Chapter 12 Ginny
TWELVE
GINNY
The air in the corridor shifted, as if some monster inhaled in the darkness.
I should have been in bed, but the night orderly hadn’t locked us in. While the others lay either sleeping or sedated, I traced my way through the halls. The corridor stretched long and dim, like a great spine that splintered off into a series of rooms and smaller corridors.
No one else shifted in the dead of night. I often walked the corridors in the early hours, searching, hiding, escaping.
But there was no escape.
Wellard had snared me, and it was becoming clearer and clearer that it had no intention of letting me go.
Strip lights spluttered overhead, like the dying gasp of the asylum. Some had faded to black. Others buzzed loudly, like the fields at night back home.
Walking through the area shadowed in black made the hairs on my arms rise until I scurried forward back into a pool of blue-white light.
Damp stained the plaster walls, paint blistering and peeling in ragged strips. It scratched at my sore fingers, but the pain made me feel alive. Reminded me that this was all real, not some terrible dream.
A sour smell cloyed in the air, hitting the back of my throat with every shallow breath. Disinfectant. Piss. Rot.
Screams reverberated from beyond the locked door, which led downward, into the festering depths. Distant yet loud enough to send a chill running down my spine.
I faltered, my slippers catching on torn linoleum.
Keep moving.
The urge to get back to bed, to trap myself between the thin scratchy blanket, washed over me.
Each step was slow, though. My belly grew so fat and ripe that it seemed to deposit my baby right between my thighs.
I turned a corner, counting my heartbeats to keep me sane.
A figure huddled at the far end of the corridor, rocking back and forth in the dim light. His tortured face tipped upward as I neared, eyes glassy and staring at something beyond me in the dark. A long moan dribbled from his mouth, a handful of broken teeth marking his open mouth.
I passed with a shudder, the wall pressing against my back as I prayed he wouldn’t lurch at me.
My steps echoed in the hall, muffled, not crisp, and the sound made it seem half a dozen others walked around me. I turned, but there was nothing but the groaning man.
But prickles crawled up my spine with every ragged breath I took, the footsteps ricocheting through the halls. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following me.
Watching me.
My neck heated as I spun around, eyes darting from one dark spot to another, trying to find the source of my unease.
But the whole asylum was thick with unease.
My skin crawled with it.
My heart battered at my ribs, like the hooves of thundering cattle. The echo of footsteps was out of sync with my own.
More than an echo.
I quickened my pace, holding my stomach up with my hands to stop the pregnancy waddle.
Mottled wallpaper and cracked edges passed me as I panted.
Run.
I bolted, losing my slippers as I fumbled. My feet slapped loudly on the linoleum as panic surged. By the time I reached my ward, I was sobbing.
But I wasn’t safe.
The moment I collapsed on my bed, a weight pressed down on me. Pinning me to the mattress. I couldn’t see who it was, but hands pushed into my hair.
‘No, please don’t!’ I thrashed and flailed against my unseen attacker. My writhing didn’t unseat the oppressive weight on my back.
Then the tearing began.
Fingers clawed through my hair, jerking my head back. Strands yanked tight against my scalp. A blistering pain across my temple made me cry out as something sharp bit into my skin.
Into my hands.
‘Stop! Stop it!’ My ears rang as the pain made me whimper. I fought, but the tearing only grew harsher, more frenzied. I felt a jagged scrape along my neck, warm wetness spilling over my pillow.
Clumps of hair fell around my face, sticking to my bloodied skin as I thrashed. I tried to claw the hands away, but couldn’t grip them from my position facedown on the pillow. Instead, all I caught were sharp splinters biting into my skin.
Pain.
Fear.
And someone holding me down.