Page 122 of Sin Like the Devil

They all share a laugh.

Fuck you, Professor, I respond mentally.

“Patient Three failed to complete a recent assignment for the corporation.” Harrison snaps the cuffs into place. “We don’t tolerate such failure in Harrowdean.”

A hand slapped over my mouth, I watch in horror as he drags her around the filthy cell by the chains connecting the two halves of the cuffs together. She howls in agony until eventually, she passes out.

Harrison drops her unconscious body like she’s trash to be discarded. He then proceeds to boot her in the stomach for good measure, verifying that she’s unconscious.

“How dull.”

“Should’ve paced yourself,” Elon snickers.

“She’s proven to be a resilient one. But no matter.” Harrison shrugs indifferently. “They break all the same.”

A throat clears. “Gentlemen. You’re keeping us waiting.”

Still holding me prone, Elon spins us both to face the scowl I know awaits. I’d recognise the warden’s voice anywhere. Here I was, thinking he kept his hands clean and didn’t get involved in this side of the business.

“Ah, Miss Bennet.” He flashes a PR-perfect smile. “So good of you to join us.”

Frozen by terror, I can’t make my tongue move to form a response. All I can see is the patient being dragged around her cell, leaving a trail of blood.

Davis tuts like I’m a mannerless schoolchild. “So quiet now, eh? Let’s take this elsewhere. The professor has work to be getting on with. Harrison, Patient Five is prepped and ready for you both.”

“Sir.” Harrison bobs his head.

Moving his hands to my shoulders, Elon pushes me away from the two men watching me like I’m some delicious delicacy to be consumed. With wobbly legs, we follow Davis to the bottom of the corridor.

I don’t dare look over my shoulder at whatever Harrison does to that poor woman next. I can hear him talking to Craven, the pair exchanging light-hearted conversation as they continue to inflict a brutal atrocity.

Through another door, we enter a hallway housing several different offshoots. A glimpse into the first room is enough to turn my mouth into sandpaper. I quickly look away and focus on the warden’s footsteps.

“Don’t fancy a trip in there?” Elon goads. “The submersion tanks aren’t so bad once you learn to function on ten percent oxygen. The lungs quickly adjust.”

Fear like I’ve never felt before coils around my lungs. Those huge, two-metre glass tanks were full of murky water and sealed tight with barred lids. It doesn’t take a genius to imagine what floats inside. I doubt they’ve ever been emptied or cleaned.

The next room, to my relief, is an office. But instead of Davis’s name on the door, it boasts the initials SJB. I’m led inside and roughly deposited in a dark-brown leather, wingback chair.

“No funny business,” Elon warns, a deliberate hand on the taser attached to his belt. “I’ll happily fry you.”

“Now, now.” A regal voice emanates from the chair behind the desk. “There will be no need for such unpleasantries. Will there, Ripley?”

With Davis settling in the corner of the office, I’m left to face the elderly figure who turns in the office chair. It takes a moment for me to place his coiffed, silvery hair, wrinkle-lined jowls and lizard-like eyes.

When I transferred to Harrowdean, I made it my mission to understand the truth behind the world I’d entered. It wasn’t hard to find the face behind the program. Sir Joseph Bancroft II has a spotless reputation.

Richer than God and arguably more powerful, Bancroft owns a portfolio of companies across the globe. His pride and joy, the infamous Incendia Corporation, has its finger in many pies.

Psychiatric institutes. Private schools.

International conglomerates.

Even… investment firms.

I knew I recognised him when the first news articles popped up detailing his philanthropic work and various charitable endeavours. On the rare occasions when my uncle remembered my existence, he did play the orphaned niece card to his advantage.

As a result, I attended a handful of events put on by his firm over the years. Smile and wave, right? I even met his boss. Not the guy running the daily board meetings and doling out redundancies, but the real boss. The one behind the board of directors.

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