14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Avery
After finishing the schedule with Damon, which involves the three of them taking turns standing guard of my room at night, we find Grey and Theo in the hallway.
"No blood stains? I'm a little surprised," I laugh, taking note of their clean attires.
"It's still early in the day," Grey teases. "Figured I'd wait until after lunch before I make a mess."
He seems to be in a better mood, though his gaze does linger over to Damon occasionally—as if he's checking for evidence. I'm just not sure if that evidence is swollen kissed lips or slap marks.
"Did you sort out your ass ?" he asks, lips twitching as he sneaks an obvious look at my rear-end.
I slap his arm playfully, nodding. "Damon can fill you in. He has all the details."
The four of us start to make our way to the Westwood wing, but before we can reach the door, we're stopped by a guard stepping in front of us. Dark green eyes focus on me, narrowing as he takes in my surrounding company.
"You've been summoned," Damon says matter-of-factly to me. "Who?" he directs the last part to the guard.
The guard looks a little surprised, turning his attention away from me to stare at Damon.
"Dr. Elsher, sir."
Immediately, Theo and Grey step closer to me, practically smothering me with their frames. Our hands entwine as I give them a little squeeze of reassurance.
"I'll go," I answer, startling them, before the guard ends up as a pile of bloodied flesh.
"Absolutely not," Theo snaps.
"Over my dead body—or rather, his dead body," Grey interjects angrily.
Damon swings a glance over his shoulder at me, trying to read the expression on my face. Holding his gaze, I give a little nod.
"I'll be fine."
They clearly aren't convinced, shooting deadly stares at the guard as if daring him to forcefully try to take me.
"He's a piece of shit," Grey murmurs quietly to me. "We can't trust him."
"I know," I answer, surprised at how little I feel. "But I want that fucker to look me straight in the face, to own up to what he's done."
Grey doesn't look pleased, tightening his hold on my hand almost painfully.
"No."
Before I can open my mouth to reply, Damon cuts me off.
"Let her go."
A look of betrayal crosses Grey's face as he snaps his neck to turn to him. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
Despite the intense stare coming his way, Damon doesn't flinch, or even look at Grey. He's still watching me, face a perfect mixture of calm and detachment.
"We'll wait in the hallway," he tells Grey. "Let her do this."
"No fucking way. Theo, back me up here."
Theo stays silent, taking all of us in. Moving his eyes to the guard, he tilts his head downwards, and I don't see what he does but the guard suddenly takes two large steps back in fear.
Finally, Theo turns to Grey, nodding. "I agree with Grey."
"Thank you! At least someone has their sense about them."
I don't know what possesses me to do it, but I let go of their hands, gliding toward Damon.
"I'm not weak," I whisper to him. "I won't let them break me—break us. If I run, they will know they have won and keep coming after me. If we're going to take them down, we need to fight back."
Damon doesn't move, but I notice the change in his demeanor. "I'll wait outside the door. You just need to call out to us."
"Deadman!" Grey snaps, listening in on the conversation.
"Enough. Avery is going. You can either follow or you can go make yourself useful doing something else."
The silence is deafening as they stare at each other in some kind of power struggle.
Feeling the tension rise, I spin around, facing Grey and Theo. "It's okay," I smile. "I'm okay. You'll be right there and I want to prove that motherfucker wrong." Taking a deep breath, I gather my wits and courage. "I need to prove him wrong."
My head is high as I stroll into Dr. Elsher's office. Without a doubt in my mind, I know he's guilty of co-conspiring with Whittingham.
From the moment he arrived in Lilydale, taking over from Dr. Smith, he's hated me. At first, I had no idea why—wondering if it was just me. Was I that unlikeable?
It felt like he was trying to use my weaknesses against me, triggering all the issues that I was trying hard to overcome. He played on my self-loathing, treating me as if I was a lost cause.
It's just now that I realize how vastly different he is to Dr. Smith. I'm still mad at Smith—especially knowing he's tied up in Lilydale as part of Damon's family—but during my sessions, he never made me feel subpar or disposable.
Whenever he spoke about my mental state, he tried to make a point that I could overcome it—that I didn't have to be this way forever. It was never my fault, despite what I had been made to believe.
He tried to give me blind hope, even when I refused to listen. If I didn't want to communicate, we would sit in silence. I was never pressed or pushed, taunted or teased.
