I was desperate. I was willing to do just about anything to get out of this place. The walls reeked of age and decay and the entirety of the staff were cold hearted Christians who couldn't listen. That was except for one man. Dr. Oliver Threadson. He told me that he believed he could cure me of my homosexuality and get me out if here, in the short period of time in which he was working here, specifically to work with Kit Walker. Kit was supposedly 'Bloody Face' the monster that had skinned women alive and dispose if their bones.
I don't belong in here. That's what I've decided. I didn't kill anyone, didn't stab anyone, didn't skin anyone. I just loved someone. I'm not crazy. The journalist part of me was dying to get my hands on a piece of paper and write down all that I have seen or heard here and get it out there, shut this place down.
That's mainly the reason I agreed to work with Dr. Threadson. Not because I wanted to be cured, or even thought it would work, but because I needed to get out and this was my escape ticket.
During our first meeting, he set me up to this machine that coursed some kind of liquid substance into my body. The idea was that Dr. Threadson would show me pictures of women and send the poison into my veins that would make me throw up so that at the sight of a woman my natural reaction was to feel sick.
It wasn't to terrible for a bit until I saw her picture come on the screen. Wendy. Wendy was my partner before I got out in here and I haven't heard from her since. Sister Jude said she signed me over to here and she is ashamed of me but I didn't believe that.
"How did you get this picture?" I asked him.
"When you asked me to go over to your house and talk to Wendy, I found it."
I looked at the picture again before I nodded and the liquid coursed through my veins making me sick.
