Asylum Bound

by Analeigh Ford

“The boys . . . stealing mattresses from the girl’s dormitories?”

  The girl laughs so hard she has to double over. I don’t know if I like her, or if she’s extremely annoying.

  “This isn’t a college dorm,” she says, then gets up from her spot on the bed. Her white linen clothes swamp her tiny figure. “Come on, we better get going. If we wait too long, you’ll just attract more attention.”

  I just throw my wet towel on the edge of my empty bedframe and follow her. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.

  She introduces herself as Adelaide while we wait for the elevator.

  “And what are you in for, Adelaide?” I ask.

  She looks up at me with horror and shock.

  “No!” she says, quickly. “You can’t just go around asking people that.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, hesitating for a moment before I step inside after her.

  “I’m not one of the psychos, don’t worry,” she says, making sure I definitely am going to worry.

  The elevator jerks to life, carrying us down at an excruciatingly slow pace. The old gears creak and groan the entire way down, making conversation basically impossible. As soon as it grinds to a halt on the ground floor, Adelaide skips out and starts heading down a hallway away from the main foyer without looking to see if I follow.

  So I don’t.

  This is the last place I saw before I was stuck in the neck with a tranquilizer.

  The front hall is paneled in rich, dark wood with ornate crown molding. The old gas-lamps from when this place was built in the late nineteenth century have been outfitted with electricity, but still give off that dull, yellow glow. A curving staircase follows the back end of the room leading up to the second floor, where I spot a nurse hurrying by in the opposite direction—but no one else.

  Even the front desk, situated at the base of the stairs, is empty.

  I take another step towards the entrance, but nothing happens. I glance once more at Adelaide’s retreating back, and then without any more hesitation, dart to the front doors. There’s no way they’re going to be unlocked, but I hope to all the gods there ever were that somehow, just maybe . . .

  And then, with a single tug, all my prayers are answered.

  The door flings open onto a wide, covered porch. It wraps around almost the full length of the building and looks down on the gravel drive and that same, green lawn I watched the patients walking on when I was in the director’s office.

  A couple orderlies stand out at the end of the drive by the gate, but they aren’t paying much attention. I wonder how hard it would be to scale those walls? I try to gauge their height. For some reason, they look taller from inside.

  Before I can step outside, however, I feel a sudden chill overtake me. I hear it first, his breath, the beat of his heart elevated, the soft step of his footstep as he closes the gap. Someone is standing right behind me.

  “Careful, greenie, or you’re going to end up in solitary again. And this time, it won’t be for just a night or two.”

  I want to whirl around to face him, but then his hand is on my shoulder. His grip is tight, too tight. His intentions are clear. This is not a friendly warning.

  “I was just looking outside,” I say. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “There is if I say there is. And today,” he pauses a moment, as if thinking, “it is.”

  “Thalia!” My new roommate’s voice squeaks out across the room. She’s stopped halfway behind a large, potted plant and is staring at me with wide eyes.

  When I turn to tell the creep behind me to fuck off, he’s already gone. I don’t know where he disappeared to, but with all the doorways and creepy sure-to-be-secret-passageways in the paneled walls, there’s no shortage of places to slip out of sight. I tuck that thought neatly away as Adelaide darts over and quickly pulls the doors back shut.

  “You need to be more careful. They don’t like it when the greenies go against the norm.”

  “Yeah,” I say, only glancing back once at the door as I finally follow her back in the direction she originally went. “I’m not afraid of some crazy frat boys.”

  Just like that, Adelaide tugs me into a side room with surprising strength. She corners me, shoving a finger in my face even though I must be nearly half a foot taller than her.

  “Shh!” she hisses at me. “You can’t talk about them like that. Not to anyone, you hear?”

  I brush her aside and step out of the corner she’s boxed me into. She’s pulled me into what looks to be a boy’s bathroom, from the urinals and all.

  “Why not?”

  Adelaide just shakes her head, realizing where she’s dragged me before dragging me back out. We continue towards the dining hall, but she keeps her voice quiet enough for only me to hear.

  “You need to be more careful.” Adelaide frowns again. “It’s . . . this place . . .” she glances around before shoving open the door into the dining hall. “People don’t leave this place, Thalia,” Adelaide says. “And there’s a reason for it. You’re going to be spending a lot of time here. Don’t go and ruin that on your first day.”

  As if somehow we’ve been overheard despite our whispers, three faces peer down at us from the upper landing. I didn’t get a good look at the guy from earlier, but I’m guessing it’s one of them.

  Adelaide is looking too. “Whatever you do, don’t get on their bad side. They’re not the forgiving type.”

  It’s my turn to lower my voice. “Adelaide . . . you seem really, really normal. When I get out, I can make a case for you. My parents left me money, a lot of money.”

  I’m about to tell her about my upcoming review, but something nudges me inside and I decide to keep that to myself, for now.

  She just nods and pats me on the shoulder. “You have so much to learn, Thalia. But you should eat now, before one of the crazies inevitably threatens the cooks and we go on lockdown.”

  She points towards a line forming cafeteria-style at the end of the room. I walk a few paces before I realize she isn’t following.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” I ask, turning back.

