second man admitted. ‘But more so, I was excited.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t you get it? What we saw last night, and the other things we have seen here, it is all proof. Proof that validates everything we believe in. How can we doubt The Church now?’
‘I… I guess,’ the first man said.
‘Keep your faith, brother, and all will be well. Now, let’s go, I need to assist that idiot Dr. Reid today.’
‘Do you think he will come to see the truth?’
‘Perhaps. If not, then he may end up like his predecessor.’
‘Or worse,’ the first man said, with an actual hint of humour. They both chuckled.
Reid heard shuffling inside and decided he had heard enough. He spun on his heels and, as quickly as possible without making a sound, moved back down the corridor and rounded the corner. When he was out of sight, Reid leaned against the wall and tried to make sense of what he had just heard.
The Church? It did not sound like they were talking about any religion he was aware of.
And a predecessor?
If Reid hadn’t felt in enough trouble after seeing that creature last night, it now seemed that this whole facility was wrapped up in something very strange.
Enough was enough, he was going to get to the bottom of it all.
And he was going to do it now.
Chapter 10
After lunch—more grey slop that tasted of nothing—Adrian was tempted to go back to his cell for the remainder of the day, if only to keep away from Seymour. The fat man seemed pleased to learn that Adrian, like the rest of the group, would bend to his will, leaving him as the sole alpha in charge.
‘Worst thing about this place?’ Seymour asked, to no one in particular, just enjoying holding court. ‘No women. Men everywhere. Wall-to-wall cock. Man like me? He needs the attention of a lady.’
Trevor winced at this. Adrian sensed this was not a conversation the meek man wanted to have, and he knew it was Trevor’s relationship with a certain woman that had landed him in Arlington Asylum in the first place.
‘Sean?’ Seymour said, keen to engage the rest of his little flock. ‘Do you know what I’m saying with this? You miss the touch of a woman as well?’
Sean nodded but did not look up from his work—peeling the skin from an angry sore on his arm.
> ‘Come on, man, give me something back. What’s your favourite thing to do with a woman?’
Sean just shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know? You must know. Their tits? Or do you go straight to the good stuff?’
Sean didn’t answer.
‘Have you even been with a woman, boy?’ Seymour asked, clearly enjoying tormenting Sean and making everyone uncomfortable. Sean, again, did not answer.
‘Don’t tell me men are more your thing? Because that would explain why you are here. Is that it? You a fan of cock?’
Sean shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Good,’ Seymour replied. ‘So answer me. Tell me some of your conquests. We need to do something to pass the time here.’
‘I don’t want to, Seymour,’ Sean said.
Seymour’s eyes opened wide in realisation. ‘You don’t have any, do you?’ He let out a big, full-on belly laugh, and Sean’s face flushed. ‘You’ve never even tasted a woman, have you? That is pitiful. Jesus, what is it with you? That poison you pump into your veins make you limp? Pathetic worm.’ Seymour wiped a tear away from his eye. ‘Unbelievable. Now, I’ll tell you what really gets me going,’ he said as he leaned in close and his voice took on a sinister tone. ‘When she doesn’t want it. She’ll try to fight back, but that won’t help her any. You just force it, you see. Split her in two. Nothing like that sense of power.’
He chuckled, and Adrian’s already low opinion of the hideous man now dropped even farther. He felt a surge of anger grip him, and his thoughts were cast back to his mother, and the things she suffered at the hands of his father. When Adrian looked over to Seymour, that was who he saw.
The anger rose, and he knew he could not control it.
Then Trevor let out a chuckle.
‘You like to talk, don’t you, fat man?’
His voice was different from normal—though he was usually weak and timid, he now sounded… insidious.
And more feminine.
They all turned to face him and saw a dead, hollow smile on Trevor’s face.
Adrian held his breath—it looked like Mother was here.
‘Shit,’ Sean muttered.
Trevor flipping personalities was the last thing they needed right now.
‘Hello, boys,’ Trevor said.
Adrian had seen this before, and he knew that Trevor was adopting the personality of the woman who had traumatised him so much in life. ‘What have I missed?’ Trevor asked.
No one said anything, not daring to make a sound. Trevor turned to Sean. ‘How about you? Are you going to show some manners and answer me? Or are you thinking about when you can get your hands on more of that sweet opium? I have news for you, you pathetic worm, that ain’t ever happening.’
Sean looked away, so Trevor instead turned to Jack. ‘And you. Still with us, big fella? Or are you away with the fairies again?’ Like Sean, Jack stayed silent, so Trevor turned to Seymour. ‘And what about you, fat boy? Cat got your tongue? Care to tell us more of your stories of conquest and of the women you forced yourself onto?’
Seymour followed suit and said nothing, either. Usually so quick to anger, even he did not want to provoke what Trevor had become. Adrian then noticed Trevor’s gaze fall on him, just as an orderly walked over to them.
‘Come on, Adrian, don’t let me down. Someone here must be man enough to let me play with them? You’re the worst of all, aren’t you? Filthy little monster, just like your father. What do you say to that?’
Adrian wanted to say a lot, but he knew that Trevor, or this version of Trevor, was goading him, trying to provoke him into talking back. Because once you spoke back to Mother, that’s when the trouble really started. So Adrian, like the rest, stayed silent.
‘Pathetic,’ Trevor said.
‘What’s going on here?’ the orderly demanded, now standing beside them.
This was not going to end well.
‘Well, who is this?’ Trevor asked, turning to look up at the orderly.