I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for his actions in leaking my file and betraying my trust, but I do know that in comparison to this colossal asshole, he's nowhere near as evil.
"Ms. White. How lovely to see you have returned."
A sneer crosses my face, but I don't bother hiding it. Instead, I raise an eyebrow, sitting down on the patient seat. "I'm sure you're so thrilled ."
I match his tone and energy effortlessly—if he wants to treat me like a dog, then I'll act like a bitch.
Dr. Elsher starts to open his mouth, his shiny perfect teeth near blinding me, but I cut him off, waving my hand around carelessly.
"Let me guess— am I going to be uncooperative as usual ?" I mock, air quoting him.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my change in attitude. Sure, the last time we met I gave it back to him before they took me to hell. But that was standing up for myself, proving I was more than the mental illness carved into my soul. This time, I'm proving that I'm strong—fearless. That I'm not going to let people walk all over me and treat me like I'm less than human because of my shitty upbringing.
I'm not going to accept that I deserved what I got because I never had a voice or the ability to take control of my own life.
"Interesting," he murmurs, but I can't help but feel it's a remark to himself rather than me.
I laugh dryly. "Are we going to pretend that my newfound attitude is a result of a medical breakthrough ?" I scoff, referring to the torture I endured downstairs in the so-called name of science. "Another reason to pretend people like you are better than the patients here. Because if you truly believe that, then I'd ask for a refund on your tuition."
It falls silent for a few seconds, the two of us in a heated battle with our eyes. I refuse to look away, refuse to cower.
I wait for him to deny it, to feign innocence. But apparently, I've hit him when it hurts—his pride.
"I don't expect non-professionals to understand the significance of medical research," he starts, annoyed. "Best you don't try to speak about things you don't know."
"And people who have never suffered should not be a voice for those who have," I spit back. "Your textbooks might be able to list criteria to diagnose someone, but have you ever actually been through what any of us have? Do you understand on a physical and mental level what it is like to spend your life just surviving? You might understand the symptoms on paper but guess what? Every single person here is more qualified than you to understand the actual symptoms. So, don't speak to me as if I don't know what I'm talking about. I've been through more in one week than you will in ten lifetimes."
There's a tension in the air lingering. An invisible cord between us, the two of us playing mental tug-of-war.
"It's because of me that people like you actually have a chance at healing," he says with superiority. "Without us, you'd be lost to your symptoms. You cannot think or behave rationally, which is why you all murdered people. Normal people don't kill others."
"Here's the thing, William ," I reply casually, crossing my legs. "While a good psychiatrist might be able to argue that point, it's moot for you. Because you are neither good nor a doctor. The truth is the people who had their lives ended deserved it. And before you say they didn't or there were other avenues, that might be true—except for the fact that people like you failed us. We were forced to regress back into animals, centuries behind where we should be, just to survive. In this day and age, it shouldn't be a case of ' kill or be killed '. But that's our reality. That's our story."
His eyes narrow on me, but I don't back down.
"I never wanted to kill my father," I state, noticing that my voice shakes slightly despite the unusual feeling of strength flowing through my veins. "I tried to take the other direction, choosing to end my own life to escape a lifetime of pain and torture. But while I never intended for him to be caught in the crossfire, I know, without a doubt, that if he didn't die that day and we had both survived, I'd be dead now. His hands would have been the reason I cease to exist. A parent should love and protect, but I didn't get that luxury. So why is it that I'm being punished for trying to escape hell? Why am I being punished for his abuse?"
Pausing, I stand up straight, glaring down at him behind his desk.
"You can paint me as a monster all you like. In a way, I am. But for someone that took an oath to help people, you torture victims—the very ones you swore to save. So, if I'm a monster, Dr. Elsher , then what are you ?"
Without waiting for a reply, I head to the door, pulling it open. Immediately, I spot Damon, Grey, and Theo in the hallway, their eyes snapping to me as they stiffen with worry and anger. Looking back over my shoulder, I notice Dr. Elsher standing behind his desk now, glaring at me with loathing.
"Consider this my resignation from your sessions. Tell Whittingham to put me back with Dr. Smith. And if you're going to tell him we're the big, bad monsters in this place, then be sure to remind him that you all created us. It's our fucking turn now, Doctor . And unless you want us to ravage this fucking place to the ground, I'd remember just what we are capable of… with the right motivation."