  Adelaide smiles at me. “Oh, yes! But you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got all I need, right here.”

  She holds out one of her hands, but it’s empty. Then she lifts it to her mouth, still smiling, and bites into the flesh of her wrist.

  6

  Thalia

  I have never, in all of my life, seen so much blood.

  I wait for the panic to start, for orderlies to come running blowing whistles—or whatever it is orderlies do in psychiatric hospitals when their patients start eating themselves in the middle of breakfast.

  But none of that happens.

  I don’t even realize I’m shrieking until a hand presses firmly on my shoulder and a rough, unfriendly voice tells me to shut up. An orderly walks over as the hand presses harder. He begins to gently escort Adelaide away from the rest of the patients while another radios for a janitor to come mop up the blood.

  I stay cemented to the spot, unsure of whether or not I’ve developed a sudden sensitivity to bodily fluids, until that hand on my shoulder pulls me around to face its owner.

  “You can’t just go around screaming every time someone around here does something unexpected.”

  It’s the boy from that first day, the same boy from the hall earlier today. The reason I got frozen in my tracks. The reason I’m still here. And still, the reason for the sudden warmth between my thighs.

  It’s something about him, something about his golden eyes that are so…captivating. Once I look into them, I can’t look away.

  He’s taller than I initially thought, with that sort of long, lean strength. His hand on my shoulder tightens, his grip digging into the sore muscles cramped from my nights in solitary confinement.

  “Or else you’ll end up losing your voice,” another voice says from over my shoulder again, and the temporary hold the first boy has on me is broken. I start to turn to see wh
o it is when a third voice breaks in from my other side.

  “Since it’s inevitably going to happen. All. The. Time.”

  I whirl around and find I’m surrounded by two more boys, each one standing closer than the last.

  I know right away that these are who Adelaide hinted at having stolen my mattress.

  But unlike Adelaide, I’m not just going to stand here and let them scare me. Whatever she says, this place can’t be run wild with patients. These three wouldn’t dare try anything, at least, not with so many orderlies around in the cafeteria. So, I put my arms out to either side so my hand rests in the center of two of their well-muscled chests and I start to push them gently, but firmly, away.

  They don’t budge.

  The second boy who spoke, the one with long dark hair swept back and narrow eyes glaring down at me, leans in even closer so his hot breath trickles down the back of my spine with every word.

  “You’re new here, so we’re going to let that one slide. But you’ll learn, soon.”

  Uneasy prickles race down my body, spreading from where his lips nearly graze the soft skin of my neck. Just as before, no one rushes in to save me. No one orders them away.

  The orderlies just look straight ahead, their faces turned to blank walls and ceilings. Like I thought, this is no ordinary asylum. And these are no ordinary patients.

  Their bodies are so close to me I begin to feel claustrophobic. Then, just as quickly as they surrounded me, each of them takes a sudden step back. Their posture relaxes from that of hunters waiting to pounce, into a casual “I-don’t-give-a-fuck” swagger.

  I take the opportunity to take a step back of my own and fold my arms across my chest. The loose white clothes don’t do much to make me look impressive, but that doesn’t matter. I won’t back down easily.

  “And who are you?” I ask, visually combing over them from head to toe. “Are you here to tell me we wear pink on Wednesday or something?”

  The first one who spoke steps forward a bit again. The very air around him feels saturated with his presence, drawing me in with notes of poisoned honey.

  “I’m Price. This is Kingsley, or Bentley . . . depending on the day,” he taps the boy with the dark hair on the shoulder, and then gestures at the extremely tall, broad-shouldered blonde to his left. “And this is Ives. I’d ask who you are . . . but we already know.”

  I sigh and let my arms fall to my sides. The motion only seems to agitate Price more, who I’m assuming thought I’d be intimidated by their rich-boy names.

  “Look, Price,” I say, wrapping my lips around his name like its taste is bitter in my mouth, “the whole untouchable bad-boy ringleader act just doesn’t work here. This isn’t high school where the jocks rule. This is a literal nuthouse. I just want to be left alone to be crazy in peace.”

  A weird thing happens as I finish speaking. The tables closest to me have gone quiet, listening and watching intently without any sort of pretense that they aren’t. But as soon as the word “crazy” drops from my lips, a hissing sound issues all around us.

  Price’s face screws up.

  “You really shouldn’t be using words like that around here,” he says, stepping closer and dropping his voice even quieter, more dangerous. Price plans to say something more, I can see it on his lips, but Dr. Silver’s voice cuts over him. All eyes dart away from the boys as the doctor’s shiny leather shoes tap across the tiled floor towards us.

  “Ah, Miss Novak. I heard about Adelaide’s episode and decided to come check on you myself.” He stops beside me and gives the three boys an odd look. “I hope you boys are behaving.”

  “Of course,” Price says, shooting him a cocky grin. “We’re model guests, you know that.”

  I snort. “Guests? Is this a hotel now?”

  The boys don’t stick around. As they leave, Kingsley stops to look me over in turn.