‘None of your fucking business,’ the orderly replied. He was tall with black hair slicked over to one side. The man brought up his cosh under the jaw of Trevor. ‘Understand?’
Trevor chuckled. ‘Well, someone needs to learn some manners, don’t they?’
And that was it.
Trevor leapt up out of his seat with frightening quickness and clung to the orderly like a lion tackling a gazelle. And, like a lion, Trevor bit down on the screaming orderly’s face. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap as the noise level in the Communal Area rose—the outburst drawing almost everyone’s attention. People gathered around as Trevor quickly got himself on top of the orderly and bit at his cheek, pulling away flesh. A tear that ran with blood formed in the skin. Trevor then dug a thumb into the unfortunate man’s eye as his screams increased.
Trevor, meanwhile, just laughed manically as he went to work.
It didn’t take long for other orderlies to arrive and intervene, violently pulling the attacking inmate from their co-worker. Trevor hit the floor, and they descended on him with a flurry of kicks, punches, and savage whacks from their coshes. Trevor continued to fight back, but was overwhelmed. He screamed profanities and insults until, eventually, he was beaten unconscious, lying in a pool of his own blood. Two orderlies grabbed Trevor and dragged his limp body away, as others helped their still-screaming colleague, who now had a chunk missing from his face, the teeth beneath visible through the ruined, bloodied flesh.
The other orderlies went to work on the inmates who had gathered, unleashing random attacks to push back the crowd. Whatever trepidation these men had been feeling earlier was now gone, washed away by this chance to unleash their frustrations.
Adrian took an elbow to the face during the melee, and it was powerful enough to snap his jaw shut and send him sprawling.
When he looked up, a brawl had broken out.
Well, maybe brawl was the wrong word. It was a one-sided beating, dished out by the men in white uniforms who overpowered anyone daring to stand against them.
Adrian got to his feet and stepped back, feeling himself bump into someone. He turned around to see Seymour.
‘Watch where you’re going, boy,’ Seymour said. Adrian sensed an opportunity, hoping his actions would just get lost in the chaos.
Without thinking, he lashed out and swung his right fist, connecting with Seymour's jaw, which gave a satisfying crack. Seymour’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and he took a few steps back.
That should have been enough. Adrian had paid Seymour back for the things he’d said earlier, for the way he’d made Adrian feel, but that one punch felt good.
Too good.
So, it was not the last. He swung again, lefts and rights, battering the staggering man about the head.
‘You fucker,’ Adrian said through gritted teeth. Seymour wailed like a pig.
‘Stop,’ he begged in a pathetic, high-pitched voice. ‘Please.’
His begging only made things sweeter for Adrian, and he pushed Seymour to the ground. The fat man flailed on his back like a stuck pig.
Adrian dropped down on top of the other man and began striking him again as Seymour tried to cover his face. Each blow was further release of the pent-up rage and misery that had been building inside.
It was a purging.
And it felt exquisite.
The idea that this was wrong, and that Adrian was descending into the kind of behaviour that had defined his father, soon registered in his mind. Upon realising what he was doing, and who he was becoming, Adrian stopped. Just as he did, he felt himself pulled away and thrown to the hard, tiled floor. He looked up to see three orderlies surround him and instinctively prepared himself for a beating.
He was not disappointed.
Like Trevor before him, Adrian was kicked, punched, and struck with the brutal coshes. Pain bloomed in his ribs and the side of his head as the blows continued.
Adrian did not fight back—knowing that path
would only lead to more pain.
The chaos continued until, eventually, all the patients in the room were subdued, and they huddled together in fear of more retribution.
Adrian was hoisted up, barely conscious, and dragged from the room. Just as he reached the door, the two orderlies that were carrying him stopped. Adrian lifted his head, painful though it was, and saw someone blocking the way.
Jones.
‘I’ll take him,’ Jones said, curling his top lip. ‘The rest of you restore some fucking order in here.’
‘Yes, sir,’ one orderly said.
Jones leant in closer to Adrian. ‘Take it you’ve been causing a bit of trouble, have you? Gonna make sure you learn never to do that again.’ He then crouched down farther and, in one swift, powerful motion, hoisted Adrian up on to his shoulder with such ease it made Adrian feel like a child.
He then left the room, Adrian slung over his shoulder like a sack of meat.
‘You’re in for a world of trouble, now,’ Jones said, with no small amount of glee in his voice.
Chapter 11
Adrian was carried from Ward B, through the Main Hall, and into a place he had heard of but was unfamiliar with—all the while draped over the shoulder of the large orderly. His view was obstructed by the form of Jones as Adrian hung upside down, dangling behind the man’s back. Adrian had to turn his head to the side to see anything of the passing scenery.
He knew he was heading to isolation. Like so many other areas of the building, the walls here were tiled up to head height, this time a dull-white, before bare plaster took over up to the high, arched ceilings. The floor added a little more flavour to the decor with interlocking, diamond-shaped, cream and burgundy tiles. Adrian’s head was already spinning from the beating he’d taken, and the pattern of the floor only served to increase his nausea, so he closed his eyes until Jones stopped walking.
They had reached their destination.
Jones opened a blank door with a closed viewing hatch and tossed Adrian inside like a sack of discarded meat. Thankfully, the floor was soft, and as he fell into it, Adrian realised it was padded, as were the walls. A single bright bulb overhead illuminated the area with a sharp light that spilled down the white padding to the walls that were streaked with yellow and dark brown stains. Adrian also noted that the room had a foul, sour smell to it.
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