Tormented

by Lee Mountford

  Then he ripped.

  The orderly’s throat pulled open, forming a gaping red gash as the man’s wet gargles continued to sound. The stringy insides of the gullet were exposed and blood gushed freely. The orderly kicked and fought as his life slipped away.

  Adrian continued to rip the ruined throat apart until the guard stopped moving completely and his eyes became glassy and blank.

  It took a while, but slowly Adrian’s rapid breathing eased, and he once again started to regain his composure. He pulled his hands from the open wound and lifted them before his eyes. The sight of the murderous weapons—dripping with blood and chunks of claret—brought him fully back to his senses.

  ‘What did you do?’

  It was Sean. Adrian turned to see both him and Seymour standing in the corner of the room, huddled together, having witnessed his barbaric act.

  And it was a good question—just what the hell had he done? There was no way he could go back to how things had been after this.

  He was in trouble. Serious, serious trouble.

  He began to panic.

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ Adrian said. ‘I just… I just…’

  ‘You just made up your mind,’ Seymour said, with a hint of a smile breaking through his obvious shock. ‘And now, we need to move.’

  27

  ‘We need to go,’ Seymour repeated as he bent down to the dead orderly and relieved him of his set of keys. The one he had stolen earlier was on its own, whereas this appeared to be a full set, all attached to a black metal loop. One in particular stood out as being longer and chunkier than the others.

  He got back to his feet and saw that Adrian looked like he was teetering on the edge, ready to lose it, but Seymour didn’t want that to happen. He needed Adrian with him, as the man had proven he could be an asset—the body of the orderly with the yawning throat confirmed that—but Seymour also knew that the more people he had with him, the more potential there was for others to take the fall should something go wrong.

  And considering what Adrian had done to one of the guards already, it wouldn’t take much to divert all blame his way.

  Seymour also knew he couldn’t give Adrian—who was now just staring at his bloodied hands—the chance to dwell on what he had done, so grabbed the younger man by the arm. ‘Move,’ he commanded and heaved Adrian up. Thankfully, the confused man complied.

  ‘I… I… I just…’ he stammered, but Seymour didn’t want to listen to it.

  ‘It’s done,’ Seymour said, ‘no going back now.’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, and instead pulled Adrian from the room, ushering Sean out ahead as well. Only when they were in the hallway did he realise it would have been wise to check to make sure no one else was around first. The oversight annoyed him, and he knew he would have to be more careful. This time, they had gotten lucky.

  ‘Sean,’ he hissed, ‘go and check up ahead, make sure no one else is around.’

  ‘Me?’ Sean asked, looking genuinely shocked. Seymour felt a pang of anger bubble in his gut. Sean was a liability, a pathetic soul who drifted along with no drive and no initiative of his own. Seymour didn’t know if it was the drugs that made him this way, turning his mind to mush, or if it was his natural personality, but he didn’t care.

  He wouldn’t let anyone stop him from getting out of here.

  He kicked Sean in the back and sent the thin man sprawling to the floor. ‘Just fucking go,’ he said, pointing up ahead into the darkness of the corridor.

  At first, Sean looked like he was going to protest, but he soon saw sense and scuttled ahead, as light-footed as he could.

  ‘Useless,’ Seymour said under his breath. He then tried to focus on what the next move would be. While this was not a well-thought-out escape attempt by any stretch of the imagination—the opportunity itself having come about by pure chance—he still knew that some form of plan would be needed.

  The first step was easy—they had to head forward to the ward entrance in the Main Hall, which was in the opposite direction from the Communal Area. Sean was up ahead already, and peeked around the corner before turning back and giving a thumbs up.

  All was clear.

  Seymour set off, pulling Adrian behind him. Seymour hoped one of the keys they were now in possession of would unlock the door from Ward B and bring them out into the central area of the facility.

  Seymour had no idea how many orderlies or other staff would be present at this time of night, so they would need to tread carefully and, if at all possible, stick to the shadows.

