The Torment

Ten

"Miss, Arahood, how would you explain your experience at the Asylum?"

"Are the charges against Doctor Freeman for medical malpractice accurate?"

I could feel my head spin with questions and maybe from the scorching winter sun. Surrounded by thousands of journalists and news reporters, I felt panic rising in my throat.

"I..I-"

"Excuse me, make way" My lawyer cut me off before I could speak. Kira was a woman in her late thirties with a short bob and sharp black eyes and she took up my case right after the news about the asylum spread out. Thankful for her presence, I made my way out of the crowd and towards a black SUV.

I stayed quiet through the ride, knowing exactly where we're going, anxiety gnawing at my throat. I gripped the roses in my hand tightly, letting the thorns prick my fingers. Kira gave me a sad look but didn't talk about it either, until we reached the funeral house. Among thousands of people dressed in black, I made my way towards the coffin, towards Patrick.

A tear left my eye at the sight of his distorted body wrapped up in white bandages and I placed the roses on his coffin, bowing my head in respect. As the coffin was being carried to the graveyard, Kira informed me that the rest of the patients were going to get trauma-therapy. But most of them, as I'd feared, were normal people, forced to act insane.

Shortly after the funeral, the part of the day came that I dreaded the most. I tried to get it all out of my head, to convince myself that Clinton was dead, but I couldn't and it was time.

To demolish the Asylum.

A crowd of people gathered in front of the asylum, journalists, police officers, lawyers and other residents, waiting for the building of hell to fall. Demolition cranes were brought into the area, loud workers shouting orders at one another.

"Wait!" I shouted before stepping in front of one of the cranes.

"It's dangerous to be here, please move" One of the workers shouted over the noise of the angry engines.

"I forgot something in that building! Give me five minutes, I'll be right back!" I lied and could hear loud groans from everyone.

"You have two minutes!" The worker replied and I silently thanked him before bolting into the building. I passed open doors in the corridor and the library, heading for my room.

"Clinton!" I shouted. "Come out, Clinton!" I shouted again. To my dismay, no one answered back, not a single soul in sight.

I felt my heart wrench and felt fresh tears prick my eyes.

"I deserve a last goodbye!" I shouted again.

Nothing.

"It's unfair, at least show me if you're there!"

Not a single sound.

"I know I can't have you, but let me see you one last time!"

Silence.

"Just ... .speak..say something" I sobbed.

"Ma'am come out, please" I heard the worker shout over the microphone.

I heaved a sigh and looked around.

"That's it?! That's how you leave me?" I ask, frustratedly.

"Miss Arahood" The worker spoke again, this time his voice slightly annoyed.

"Fine" I replied, wiping my tears but they wouldn't stop flowing. Glancing at the corridor one last time, I turned to leave but my eyes landed on a piece of paper with a rose on top of my bed. Hurriedly, I grabbed them and ran out of the building, letting out ugly sobs.