Page 12 of Heal Me

I make quick work of changing into sweatpants, then open the door and wave at Rex. “Come on. Let’s go run this shit off.”

10

LAVINIA

When Dorin comes to my cell with a bowl of breakfast the next day, I have gained some more perspective and realized just how fucked up everything that happened yesterday is. It’s just a matter of time before Dorin will take advantage of the situation and force himself upon me, and I have to do whatever I can to prevent it.

“I want to see the doctor in charge,” I say, sitting up straight to feel more assertive.

He doesn’t even answer as he comes to stand before me.

I try not to let his intimidating size and terrifyingly cold gaze deter me, but keeping my spine straight beneath him is impossible as I speak again. “I’ll tell someone what you did.”

He lifts a brow and huffs, but I refuse to give up this easily.

“You can’t do this, it’s il—”

“It’s illegal?” he cuts me off. “Immoral, wrong, and all that shit. Is that what you’re gonna say?”

Gulping, I nod.

His jaw ticks as he crouches in front of me, sets the bowl on the floor, and grabs my chin. “You might not like the kind of therapy we offer here, but it’s the only fucking one you’re getting.”

“I don’t want it. I never consented to any of this.”

“Do you really think your consent matters?”

“I don’t care, just let me out of here.”

“Do you?” he demands, raising his voice as he digs his fingers into my jaw.

“Yes. I mean. No,” I blurt, and fuck, that last word hurts. Because, of course, it doesn’t. He gained the right to override my consent the moment I slit my wrists and became a danger to myself. “But that doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want. It’s not right what you did yesterday.”

Leaning closer, he says, “Like I told you, that’s the way we do things around here.” Then he releases me.

But I’m not half done. “I want to speak to your supervisor.”

Ignoring my stubbornness, he scoops up a spoonful of porridge and holds it to my mouth. “Eat.”

“Not until you let me talk to someone in charge.”

Grabbing the top of my head with his huge hand, he holds me in place as he presses the spoon to my mouth, smearing porridge onto my lips as I refuse to part them. His cruel force is so humiliating that I throw up my hands and push at his arm, making the spoon fly to the side, porridge spattering over the padded floor.

“Goddammit,” he growls and snatches my wrist in a bruising grip.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me,” I squeal, clawing at his fingers.

He simply grabs my other hand too and gathers them in one big hand that easily encompasses both my slender wrists. I struggle to get free, but it’s useless as he lowers my arms toward the mattress, twisting them into an awkward angle that hurts at the slightest movement.

Using his free hand, he takes his phone from his pocket and calls someone. “Get me a straitjacket,” he orders. The person on the line asks something, and Dorin answers, “Number one.” He’s about to put the phone down, but adds, “Andall the gear to go along with it.”

“Let me go,” I beg as we wait. “You’re hurting me.”

Dorin is unyielding, keeping me in the strained position until an orderly comes rushing with a pile of things that he sets on the floor beside Dorin before scurrying off again. The way he keeps his eyes averted and hurries off makes me think he’s afraid of Dorin. But before I can process the notion, Dorin has my right arm stretched out, shoving it into a white sleeve. A new sort of urgency drives me into a frenzy as my fingers end up in a closed sleeve.A straitjacket.

“No!” I yell, refusing to take this humiliation. The full brunt of being at a mental facility is finally catching up to me. I might have attempted suicide, but I’m not crazy. I’m not so out of my mind that I’d bang my head against the wall or claw at my own skin. They don’t need to keep me in a padded cell. They don’t need to give me fucked-up electrotherapy, and they certainly don’t need to put me in a straitjacket.

Tugging at my arm, I try to pull out of the sleeve, but Dorin is strong. Terrifyingly so. I’m a mouse caught in the claws of a lion as he forces my left arm into the other sleeve. Within seconds, he has the thing on me and shoves me to my stomach. Humiliation unlike any I’ve ever experienced claws at my insides as I flail without gaining anything.

---