The Torment

Three

A series of church bells rang as a young girl stepped out, holding an old woman by the arm, both wearing black.

Funeral dresses.

A small crowd of people coming out of the church looked at them with pity, enraging the old woman with the girl who finally snapped.

"Keep those darn sorry looks to yourself. There was no one for my Erick. No one!" She cried as the crowd parted and disappeared. The young girl held her grandmother tightly who yanked her hand back from the girl.

"And you, you brought this curse upon us, child. I wish Erick would have buried you with your wench of a mother" The old woman spat before turning to a carriage. The girl, appalled at her grandmother's words, waved away her sorrow and followed her grandmother into the carriage.

At home, things didn't get any better. The old woman grew weaker with every passing time, bills went unpaid and the possibility of a bright future vanished for the girl. A small cottage that stunk of death and an older sick woman cursing the girl didn't help much. Most of the girl's income went away for the older woman's medicines, leaving just barely enough money to purchase bread.

It all went on for months until the girl decided that she couldn't hold it in anymore and that's when she purchased her first pack of powder- a cheap trick to ease her mind and blur all the chaos around her.

"And you thought that would solve all your problems?" Clinton asked with a frown.

"It was a fine escape" I swallowed the lump in my throat with a small smile.

"Hm? Look where that fine escape got you." He stared at me with sheer disappointment.

"Oh, that didn't bring me here" I answered with a laugh. I sure was going insane.

"Then what did?"

"For as long as I took the drugs, it was all cakes and ale, until I met him. My dad. Twelve months after his death" I smiled at Clinton and his face fell pale.

"I know meeting a dead loved one might sound like a lively reunion and it was........ until he wanted me dead. I might've thrown a knife at the old man but he vanished right before it hit him and the woman called the cops on me. Long story short, I was arrested for attempted murder and the cops interviewed me, passed me for an insane person and here I am" I explained with a shrug. Before I could react, Clinton pulled me in a hard embrace.

"I'm sorry, for everything" He spoke and I kept myself from crying.

"Miss Arahood?" I heard a knock at my door and Clinton pulled back before ducking near my bed. The door opened to reveal a blonde woman, wearing a white overall with her hair tucked into a low bun.

"You have an appointment with me, please accompany us to the conservatory" She smiled before two guards appeared and gripped me by either arms.

"What are you- Let me go!" I shouted. They dragged me into the conservatory where two more patients stood, also held by guards. The bald man from earlier, a woman with brown hair in her thirties and a young girl.

"I hope you three shall be cooperative and not propel us to use harsh means" The doctor smiled viciously.

"Previously, you three have been seen walking out of the conservatory at odd hours, now would any of you please, explain this?" She gestured towards a canvas.

The painting of the woman that I made.

"Which one of you did this?" The doctor asked.

"I didn't, I promise, I can't even paint. You're falsely accusing us!" The woman in her fifties shouted as one of the guards slapped her.

"Silence" The doctor shouted and I winced, catching her attention.

"The hallucinating girl" She smirked. "Did you do this?" She asked and then gripped my hair, making me scream.

"Hey doc-"

"I said quiet!" She shouted at the guard who had tried to speak. The guard pointed towards the painting while it was surrounded by high yellow flames.

Fire.

"The extinguisher! Hurry!. Get them back to their rooms, we'll deal with 'em later" The doctor let go of my hair with a yank and I felt a guard grip my hand and guide me out of the room. I was led back to my room gently this time and the guard kept glancing at me.

"This shouldn't be happening to you" The guard spoke, running a hand through his dishevelled beard.

"Thanks for the concern" I stated in a dull tone.

"No one deserves to be subjected to such barbarism" He sounded furious.

"So you believe they do it?" I asked curiously.

"What?"

"The torture-"

"Don't talk about it aloud" He cut me off abruptly, glancing around. "Meet me at the library later, I'll tell you what you need to know"

"An asylum guard giving away the darkest secrets, unbothered about losing his job, what's the catch?" I asked, raising a brow. There just had to be a price for this secret, no man here could give it all away for free, let alone risking his life for it. And if this man ought to expose the tortures, then he'd be as good as dead even before stepping his foot out.

"There is no catch"

"Impossible" I narrowed my eyes on him.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, Arahood, just make it out alive" He spoke.

"I- Who are you?" I asked.

"Patrick Arahood" He stated. Uncle Patrick.

"But nana told me that you were-"

"Dead, I faked it. She fancied Erick over me and kicked me out shortly after dad passed away. Erick and I stayed in touch and he often told me how she was making things hard for him. I brought him here to a trusted therapist but things.....didn't end up well" He trailed off.

"You saw dad die" I accused.

"They sent me away for a week and when I came back, he was gone. They were about to kick me out when I urged them that I didn't care about my brother. That the jealousy building up in me over all those years was well-fed now" He explained, lowering his gaze.

"And yet, you have the nerve to say it all to my face" I fumed.

"No, I came here because I know you're here for answers, we both are" He stated.

"How do I know that I'm not going to end up like my father?" I queried, shooting daggers at him from my eyes.

"Because, regret is stronger than gratitude. Let me help you, Muriel" His voice was convincing enough and I nodded slightly. He stared at me for a while before nodding and heading out of the door.

"You're okay?" Clinton asked, emerging from behind the bed and I nodded.

"I think we might have a lead," I replied.