Shattered Asylum

Chapter 90

All I can think about is Grayson.

His hands, his voice, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, like I was the most important thing in his world.

I try to remember his scent. The way it felt to be wrapped in his arms, tucked into his chest as he whispered soft, impossible things into my ear.

The memory is so vivid, I can almost feel it now, his fingers brushing the hair from my face, threading gently through mine. The warmth of his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart beneath my cheek.

"Aven," he whispers.

I don't even realize I'm crying until I taste salt.

"I knew you'd come," I whisper. Or maybe I just think it. My throat's too raw to tell the difference.

He kneels beside me, his face bathed in soft golden light, like he dragged the sun in here with him. His fingers ghost over my skin, gentle and sure.

"I'm here," he murmurs. "I've got you."

I want to collapse into him. Want to feel his arms around me, just once. Just long enough to forget where I am.

"Get me out," I beg. "Please, Grayson. I want to go home."

His expression shifts. Barely. But I see it.

"I can't."

My stomach drops. "Why?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, soft, lingering, full of all the things he can't say. I close my eyes, leaning into the warmth of him, his hands cradling my face like I'm something fragile.

But when I open them again, he's gone.

And everything is different.

The floor beneath me is no longer cold and sticky. I'm not bound. Not bleeding. Not in the dark.

I'm lying on something soft. A cot? Thin. Unsteady. But a bed nonetheless.

The air smells clean, almost sterile. Too clean. My hair is damp, clinging to the sides of my face. My skin tingles like it's been scrubbed raw. My throat... Not as dry. Not screaming for water like it was before.

I blink slowly, trying to sit up, my muscles protesting with every inch.

Was it real?

Did all of that actually happen?

My fingers tremble as I bring my hands into view, they're no longer tied behind my back. My ankles are free too. My wrists, though...

I suck in a breath.

The skin is torn. Bruised. Raw in places where the chains must've rubbed straight through flesh. And when I shift, I feel it, the sting across my back, my legs. The pain that no bath could wash away.

It was real.

All of it.

The blood. The screams. The pole.

I curl into myself, gripping my arms, shaking. Tears sting my eyes but refuse to fall, like even my body doesn't know how to react anymore.

They cleaned me up... Why?

What game is this?

Because it has to be a game. What else would it be?

I don't hear the door open. Just the click of heels. Uneven. Unsteady. Like someone walking with one shoe on and the other dragging.

I look up, slowly, cautiously, and my stomach turns.

It's her.

But not the version from my memories.

Not the woman who used to tuck me in with lullabies and kisses, who smelled like flowers and wore her hair in silky curls. Not the mom who had the best laugh, the brightest smile, the cutest dimples that always mesmerized everyone.

This woman?

This woman's a ghost of that.

She stumbles into the room like she's been spun in circles. Hair matted, greasy at the roots. Cheeks sunken, skin sallow and twitchy. Her arms are too thin. Her hands tremble when they hang at her sides. And her mouth...

Ugh.

Some of her teeth are gone. The rest are yellow, chipped, rotting. Her lips twitch when she sees me, like she's trying to smile but her body forgot how.

She reeks. Of sweat. Of chemicals. Of sickness.

I don't recognize her.

Not really.

And maybe that's the worst part.

"Hi baby," she slurs, wobbling a little as she walks closer. "You look... better."

I recoil as she reaches toward me, but she doesn't touch me. Just lets her fingers hover near my cheek, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

"What... what are you doing?" My voice comes out a rasp, but it's enough.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper. "Please, just let me go."

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head like I'm being silly. "You don't get it, do you?" Her voice pitches up, manic and sing-song. "None of this was supposed to happen. I told them what they wanted to hear. I did my part. I gave you them."

I blink.

She smiles, wide and wrong.

"But then your grandpa stopped paying. Cut me off. Like I didn't give him everything. Like he didn't ruin everything."

She paces a little, rubbing her face like it itches, her movements jerky and erratic. "They said they wouldn't give me anything else until he sent more money. But he won't. He's stubborn like that."

She spins, eyes wild now, voice sharp.

"So now I have to make him pay attention."

I stare at her, horror rising like bile.

"You kidnapped me... to blackmail Grandpa?"

She shrugs, almost casual. "You always were good leverage."

Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. "You used to love me."

She squints, like the words don't make sense in her head.

"Love's expensive, baby," she mutters, more to herself than to me. "You'll understand someday."

She turns to leave.

"Wait-" My voice breaks. "Please! Please don't leave me here."

But she doesn't look back.

She opens that door, light spilling in from the hallway. Her shadow cuts across the floor, long, thin, broken.

Then the door slams shut again.

And I'm alone.

Worse than before.

Because now I know.

She chose this.

She chose them.

Over me.

Comment and vote<3

I think i'm almost done with this book! I'm hoping for at least ten more chapters!

Let me know what you guys are thinking! What do you think about Avens mom?

Word Count:1029