  “Sweet dreams, greenie,” he says, and then melts back into the crowd that’s started to leave breakfast along with Price and Ives. I follow Dr. Silver towards a long hall off offices, but my eyes still search out the boys in the crowd. If they’re the hunters and I’m the prey as they’d like me to believe, then I’m not letting them out of my sight either.

  Dr. Silver’s head snaps in my direction. “You’d do well to stay away from them.”

  “I don’t know, Doc,” I say, once they disappear up a flight of stairs to the second landing. “I’m sure they’re just after a bit of harmless fun.”

  Harmless my ass. If Kingsley’s threat means anything, then these boys are probably responsible for my missing mattress. Mess with my sleep, you mess with me. I would not want to face me after a bad night’s sleep, and somehow I doubt the missing mattress is going to be the end of it.

  7

  Ives

  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Price riled up like this.

  Even longer still since someone tried to stand up to him.

  Most people come to this asylum already broken. This new one, Thalia, she’s different. Ashford Asylum isn’t the last option in a string of failed attempts to either shut her up or fix her like it was for the rest of us. Just from my brief glance at her I know what it is that’s making Price pace across the back stone courtyard in the middle of the day.

  Thalia doesn’t belong here. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

  It’s that thought that makes the beast inside me rear his head.

  “That little bitch.” Price’s voice cuts through the chill fall air. The asylum looms behind him, jutting imposingly up into the overcast sky. Several faces peer down at us from one of the windows upstairs—at least until they catch me looking back.

  Price shakes his head, but Kingsley beside him is just shaking all over. Where Price is shaking from rage, Kingsley is shaking from excitement.

  “This is a good thing,” Kingsley says, running his fingers through his already slicked-back hair. “I can’t remember the last time one of the greenies really put up a fight.”

  Kingsley’s words make Price still. I don’t know exactly what’s been going on with him lately, but I think I have an idea.

  “You want to fuck her.”

  Both Price and Kingsley stop what they’re doing and look at me. I’m not usually one for many words, so when I do choose to speak, at least they have the decency to listen.

  I stand up from where I was perched on the edge of the courtyard railing. The thick, rough-hewn stone makes for an excellent bench. I keep my eyes on Price, watching him as I circle around to stand between them and the doors leading back into the conservatory.

  Kingsley’s eyes are trained on me as well, surely looking for any sign that I’m about the change form. He laughs a little, but it’s strained.

  “Of course, he wants to fuck her,” he says, “I mean, even my cock gets hard just thinking about her.”

  Price’s eyes flit over to him, and then quickly back to me.

  “You know the rules.”

  One of my eyebrows arches up, almost of my own volition. I can’t say why Price’s behavior is putting me on edge, exactly. Maybe it’s more than just the new girl Thalia. Something is different about Price too. He’s never stopped himself from…indulging…in the past. Usually he would have already started working that charm of his and been halfway up to his private bedroom by now, starry-eyed new girl in tow.

  “That’s never stopped you, or any of us, before.”

  “Oh really?” Kingsley pipes in. “I don’t recall ever seeing you with a girl. Not in that way, anyway.”

  “You know why,” I say, or really, growl. I stop and take a step back, taking a moment to calm my thoughts. “Price?”

  His tongue darts out between his lips, and for a second, it almost appears forked. To some, they might think it’s a play of the light, or even one of the many delusions that seem to take hold when you’ve been locked up in a place like this as long as I have. But I know what it is.

  “Ever since Thalia arrived last night, there’s been a shift
in the asylum,” I say, quietly enough that I don’t fear we’ll be overheard. “You saw it today, in the cafeteria. It isn’t just her. It’s the other inmates, too.”

  “You mean they hate her already?” Kingsley says. “You saw how they reacted to what she said.”

  “That’s the point,” I say. “They reacted at all. And it’s not just that. Dr. Silver…”

  “Dr. Silver stepped out of line,” Price says, cutting me off. “He’ll pay for that. He knows more than most who really runs this asylum.”

  Kingsley rubs his hands together in ill-concealed giddy anticipation. “When do we start?”

  Price, cool as always, stares ahead lost in thought. “Tonight, of course.” Another face appears pressed to the window. Where they usually disappear, skittish and afraid as soon as I spot them, this one stays looking down at us. The thick glass distorts the girl’s features so I can’t tell exactly who she is, only a long white oval against a square of black. Price sees it too. “Time to show Thalia how this asylum is run.”

  The raging beast inside me calms at his words, satiated for now. As much as I can’t stand disorder, he can’t even more. There’s a natural order to all things. And here, at Ashford Asylum, that order begins with us.

  8

  Thalia

  Dr. Silver’s office is nothing like the director’s. Unlike the bookshelf-lined walls and tall windows overlooking the still-green lawn, this office is much more fitting for a mental institution.

  The walls have been dry walled over the brick and painted a blindingly sterile white. There are no windows here in the center of the building, and I can hear the other inmates walking past with the door left ajar. It sounds more like a high school than anything, well, aside from the occasional burst of only-somewhat-maniacal laughter.

  “So, in order for us to properly help you we need to know what we’re starting with,” Dr. Silver says, unclipping his board and taking out all the notes he’s been making since he first stuck me in the neck with that tranquilizer.