‘You’d be surprised at the sounds the mad can make.’
‘The mad?’ Trevor asked. ‘You mean, people like us?’
‘I ain’t mad,’ Seymour said, gritting his teeth. ‘So don’t lump me in with the rest of you.’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Trevor said, tentatively. ‘It’s just… aren’t we all in here for the same reason?’
‘No,’ Seymour shot back. ‘Most of us ain’t in here by choice. I don’t wait around and hope for some miracle that will never come, like you. I was taken and thrown in here against my fucking will. Ain’t nothing wrong with me. And I’m sick of being stuck in this place with the rest of you crazies. You mark my words, I’m getting free of this shit-hole.’
A smile formed on Adrian’s lips as he realised that Seymour was just as scared as the rest of them. The source of the large man's anger now made a little more sense to Adrian. It was fear. Getting angry was the only way he could deal with his situation.
Adrian felt a small sense of pride at connecting the dots.
In another life, maybe he could have been on the other side of the fence, helping people in need instead of being one of the infirmed.
‘Something funny, boy?’ Seymour asked, venom cutting through his voice.
Adrian stared at him, not wanting to back down, but not wanting to start any unnecessary trouble, either. He shook his head. ‘No, nothing is funny.’
‘Then what the fuck are you smiling at?’
‘Nothing,’ Adrian said.
Seymour was used to bullying the rest of the group, who would all fall in line when confronted, as Adrian had seen with Trevor. But Adrian was the new boy, and he got the feeling Seymour was still sizing him up, trying to figure out if he was a threat to Seymour’s alpha-male status, or simply a follower like the others.
Then there was Jack, of course.
Seymour never bothered the giant, but then again Jack was always silent. However, Adrian got the impression the docile man was always listening.
‘I don’t believe you,’ Seymour said, leaning forward and poking a fat finger into Adrian’s chest. ‘Now apologise, or I’ll rip off your jaw.’
Adrian stayed silent at first, just wanting to defuse the whole situation. The orderlies may not be as quick to dive in today, but that didn’t mean they would ignore this little exchange for long. ‘If you keep this up, we’re going to wind up in trouble,’ he said.
‘Then wind your neck in,’ Seymour spat back, red-faced.
‘Can we just leave it, before someone hears?’ Trevor pleaded and looked around the room, nervously.
Seymour leaned back in his chair, but still looked furious.
‘Apologise,’ he said to Adrian.
Adrian cast a glance over to Trevor, who was looking back with pleading eyes. He then turned to Jack, who was still looking down to the floor with a sad, nervous expression. And Sean was pretending to ignore everything, instead concentrating on the sores on his arm, drawing blood as he picked at them.
Adrian took a deep breath, then exhaled. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, slowly balling his hands into fists, an involuntary reaction that he hoped no one noticed.
Seymour’s round face broke into a wide, self-satisfied grin, obviously pleased with the power he’d exerted over Adrian.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, boy.’
Adrian turned away, seething inside. Seymour had bullied and belittled Adrian—embarrassed him and knocked him down—and Adrian hated it. Seymour had briefly instilled in him the same sense of worthlessness that his father used to on a constant basis.
And Adrian had to fight to keep the monster inside. He couldn’t allow it to show itself again. Thankfully, the orderlies wheeled in the trays of food—dinner time. It would give him something to focus on other than strangling that fat fucker Seymour. Because he knew that giving in to those urges would be wrong.
He wouldn’t be that person, he would not turn into his father.
So he let it lie.
For now.
9
Brian Hodgson had been found living on the streets three years ago.
He was the mental age of a child, despite being forty-two. With no one to care for him, or care about him, he had been a prime candidate for Arlington Asylum.
And while the notes did not say exactly how he was brought in, Thomas Reid knew that if the man had any capacity to object, it would not have mattered. Reid set the notes down and observed his subject.
Brian was currently submerged in a tin bath, which was filled with ice-water up to his neck. He had been this way for over twenty minutes, with orderlies on hand to make sure he stayed inside the freezing-cold water. Brian was a docile man, however, so the chances of him disobeying instruction was doubtful.
His teeth chattered together as he drew breath, and Reid noted a blue tinge on his lips.
Reid had no confidence that this treatment would prove successful, but wanted to see it through regardless, just to satisfy his own curiosity.
That was one of the perks to Arlington Asylum—there were no restrictions over the treatments and therapies he performed, and he was given free rein to indulge his theories. Reid had worked in other facilities like this, and none in truth really cared for the patients they treated—looking at them as little more than objects to use for further study—but even those places had a chain of command and someone to answer to.
Not here, however.
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.
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.
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