  He caught up to Sean and looked around the corner as well, seeing a thick metal door at the end of the corridor. This was the exit from the ward.

  There were no vision panels or viewing hatches, so they would have no idea if someone was on the other side until they opened it.

  If they could open it.

  As he set off towards the door, Seymour noticed his heart-rate rise; the nerves and adrenaline that were already present after watching Adrian work now ramped up further. He clenched his fists and felt sweat on his palms and prayed the way ahead was clear.

  They reached the door, and Seymour pressed his ear to the cold metal, hoping to pick up any sounds from the other side. There were none, which meant that no one was present, or the door was blocking out any noise. If it were the latter, then it would be a problem.

  ‘Now what?’ Sean whispered, already out of breath.

  Seymour brought out the set of keys and knelt down in front of the lock. The first key that drew his attention was the longest one, but this didn’t fit, so he moved on to the next.

  ‘This is taking too long,’ Sean said. Seymour reached up and grabbed a handful of the man’s scraggly, greasy hair.

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘So just shut up and keep a lookout. Understand?’

  Sean nodded, and Seymour released him. He didn’t want to—he wanted to beat him, to kick him up and down the hallway, and the urge to hurt this man who dared question him was difficult to control—but he couldn’t give in to it. Not just yet.

  So he turned again to the job at hand and worked his way through the keys.

  ‘I’m going back,’ Adrian said. Seymour looked up at him, wide-eyed.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t do this. I need to go back.’

  Seymour got to his feet. ‘For God’s sake,’ he said, ‘you need to stop this and open your eyes. Look at the position you are in. Look at your hands, for God’s sake. They’re covered in blood. If you go back, then you take the punishment for what you’ve done. With us, at least you have a chance to get out of here. And why on earth would you want to stay in this hell-hole? Don’t you have any respect for yourself? What they do to us here isn’t right. They don’t want to help, you know that. And you also know that nobody ever leaves here. Not alive, anyway. So make up your mind, because I’m not going to keep having this argument. Do you want to stay here and die, or take a chance at having a life?’

  ‘I don’t deserve to get out of here,’ Adrian said, his voice quiet. More rage bubbled inside of Seymour, and he struggled to keep it under control. It had only been a few minutes ago that Adrian himself had unleashed such rage—which impressed Seymour—but now he was acting more like Sean, more like a husk of a real person.

  Submissive and pathetic.

  ‘No one deserves to be stuck here, Adrian,’ Seymour said, going against his instincts and trying a more friendly approach. ‘I don’t care what you’ve done. So stop wallowing and pull yourself together. Sean and I need your help, because we sure as hell don’t deserve to be trapped in here.’

  Seymour then turned away from Adrian and again bent down, working on the lock, trying key after key. Thankfully, Adrian didn’t go anywhere and just loomed over him, looking lost, but still present. That would do for now.

  Eventually, a key fit, sliding smoothly into place and taking hold. Seymour held his breath, slowly turned it, and was reward
ed with an audible click.

  The three of them looked at each other, knowing the time was at hand.

  ‘Well,’ Seymour said. ‘All or nothing now. Are we all in this together?’

  The truth was that he certainly wasn’t in this with them, and would gladly throw them to the wolves if needed, but he wanted them to think that he could be trusted.

  ‘I’m in,’ Sean said.

  ‘Good,’ Seymour answered as he got to his feet. He looked to Adrian. ‘And you?’

  There was a frustrating pause, and Seymour half-expected him to go crawling back to his room and wait for his master’s punishment, like a disobedient dog. But the answer surprised him.

  ‘Okay,’ Adrian said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Seymour said.

  The door gave out a slow creak as he pushed it open.

  28

  The door from Ward B led them through a shorter hallway, one lined with wood panelling. On the walls above the panelling were pictures and paintings of men in suits. Adrian only recognised the person in the last photograph, the one nearest a wooden door at the end of the corridor. It was a black and white photo of Director Templeton, who stood poised for the camera.

