If These Walls Could Talk (American Horror Story Asylum FanFic)

Chapter 15

My eyes peeked out from between the curtains at Oliver's parked car in the driveway.

"It's so surreal." I said.

"What is?"

I closed the curtains and turned back to look at the living room. "The fact that I just looked through a window without any bars over it."

I laughed and spun around in a circle, dropping down onto the loveseat.

Oliver laughed and walked out of the room as he loosened his tie. "Would you care for a drink? I'm desperate for something on the rocks."

"No thank you."

I leaned back and looked over to my right, at the lamp on the side table.

What an odd looking shade.

I reached towards it, running my fingers along the large stitches in the fabric. The texture of it felt like leather, with the colour being dark beige. The stitches were all over it, like the fabric had once been patches.

I started to feel a tightening of my gut, like something was very, very wrong.

My hands slightly shook as I pushed myself up from the couch and took a good look around me at the living room I stood in.

On the table in between the couches was a white bowl filled with mints. I picked it up and took a good look at it. There were thin cracks running along various areas of the bowl, like...a skull.

I quickly put it back down, my breathing coming out faster.

"Oliver?" I called out.

"Yes?" he answered from the kitchen.

"Where's your bathroom? I want to freshen up."

"It's straight down the hall."

"Thank you!"

I struggled to keep my feet steady so I didn't run straight out of the house and into the street. I would just end up right back at the asylum and at the moment, I didn't know for sure if Oliver was something other than a therapist.

My hands shook as I attempted to open each door in the hall, hoping that one of the rooms would have a telephone I could use to call someone.

I went through three doors before I finally found one that could open.

I rushed in and even in the darkness, felt how small the room was. My hands reached out to feel for a light but instead they knocked against something on the wall, making a light clacking sound. I froze and my heart sped up.

Then, the light flicked on.

I looked up to see Oliver standing in the doorway, a glass in his hand filled with dark liquid and ice. "I see you've found my craft room."

My eyes flew over everything. From the upper torso of someone's skeleton hanging on the wall, to the large pieces of fabric that strongly resembled the same I had seen on the lamp from the living room.

My voice shook. "You make furniture. Out of...dead people?"

"It's called recycling. Nothing wrong with it. I can't wait to hear about what everyone else thinks, once you write my story."

"Your story?"

"Yes. Now, I'm tired and in no mood for company just right now. I'll see you later, Freya."

He reached under the counter and I heard the flick of a switch.

"What are you-"

I was cut off by the floor opening up beneath me, and my body quickly falling through it.

***

I woke up on a cold, hard floor.

My whole body ached when I lifted myself up and cracked open my eyes.

The floor beneath me was white tile, like a bathroom. But I knew I was in a basement from seeing a set of stairs in a corner of the room. Various knives were hung up on the walls, all gleaming and silver.

My mouth opened and my dry lips cracked open. "Help!!! Help!!"

I moved back and knocked against something cold on the floor. I turned around and backed away from it.

No...no...

I moved closer to the body on the floor. Its back was to me but I recognized the housecoat it had on. I just hoped it wasn't who I thought it was.

"Annabelle?"

My hand grabbed the shoulder of the body and flipped it towards me so it rolled onto its back. Annabelle's unseeing eyes faced towards the ceiling.

I screamed and hurriedly dragged myself away from her corpse, bumping into the large freezer and making the lid of it close with a bang.

"I was hoping that she would've fully thawed out by the time you woke up."

My head whipped around the room, trying to determine where Oliver's voice was coming from. "What did you do to her?!"

"I kept her fresh for you."

He walked out from behind a plastic curtain, off to my right.

I sobbed in response and he continued speaking.

"Normally she would have been furniture by now. Maybe a nice footstool. But, I opted to keep her in the freezer."

He kneeled down and prodded at her face, then looked up at me.

"I want to continue your conversion therapy Freya. This time, with a different approach."

Getting back up he turned so he had his back to me.

"I want you to kiss her. Kiss your lover, Freya."

My lungs rattled when I heaved in a deep breath. "Fuck. You."

He chuckled and turned back towards me as he pulled on something over his face.

It was a mask, with the same large stitches and pieces of skin I saw on the lamp. But this time, they were bloody. He had eyeholes and a crudely shaped opening for his mouth, with over a dozen teeth haphazardly sewn on.

"It's you. You're Bloody Face."

Oliver clapped his hands together. "You've finally figured it out Freya!"

"Kit's innocent! He's stuck in that place while you're on the outside! Murdering more women!"

I tried to get up but he had put on a short chain and steel bracelet around my ankle. I could only go as far as a few feet.

"It wasn't that difficult, to place the blame on a stupid gas attendant like Kit Walker. It was even less difficult to convince him to confess to murders he didn't commit. I'm sure he's already sitting in a jail cell right now."

"No!!"

I covered my face with my hands, guilt wracking my body.

I've let everyone down. And now look where I am. Chained up. And Annabelle...my precious Annabelle is dead because of me!

"You won't get away with this." I whispered.

"But that's the thing, Freya. I already have."