Chapter 3
SIX MONTHS LATER…
We have a television in the activity room.
There are never a lot of people here, because a lot of them get drugged, restrained, or even put on starvation.
I don’t know where they go when they aren’t allowed to eat.
The story is when a person is ‘prescribed’ starvation, they’re taken to another part of the asylum that has cells like a prison.
I’ve yet to find that section, but I will, eventually.
Darren stands in front of the TV, yelling ‘fresh meat’ repeatedly, so I walk over to see what he’s going on about.
“Move,” I say to him so I can see the screen, and he instantly obeys. The patients know, as well as the medical staff, that I have a scalpel and I will use it. I’ve been in more than one fight since I’ve been here, because people piss me off, and I’m quick to act.
I stare at the woman on the news. She has long, dark hair hanging in soft curls.
As the judge announces she’s coming to Wellard Asylum, she turns around and sobs loudly.
Tears run down her ivory cheeks. Her deep brown eyes are wide with panic, as she stares in the direction of the camera, seeming to look right at me.
Fuck.
I watch as her chest expands with heavy breaths, as the deputies grab her arms and escort her out of the courtroom.
The ticker tape at the bottom of the screen reads, “Lunatic has been sent to Wellard Asylum.”
Glancing up at the blonde reporter, I listen as she tells her viewers, “Fitting, isn’t it? At least now she’ll be locked away, where she can’t hurt anyone else.”
Footsteps sound behind me. I peer over my shoulder and find Dr. Death glaring at me. That’s the nickname I gave him, because he takes far more lives than he saves. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s saved any.
He comes up to me and says, “She’s mine.”
Turning to him, I ask, “You know her?”
With a grin that would turn most stomachs, he says, “I’m her doctor.”
Dr. Alexsander Martin runs his fingers through his short beard, staring at me with a gaze that warns this girl will be no different from the others.
I’ve been here for a little over six months, and I’ve seen many women enter his office, never to be seen again.
Sometimes they last days or weeks, but often it’s mere hours.
The doctors in this place are as fucked up as the patients, maybe even more so.
“She’s pretty,” I admit, and he shakes his head in disagreement.
“Bianca is fucking gorgeous.”
I shrug my shoulders, like she’s just okay, but he’s right. Even through a TV screen, she was beautiful.
“When she walked into my office two years ago, I vowed that she’d be mine. It took some pulling of strings, but finally she’s going to be trapped here for me to do as I please, with no interference. Her husband beat the shit out of her, but now it’s my turn.”
I don’t know much about Alexsander outside of these walls. I only see what goes on here, but I imagine, in his practice, everything is above board, to prevent people from finding out the monster he is. Only those of us here are lucky enough to see what a sadistic asshole he is.
“I may need your help with her. If you want in.”
I run a hand through my short dark hair and bob my head.
“Yeah, I want in.”
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he arches an eyebrow.
“The kill is mine.”
I don’t argue, but I’m not surprised. We’re both serial killers, but everything that happens before their death is the prelude for him. It’s their end that gets him off. He’ll fuck a living woman, but it’s the dead ones he really likes.
I’m not better than he is, just a different kind of fucked up.
Yes, I kill people, but I don’t do it out of boredom.
There’s normally an incident that leads to me skinning people alive.
I don’t kill as a hobby, but Alexsander, I’m not so sure about.
He kills innocent women just to do it. The moment she walked into his office, it was decided.
I don’t limit my kills to only women, unlike Dr. Death.
He has a type; Long dark hair, ivory colored skin, and brown eyes.
If I had to guess, I’d say he has mommy issues.
Although, I can’t judge, because my parents are responsible for the fucked up piece of shit I have become.
This is why I’ll never want kids. Parents fuck children up.
I don’t care how much love they have for their spawn, they still cause them irreparable trauma.
Killers are not born, they are fucking made.
Mine created the monster I am, and they aren’t even here to answer for it.
I remember the day Lorenzo Bonetti Sr died from cancer.
I was too late. I’m always too fucking late.
TWO YEARS AGO…
Today is the day I’m going to kill the man responsible for everything that’s happened to me.
He’s the one who let Frank do that disgusting shit to me, and yes, he fucking knew about all of it.
On more than one occasion, he even watched it.
He never touched me like that, but it doesn’t fucking matter.
Without him, it wouldn’t have happened. That’s not the only thing that pisses me off.
I don’t want to be here, and he’s responsible for that too.
He cheated on his wife with my mother, and created something that can only be described as an abomination.
There’s no good in me, just like there is no good in them.
I can’t kill Frank, since Bella Bonetti already did that, but Lorenzo is mine to torture and kill.
I pull up to his house in climbing gear, prepared to hoist myself over his gate, and sneak inside. I’m wearing all black, to blend in with the dark night so I won’t be seen.
Standing near the gate, covered from sight by the shadows of the trees, I hear a commotion at the guardhouse, as the gates open and three cars whip in, flying to the front of the house. I stand, watching, and spot them exiting their vehicles quickly.
Bones, Reaper, Kage, and Psycho Bonetti.
The fucking assholes that have everything that should be mine.
Instead, I’m the bastard, hidden in the darkness, like the secret mistake I am.
Never quite good enough to be acknowledged.
Then I spot their mother, Lucia Bonetti, racing out of the house, and into her sons’ arms one at a time, as she sobs uncontrollably.
Off in the distance, I hear the guards talking amongst themselves, and they confirm my worst suspicions.
“I can’t believe the Boss is dead. So sad.”
Fuck.
I’m too late for him, but not his sons.
I am a Bonetti, but only in name. These men are my enemies. They owe me their lives. And I always take what I am owed.
“Earth to Raven.”
My brain snaps back to the here and now, just in time to hear a scuffle behind me. I turn toward the sound, and spot Crystal and Nikki in a screaming match.
“You bitch! You’re fucking cheating again,” Nikki yells, before stabbing Crystal in the eye with a plastic spork, knocking over the table they were playing cards on.
You would think plastic cutlery wouldn’t hurt that bad, but it cuts her skin between her eye and nose.
I look on as Dr. Death walks over to them, I assume, to break up the fight.
He stares into Crystal’s dark eyes, and I know she’s in trouble. She’s exactly his type.
“I have plans for you.” He chuckles darkly, before injecting drugs into her neck.