  But Adrian ignored the pictures and instead focused on escaping, something that would have seemed absurd to him less than an hour ago. And now he didn’t have a choice as he, quite literally, had blood on his hands. The wet, sticky substance was already starting to dry and flake, darkening in colour.

  Fuck.

  How had things spiralled out of control so much?

  Seymour led them to the door, which they quietly opened, looking through to see a large, dark, open space. The Main Hall was cluttered with ill-matching desks and bookcases, and loose papers and books were strewn everywhere, stacked on desktops and crammed into the overflowing shelving.

  Whenever Adrian had been brought through here previously, it had always been during daytime hours. Now, however, in the dead of night, the vacant office seemed eerie.

  They stepped into the space to see other doors, like the one they stood in front of, cut into the walls of the hall, both on the same side and opposite. And to the back of the room, Adrian saw a large, metal elevator door, painted a dull red. It seemed out of place with the decor of the rest of the room, as did the smaller, single door of the same colour farther to its right.

  But it was the other end of the Main Hall where everyone's attention was drawn.

  Towards the exit.

  A double door set with long, full-height, glazed panels. Beyond the glass, like every other possible point of escape in this place, Adrian could make out the familiar sight of those restrictive bars. There would be no breaking through, so they had to hope one of the keys they had would unlock it.

  They quickly ran up to the large entrance door, and Adrian could feel his heart pounding.

  Would escape really be this easy? And where the hell was everyone?

  Granted, the office staff probably wouldn’t work through the night, but the route from their ward—save for the orderly Adrian had killed—was too straightforward.

  Something didn’t seem right with all of this.

  Seymour didn’t wait to be asked, however, and started trying every key he had on the front door, working through systematically.

  Adrian and Sean looked around, nervously. It was quieter here than on their ward, the background sounds of the damned drowned out by the thick metal doors and walls that separated the place from the individual wards.

  ‘No,’ Seymour said, frantically trying to jam the last key into the lock.

  But it was no use.

  ‘What?’ Sean asked, though it was apparent what the problem was.

  ‘None of them fit,’ Seymour said, a hint of panic now creeping into his voice.

  ‘How can that be?’ Sean asked.

  Seymour answered, but not verbally. He dropped the keys and let loose with a punch, catching Sean on the jaw and sending him flailing to the floor.

  ‘Because none of them fit, you cretin!’ he shouted.

  ‘Quiet,’ Adrian snapped, ‘someone will hear us.’

  Seymour suddenly turned on him, grabbing a handful of Adrian’s clothing. ‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ he said through gritted teeth. Thankfully, however, he lowered the volume in his voice a little. Sean slowly got to his feet, nursing his jaw.

  ‘If you keep shouting,’ Adrian said, keeping his own anger in check, ‘then you’ll draw people to us. We’ve been lucky so far.’

  Seymour let go of Adrian, but did not step away. ‘Well, now what? If we don’t have the keys to get out, then we’re in trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean, now what?’ Adrian asked. ‘This whole thing was your idea.’

  ‘Well, we’re out of options. We need to go back.’

  ‘Go back?’ Adrian asked, grabbing Seymour’s arm. ‘We can’t go back. There is a dead guard in my room with his throat ripped open. Did you forget about that?’

  ‘I didn’t forget,’ Seymour said with a sneer. ‘But it’s your problem. I can go back to my cell, and you can take the fall for all of this. Nothing to do with me or Sean. Isn’t that right, Sean?’

  Seymour turned to look at Sean, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Adrian was raging—there was no way he was going to allow Seymour to lay the blame for all of this at his feet, or let the fat man carry on like nothing had happened.

  He would make the bloated fucker pay.

  Visions of tearing open his throat surged through Adrian’s mind, and he clenched his fists, ready to indulge.

