Page 79 of No Asylum Here

At that, she dropped the speculum. Through her surprise, she might have kept her grip if it wasn’t for the bucket-load of demon cum pouring from her used hole.

The speculum fell to the ground at her feet with a wet smack.

Leather restraints pulled taut as my head kicked back with an evil laugh.

Straightening, she pushed her legs together and cleared her throat. I smirked at the renewed blush burning her cheeks. “The Treatment… It’s almost like a split personality disorder, isn’t it? One moment, you're the book-loving, calm, educated, level-headed man. And the next, you’re like the Joker.” Her nose crinkled. “You had Batman in the ‘60s, right?”

The medical talk—and the mention of my favorite television show—instantly sobered me. “Only with me. With everyone else, the monster seems to devour the soul, as far as I can tell, and replace the person they were before.”

“Are you implying you still have your soul then, Doctor?”

“You tell me, Dr. Beckett. What’s your professional conclusion?”

Electric silence stretched between us as she considered the question. “Undecided.”

That made two of us. My opinion on that was a recent development. Before she came along, I was convinced that the Treatment, regardless of what mutations occurred—it varied subject to subject—destroyed the soul in the process.

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Tuesday more than made me feel alive again. Simply being near her gave me purpose. She was a bright light in my dark world, and I’d fight all of Hell’s demons if it meant keeping that flame of hers burning.

I loved her to the point of pain, true visceral pain. The kind Rook and his cruelty could never hope to create.

How could anyone without a soul feel the things she made me feel?

“Alright, Doctor. I believe I’m ready to tell you the rest of my story.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mal

I stood over Bunny’s body with a cold pit in my chest.

She was perfectly healthy the last few times I examined her. So what happened?

Regret slithered through my circulation as I grieved over Bunny’s sheet-covered body. The operating room was empty, and with no one to see me cry, I allowed myself to weep for my dead friend.

This wasn’t my first time losing a patient. But this one fucking hurt. Most days, Barbara Reed had been the only spark of light in this miserable old church.

Wiping away my tears, I tugged the sheet back to see her face.

Sweet, bubbly Barbara looked at peace with her eyes closed. Even though I knew her death had been nothing but agony, because I was the only one here who seemed to administer pain medication without a second thought.

My throat swelled with emotion when my gaze caught on the tuft of yellow hair poking out from her gown’s collar.

She’d snuck her dolly into the delivery room with her.

Something critical snapped inside me.

“He needs to die,” the voice of the mad thing rasped in my ear.

“I’m not a murderer.”

“Don’t give me that bleeding heart bullshit. Let me take over for a while. I’ll do it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore it. Hearing voices wasn’t unheard of, especially knowing it was a side effect of the Treatment. But this voice… It wasn’t my subconscious. It wasn’t me.

“I am you. A better you. And I’m here to stay. Might as well get used to it, Doc.”