Unwell (Wellard Asylum #13)

Chapter 1 Nancy

ONE

NANCY

The scrape of metal on ceramic made my stomach clench. I dabbed at the sticky sweat already gathering along my hairline and sighed. Robert looked up from his plate of congealing eggs and lifted a brow.

‘When is this damned summer going to end?’ Folding my napkin over, I pressed a dry side to my forehead. ‘It’s hotter than the devil’s oven and it’s not even eight o’clock.’

Robert turned his newspaper to the next page, crumpling it at the edges with a tight grip.

‘Half the houses on our block have air conditioning. When can we get it?’ Despite the two of us working, Robert made all the major home decisions. I needed to nag, beg, or debase myself to get any say.

‘We can’t afford it. We’ll be down to my wage alone when a baby sticks.’

His sharp words pierced me. I knew he meant well, but my inability to stay pregnant wore on us both. I picked up my plate without another word, fighting back the stinging behind my eyes and dumping it into the sink.

Beyond the window, lined with curling paint-peeled wood, our neighbour Angela stood on her doorstep.

Younger than me. Far prettier than me. More fertile than me.

She waved her older son off onto the school bus, her chubby-faced toddler filling her arms. I knew jealousy poisoned the soul, but I couldn’t fight its grip.

I wanted her life so badly.

Why not me?

Hell, she even had air conditioning.

Bitch.

Guilt bit at the thought. She wasn’t a bitch. Envy reared hot and heavy, but I couldn’t blame her. She’d fallen pregnant before they were even married, and there I stood, nearly a decade in, with nothing to show for it.

A failure.

Robert’s arms snaked around my waist, pulling me flush to him. I was too sweaty and sticky for contact, but he sulked if I pushed him off, and I didn’t have the patience to extract him from a mood on the way to work.

A gust of wind hit the side of the house, blowing dust in through the cracked window, and scattering it like muddy pepper over my clean dishes.

‘We need to get the window fixed,’ I said as one of Robert’s hands slid up to cup a breast. I wriggled back, attempting to slide out from my trapped position. His fingers tightened, making me wince as pain twisted in my chest.

‘The window can wait. I say we get to practicin’ the baby-making.’ He rucked up my uniform, sliding eager hands between my thighs and unseating my underwear.

‘Robert…It’s too hot. I don’t want to go to work all sweaty.’ Despite my denial, he found the spot that made my knees weaken. He’d always known how to turn my not right now into a yes.

‘It’s been a few weeks, Nancy. I need you.’

The plea in his voice crumbled my defences. When a light moan slipped from my lips, he unbuttoned his trousers and hauled my dress high. Yanking my panties to the side, he pushed inside me before I could catch a breath.

My hips smacked into the edge of the sink with each harsh rut, his fingers slackening between my thighs as his strokes became more erratic. Harder. Desperate.

‘Robert,’ I moaned, grabbing his hand in mine and pushing it back to where I needed him.

‘Almost done,’ he panted, his breath hot on my neck.

‘Slow down.’ I replaced his fingers with my own, racing to get my pleasure before he finished.

‘Shh,’ he grunted, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me further over the sink. I pressed both of my hands into the soapy water, trying to steady myself. ‘Be a good girl and hold on to the sink. We don’t have time for this to be slow.’

Anger warred with bliss as he fucked me rough, water splashing with each ragged jerk of my body. I pressed one arm between my hips and the sink, ignoring the soap and water dripping to the floor. When Robert thrust, my arm caught the sharp edge of the counter and I let out a cry.

‘Damn, there already? Abstinence got you comin’ like a little whore.’

‘It’s not tha—‘ Robert didn’t hear my protest. With another sharp jab of his hips, he pinned me tight, groaning in my ear as his muscles clenched.

Too late.

Again.

Sometimes I wondered if we’d have more success in getting pregnant if I got to enjoy it too. I bet Angela did.

We stood there for a moment, Robert half slumped over my back, breathing heavily while I bit back the burn of tears. As much as I loved my husband, most of the time, I wanted to slap him upside the head and beat some sense into him.

‘There you go, doll. Now you can go to work with my cum all up inside you. Who knows, you might be pregnant by sundown.’

He withdrew with a clearing of his throat and a spank on my ass, a gush of warmth seeping between my thighs. Heat flushed my cheeks as I stood, pulling my wet dress over my legs.

‘I’m going to change,’ I muttered, heading for the bedroom.

‘Well, hurry up. We’re running late as it is.’

My nails dug into my palm with little moon-shaped bites. The pain eased my desire to cuss Robert out.

Selfish prick.

Silence filled the car for the twenty minutes it took us to get to Wellard Asylum.

Despite the beating sun, a pervasive darkness settled over the car as we approached the crumbling building. Overgrown trees reached over the driveway, knotting their branches to blot out the sunlight.

Glancing at Robert, I noted the relaxed way he chewed a matchstick, bobbing his head to the steel guitar leaking from the radio.

The mournful voice, lamenting all the ways his woman had troubled him.

Would Robert go into work telling the other doctors about his morning conquest?

I’d heard often enough how the doctors talk about women, and I was under no illusion working there would exclude me from their disgusting chat.

Heck, my being a staff member would make it more fun.

Wellard ran on money. Profit drove decisions, not the welfare of the poor souls in there.

I hated my job.

Despised it.

Every year I said it was my last. Longed for the day I could give it all up and never have to set foot inside its corrupt walls ever again.

Robert often parroted my sentiments, but he always lacked conviction in his words.

I tried not to focus on that too much. If I allowed myself to fall down that rabbit hole; I feared never being able to escape the truths I uncovered.

What if my husband descended into the horrendous acts the other doctors at Wellard enjoyed?

No.

He wasn’t like them.

We met as baby-faced teens, and he’d always wanted to help people. The kind of man who’d stop the car to escort an old lady across the street. Though he hadn’t done anything like that for a while. One of the good guys. We were working at Wellard out of necessity only.

The heavy metal gate swung open as we approached, squealing with reluctance. Like it wanted to keep us trapped with the inmates.

Uneasiness settled deep in my bones, weighing me down with a thousand tiny, disturbing anchors.

No wonder I couldn’t grow a baby. Working there instilled a pervasive rot that destroyed from within.

A hostile environment.

A hostile womb.