Page 42 of No Asylum Here

“I have a plant named Joanie. It’s a good name, isn’t it?” I smiled gently while examining her head wound now that I was closer. The accident hadn’t been in her file. Not that I trusted the patient files here. They couldn’t even get her birth date right.

“Who are you?” Bunny asked with guarded curiosity.

“My name is Dr. Beckett. I’m a new psychiatrist here. Would you like to go on a walk with me?”

The young woman swept her overgrown blonde locks from her eyes to pin me with a skeptical look. “Can Joanie come?

“Of course she can.”

Bunny’s demeanor shifted in a blink with an ear-to-ear grin. “Yes! Joanie loves walks!”

I stood up and held my hand out for her to take. Bunny gave it a blank stare, as though she wasn't sure what to do with it. Her blue eyes flicked nervously in the direction of my escort.

My heart ached for her. She'd been taught not to trust any of the staff here.

“It’s okay, Bunny. I’m here to help you, as best I can." I dropped my voice to a low whisper that only she could hear. "Patient Seventeen thinks you can help me, too."

At the mention of Seventeen, her eyes rounded with recognition, and her guard lowered enough to take my offered hand. I pulled her up, and she didn't let go, threading her fingers tightly through mine. Shuffling closer to my side, Bunny flung the orderlies a glare. "Are they coming on our walk too?"

From her tone, if I said yes, she wouldn't be as open with me. If she could show me Rook’s old office, as Seventeen said, I had a feeling he wouldn't be happy about it. And the orderlies would most certainly pass on what we said and did to Rook.

"No, they'll stay here."

The men exchanged a bewildered expression between them. “Rook won’t like it. You ought to allow us to escort you,” one protested.

I scoffed. “I don’t take orders from you. I’m the doctor here, and I just gave you instructions. You'd better listen to them, or there will be hell to pay.”

With Bunny's hand clasped in mine, I led her out of Ward One, leaving the speechless men behind. For the first time since coming to Saint Bart's, I felt a sense of power rippling through me. Was it the Treatment making me stronger in more ways than one? Or was something else happening inside me that was entirely my own?

The sensation didn't last long because, no sooner had we rounded the corner than Bunny wrenched her hand from mine and took off down the hallway in a fit of manic giggles. “Catch me if you can, Dr. Beckett!”

"Hey! Come back!"

It was no use. She was already gone.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Twenty

Tuesday

Moving with dizzying speed, Bunny disappeared from my sight in an instant. Her girlish laughter bounced along the winding halls, leaving me a trail to follow. Certainty that I was on her trail had me moving through the hospital’s labyrinthian corridors with confidence—until a right turn spat me out at a dead end.

An imposing archway loomed before me, with faded scripture painted above in swirling letters: Cor Jesu Sacratissimum, miserere nobis. My Latin was meager at best, but I could make out a portion of the passage.

Jesus, have mercy on us.

A cold hand of dread ran down my spine as I stepped into the large chamber. A long aisle stretched before me, with countless pews flanking either side. Oil paintings depicting patron saints hung on the chapel walls. The portrait of Saint Bartholomew demanded the eye first, with its center placement and elaborate gilded frame.

My attention drifted to the altar. A wooden Jesus hung on the cross, wearing only a tattered loincloth and a crown of thorns. Blood streaked his gaunt expression, permanently frozen in anguish.

As I edged closer to the macabre statue, I realized the paint was wet, the shock of scarlet still oozing…

No, not paint. Blood.

Fresh blood.

Every muscle in my body clenched when a noise came from behind the altar at the end of the chapel.