Damaged (The Wellard Asylum)

Prologue

“ K atarina Everson,” the judge’s voice booms out over all the low murmuring voices in the courtroom, making me roll my eyes. I fucking hate when people call me by my full first name. That’s what my dad called me whenever I was in trouble…which was all the damn time.

I slowly lift my eyes to where Judge Andrews sits behind his bench.

“You are hereby found mentally incompetent to stand trial for your crimes by reason of mental disease or defect and will be held indefinitely at Wellard Asylum for the mentally and criminally insane.” The sound of his gavel banging echoes loudly around the large room.

Yeah. We’ll fucking see about that, I think to myself.

He then stands and exits through a door just behind him, probably to his judge's chambers, not wanting to spend another minute in here with me. A smile creeps up my face as I take in his words fully.

Not jail. Not prison. But a hospital.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

The laughter starts bubbling up from my chest as soon as my public defender starts packing up all her stuff from the table. She wants to get as far away from me as possible.

Sara Creighton, my public pretender, did everything she could not to defend me. She didn’t want my case in the first place, nor did she try anything at all. Her immediate defense was insanity.

She thinks I’m crazy.

She hasn’t seen my kind of crazy yet.

I’m crazy possessive and protective of what I deem as mine.

And Ethan is just that…Fucking. Mine. Now, I can tell you that, on top of being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was also labeled with antisocial personality disorder, but those damn quacks honestly don’t know what the fuck they are talking about.

I’m not antisocial. More like I’m socially selective. At least that’s what I like to call it. I mean, I get along with pretty much everyone, unless I don’t like you or you piss me off. In that case, you should most definitely watch your back. But other than that, I can tolerate most people.

Alright…Maybe not tolerate them, but at least I don't kill everyone on site.

Now all those damn quack doctors want to do is give me drugs that make me feel like I’m barely living. Just drooling all over myself, while I’m only a shell of who I should be.

My laughter grows manically as I turn quickly, facing where she is sitting – my reason for being here in this courtroom right now.

Victoria Leighann Sandoval.

Her face is currently unrecognizable, still swollen with bruises, cuts, and even a few stitches, after the beat down I gave her.

The ass whooping she deserved.

She’s lucky that's all she got, because she deserves to die for what she did.

She has a heavy bandage around her neck as well, hiding where I tried to slit her throat just before I was pulled off her and was held down until the fucking cops showed up.

Her right arm is also in a cast that encases the entirety of it from shoulder to palm, being held firmly to her body by a cloth sling. I broke it in three places for touching what is mine. I tried to tear it from her body, but unfortunately, I did not succeed.

I found her making out with my boyfriend, and soon-to-be fiancé, Ethan Ashford, so she’s lucky she’s still alive to tell the tale. When my eyes find hers, her ugly brown eyes widen comically as she stands frozen in place.

Well, one eye.

The other is swollen shut.

Seeing her again, I lunge at her, but the officer standing off to the side moves quickly, grabbing me around my middle and lifting me up.

He throws me face down on the table that I’ve been sitting at for the past several days of court and pulls my arms behind my back, working to place handcuffs on me.

His hold is rough, and I know I will have bruises after this.

I don't give a fuck.

I move, trying to break his hold, all the while turning my head in her direction.

“Enjoy your fucking time, Vicky ,” I yell, spitting her name with disgust, making the entire courtroom go quiet as the officer pulls me to stand up and attempts to move us back to the holding area.

“You’re a dead bitch walking, you thunder-cunt.

I will fucking find you and I will Fucking.

End. You. ” Emphasizing the last three words to get my point across, my voice bellowing as she starts to cry hysterically again, which of course makes me throw my head back and laugh even harder.

“Watch your fucking back!” I sing-song as spit flies from my mouth.

“You will never…” The officer tries to maneuver me out of the courtroom again, but I pull on any part of him I can get my hands on and kick out as much as possible, trying to get out of his hold.

“Get the fuck off me. You will never know when I’m coming.

Get your fucking hands off me,” I continue yelling, kicking, and pulling with all my might to get at her.

I’m guessing multiple cops step into the courtroom, attempting to hold me back from trying to get to her, but my vision is jaded. All I see is red… and her! I’m not done with her yet. And I won’t be until she’s sinking to the bottom of Clinton Lake.

A few people have stepped up next to her to try to soothe and protect her from me. That’s fucking laughable. Nothing can protect her now. When my sights are set on something, I’m hyper-focused like a laser.

She’s lucky I’m handcuffed right now, or else this would be over with. I'm already deemed insane. Maybe I should show them just how insane I can be.

Hell hath no fury than a betrayed woman pissed the fuck off.

Arms encircle my waist again, crushing my secured arms between me and whichever neanderthal just lifted me off the ground. “Fucking put me down, you brainless meathead.”

One of the other cops moves up to us, helping try to restrain me so that I can be removed from the courtroom and taken to the holding cells.

He comes around in front of me to grab my legs.

When he lifts them in his hold with a cocksure look in his eyes, I pull my knees to my chest, pulling him forward as well, and in quick succession with all my power, I kick out, knocking him backward onto the floor.

He looks at me with pure unadulterated anger on his face at being bested, and by a girl no less, struggling to stand and storming back over to me.

“Bitch,” he curses under his breath just as he reaches down again in another attempt to secure my legs.

Using the jackass behind me as leverage, I knee the fuckhead in the face, making his nose explode with blood.

Red. My favorite color.

I do enjoy watching a bitchass bleed.

“Fuck,” he screams out, cupping his face.

“That’s what you fucking get,” I scream, spitting on him. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me!”

Laughing even louder now as he’s bent over at the waist trying to staunch the bleeding, another of the uniformed buffoons grabs both of my legs around my knees from the side. This time, unfortunately for me, he is able to lift my legs from the ground.

It isn’t without tons of effort on their part, but they are finally able to move me through the double doors where the holding cells are. As I’m carried through them, I look over and my eyes once again clash with Victoria’s.

Her face is drenched in tears, making me smile. I don’t have to see my reflection to know that the look on my face right now is what would only be classified by the doctor as…psychotic.

And shit, I’m actually okay with that.