  ‘Quick,’ Sean suddenly said, ‘people are coming.’

  Adrian listened, then heard it too. As much as he wanted to hurt Seymour, there wasn’t time right now.

  ‘What do we do?’ Sean asked, his voice trembling.

  ‘Shit,’ Seymour said. ‘We can’t just stay here.’

  ‘But we can’t go back,’ Sean said. ‘They’ll see what he did.’ He pointed to Adrian. ‘And they will know it was us.’

  Adrian knew there was no way out now. By killing that guard, then following Seymour blindly, he had doomed himself.

  He had nothing left but time, and likely only a small amount of it. Still, maybe there was a way to avoid detection for a little while longer.

  That meant picking a door and finding somewhere to hide to regroup. Ideally, a door that would not lead to a heavily populated area.

  ‘There,’ Adrian said, pointing to the other side of the room to a door next to the elevator.

  ‘Why would we go through there?’ Seymour asked, but Adrian didn’t feel the need to answer. Instead, he just snatched the ring of keys from Seymour’s hand and ran over. ‘Hey!’ Adrian heard Seymour yell, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t care if they followed him or stayed where they were—the hell with them.

  If Adrian couldn’t avoid whatever repercussions lay ahead, then he could at least postpone them for as long as possible. As it turned out, he wasn’t going to be alone—he heard Seymour’s and Sean’s rapid footsteps as they followed behind.

  When he reached the door, Adrian noticed further details—the dark red paint had blistered and flaked, revealing rusted metal beneath, and there were also what appeared to be gouges, or deep scratch marks, cut into its surface. Adrian lifted the ring of keys he had taken from Seymour and took hold of the longest one, somehow knowing that it—distinguished from the others—would work.

  The key slid easily into the lock, and when Adrian twisted it, the lock clicked open.

  ‘What’s the point of going through here?’ Seymour asked. ‘It doesn’t help us get out.’

  ‘If we stay here we get caught, simple as that,’ Adrian explained, though he still wanted to strangle Seymour. Adrian then pushed the door open to reveal a stone staircase running down below, twisting back on itself. The walls had small electric lamps on them that burned a dull yellow, but were too weak to give off any meaningful light.

  ‘What’s down there?’ Sea
n asked.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Adrian said, ‘but you can stay here if you want.’

  ‘I’m not going,’ Seymour said, crossing his arms defiantly. That was actually music to Adrian’s ears, but then they heard something that changed everything—a door in the Main Hall opening, from Ward B, and frantic, approaching voices.

  ‘Get the director. We need to find whoever did this,’ someone yelled.

  Clearly there had been orderlies patrolling the group’s ward, but had been behind them as they made their escape. Now, however, it seemed that they had found Adrian’s handiwork, and they were furious.

  ‘Shit,’ Seymour said.

  Adrian, Seymour, and Sean quickly slipped through the door, and Adrian pulled it closed behind them, locking it as soon as it was shut.

  ‘They’re going to find us,’ Sean said, his voice quivering.

  Adrian turned and looked down the spiral staircase, seeing it twist into darkness. And from that dark, strange moans and cries drifted upwards to meet them. Not the usual shrieks of the patients who resided here, but something entirely different.

  And it came from the only way forward.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Adrian said, and they began their descent.

  29

  Reid did not want to be back in this room.

  Even being surrounded by Templeton and his selection of privileged orderlies did not make him feel safe here.

  None of them were safe in the presence of that thing.

  Templeton and his group all looked upon this husk of a person in awe, some seeming positively excited to be in attendance.

  First timers, he guessed.

  ‘I cannot believe I am here,’ one of the orderlies said.

  ‘You have done well, Brother Andrew,’ Templeton said, like a teacher praising a young pupil. ‘But remember we are here for a reason. I would like you all to be steadfast and resolute.’

  ‘Understood,’ Brother Andrew replied, straightening up his body—all that was missing was a salute.