Page 88 of No Asylum Here

Either he raped her right there, feet away from me, while he forced me to watch, or he injected her with the Treatment. While no one could stay dead in this pocket of reality, the Treatment was the only permanent way someone could change. If her body couldn’t handle the toxin, she’d become a mutated zombie-like shadow of herself and be sent to live outside, beyond the fog, with the others.

Best case scenario?

She’d become like me. The Treatment would poison her blood, and from it, a monster would be born within her. A mad thing that would whisper evil nothings into her ear, biding its time until she lost control and it took over…

My veins, muscles, every tendon in my body swelled with fury as the thing inside shoved its way into the driver's seat. It was far stronger than I was, and the chain began to groan as metal links stretched and fabric ripped.

Rook expelled a heavy sigh. “He’s always been so dramatic whenever he doesn’t get his way. Been like that since he was a boy.” He spoke with Tuesday like this was a normal conversation between a father and his son’s girlfriend. “You’ll have your hands full with this one.”

Clearing his throat, the moment was shattered, and once again his demeanor darkened as he reached inside his bag and brandished a syringe full of the radioactive green Treatment. “Choose now, Dr. Beckett, or I’ll give you both kinds of injections.”

With his free hand, he squeezed the bulge in his pants for emphasis.

Our eyes locked. Tears gathered in Tuesday’s eyes as she did everything in her power to hold them back. My girl had every reason to cry. Everything about this situation was fucked, and if I’d just stuck to my original plan and remained cold and detached, he wouldn’t be using her like this.

“I–I–choose… I…” Her voice warbled and cracked.

A cry slipped from her lips as he ripped her skirt up and delivered a brutal smack to her bare ass. “Make your choice!”

“The Treatment,” Tuesday pushed out her answer while her gaze still held firm to mine. Determination crested her brow as she put on a brave face. “If you’re going to do it, get it over with. I have other patient appointments to get to today.”

My heart—the one that hadn’t felt like it had been there at all until she came along—shattered into a million pieces. My brave, beautiful, brilliant doctor.

If only I could save her.

Maybe then, I’d finally forgive myself for failing Bunny, the baby, and everyone else who called St. Bart’s home.

The chains started to snap. Rook waved a hand at one of the larger orderlies. “Sedate him.”

The man trudged forward with the sedative already prepared in his large, gloved hands. I’d seen this grunt before. He’d been around for a while, making him one of the more capable ones.

Just before he could shove the needle into my neck, the chains gave way, and I surged out of the chair in a burst of fabric, leather and broken steel. My fist slammed into one orderly’s throat so hard his bones crunched, his neck breaking in two with the blow. Another flanked me from behind, and I spun, claws shredding the fabric of my straightjacket sleeves just in time to slice the demon’s torso to ribbons.

I turned to take on yet another of Rook’s grunts. Instead, everything moved in slow motion as I found myself staring into the eyes of the devil himself, his noseless features crinkling with his smile.

“After all these years, my boy, I’m finally having some real fun.”

It wasn’t until a sharp pain flared in my throat, and I gasped for air, that I noticed the scalpel in his hand. Covered in blood. My blood.

I clutched my throat as if I could hold it in.

My father had slit my throat.

Just as I’d done to him years ago. This wasn’t the first time he’d finished me in this manner. Hell, we were probably well into the double-digits with this particular execution method.

The horror of it wasn’t the pain or the spurting blood. It wasn’t even my pathetic gasps as I tried and failed to suck air into my lungs.

It was the fact that Tuesday was here to witness it all. She didn’t know what was going on. She hadn’t believed much of what I told her. If seeing was believing, this would be her evidence, and I hated how much it was hurting her.

She opened her mouth, screaming my name as the tears she’d fought so hard to bridle flowed freely down her flushed cheeks.

I love you, she mouthed to me.

Against all odds, I smirked, a momentary flame of joy sparking to life in my chest. I tried to mouth it back. Only gobs of thick blood gurgled from my mouth, leeching from between the bars of my mask.

Comfort her. If only Rook had stabbed me anywhere else, I’d have the breath to reassure her that I’d see her again and to not cry for me. I’d be okay.

As one of Hell’s most stubborn demons, I’d be back for her.