Page 65 of No Asylum Here

Another agonizing stretch of silence. Then, she finally lowered the journal with a sigh. “She seems better than she was in your journal’s accounts. But she’s still traumatized. Probably always will be. I’m working on getting her out.”

A cruel fist of regret gripped my heart. If only that were possible. “You're a good woman, Dr. Beckett.”

She gave a bitter chuckle. “Right. Well, you’re a dirty bastard.”

“Well, that’s true. But what have I done to anger you? I’d think you’d be happy to find the journal. You gotta admit, it’s an interesting read.”

“You made me degrade myself for your fucked up fanfiction!” She smacked the last entry with an angry gesture. “Or do you believe this actually happened?”

“Fanfiction?” My gaze hardened with cold amusement. “Of course. How silly of me. Why wouldn’t you think my journal is nothing more but the scribbles of a maniac?”

“It’s just that it ends abruptly, and you end on a fictional note.”

“Fictional?”

“Well…” She cleared her throat, carefully choosing her words. “It’s just…”

“Listen, Doc. I might not have all the screws—” I tapped my temple with a finger “—but I wasn’t always like this. That journal was from before…”

“Before what exactly?”

“Before everything went to complete shit.” My eyes took their time roaming over the length of her body. She had a bathrobe on, covered in a dark figure wearing a white mask with a stretched out mouth and bubbled text reading Call Me.

“So, does the mask do it for you then?”

My cock throbbed almost painfully in arousal at the sight of her. She looked disheveled compared to how I’d seen her last. Before, she’d exuded professionalism with a delightful dash of sex and charm.

Now she had her hair gathered into a messy pile on top of her head, her sleep-heavy eyes bright with determination.

“What?” It was as if she’d been in such a hurry to confront me about the journal that she hadn’t given much thought to the fact that she’d come here in nothing but her pajamas. Realizing that I was eying her bare thighs—she wore only an oversized t-shirt reading I WANT PIZZA NOT FEELINGS—under her open robe. She quickly pulled the robe closed with a huff. “Focus. Why did the nurse tell you Bunny was dead? Did you save her? What happened?”

I shrugged. “She died.”

“Bunny is very much alive, and you know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have sent me on a wild goose chase with her to find your journal.”

“Well, she’s not dead anymore. Not really alive either, but you’re not ready to hear about that yet.”

“Rook… He hasn’t…” I swallowed the fist in my throat. “He’s staying away from her?”

“I think so. Nurse Beatrice seems to keep him sated. The rest of the time, he’s shut up in his lab.”

“Believe what you want about the journal, but know that Rook is a dangerous monster who gets off on punishing me for humiliating and mutilating him. He will use you to hurt me. In his favorite way to use a woman.”

With a face of stone, she nodded. “I’ll kill him if he tries.”

If only it were that easy. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m not your girl, Dr. Rook.”

I gnashed my teeth at the name, a growl rising from my chest. “Don’t call me that.”

“You want me to be ‘your girl,’ but you won’t let me use your given name?”

“It’s his name. He disowned me. So, I disowned him, his name, and the entire fucking bloodline.”

“You are not your father. I might question certain parts of your story in this journal, but what I do believe is that you were a good man once. And maybe that good man is somewhere inside you still.”

“He’s gone,” I said bitterly.