The patients of Green Valley Asylum

Pet Project

It was a stormy night when Marcus slipped through the gates of Green Valley Asylum, his heart pounding with the thrill of freedom. The rain washed away the grime of confinement, and the world outside was a dark, alluring mystery. Marcus had been planning his escape for months, driven by a singular, twisted desire: he wanted a puppy. Not just any puppy—a human one.

His footsteps echoed through the empty streets as he made his way to the suburbs. Marcus had been meticulous in his research, memorizing the routines of potential candidates. He needed someone weak, someone who wouldn't be missed right away. And tonight, he had found the perfect target.

Liam was a solitary teenager, living alone in a modest house at the edge of town. He was quiet, kept to himself, and rarely interacted with others. Marcus had watched him for weeks, studying his habits and routines. He was perfect.

Marcus waited until the lights went out before making his move. He picked the lock with practiced ease and slipped inside, his wet shoes leaving muddy footprints on the carpet. The house was eerily quiet, save for the ticking of a clock in the living room. Marcus crept up the stairs, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Liam was asleep, his face serene in the dim light. Marcus moved quickly, clamping a chloroform-soaked rag over his mouth and nose. Liam struggled for a moment, but the drug took effect quickly, and his body went limp.

Marcus carried him to the basement, where he had prepared a makeshift kennel. The room was lined with soft blankets and filled with toys—a perverse mimicry of a loving environment. He laid Liam down gently, securing his wrists and ankles with padded cuffs.

When Liam woke, he was groggy and disoriented. His eyes widened in fear as he took in his surroundings, and he began to struggle against his restraints. Marcus watched from the shadows, a smile playing on his lips.

"Shhh," he cooed, stepping into the light. "You're safe now, little puppy."

Liam's eyes filled with terror as he recognized Marcus from the news reports—the escaped asylum patient, the man they had warned everyone about. He tried to scream, but the gag muffled his cries.

Marcus knelt beside him, stroking his hair with a twisted tenderness. "Don't be afraid. I'll take good care of you."

Days turned into weeks as Marcus conditioned Liam to his new role. He fed him by hand, bathed him, and even took him for walks around the basement on a leash. Liam's spirit was resilient, but the constant psychological torment wore him down. Marcus was patient, savoring every moment of his descent into submission.

One day, as Marcus prepared Liam's breakfast, the boy looked up at him with hollow eyes. He had stopped struggling, stopped trying to escape. Marcus felt a surge of triumph—he was finally his, truly his.

"Good boy," Marcus whispered, placing the bowl of food at Liam's feet. "Such a good little puppy."

But even in his broken state, a flicker of defiance remained in Liam's eyes. He would bide his time, waiting for the right moment to reclaim his humanity. And one day, he would make sure Marcus paid for every twisted act of kindness he had bestowed upon him.

For now, though, Liam played along, letting him believe he had won. Because in the darkest corners of the basement, hope still flickered, and Liam knew that even the most twisted chains could be broken.

---

The basement had grown colder, and Liam's hope had begun to dwindle. Marcus had become increasingly complacent, believing his grip on Liam was unbreakable. What Marcus didn't realize was that the missing boy's disappearance had finally raised alarms.