Page 46 of Brainwashed
I feel my heart rate increasing as he walks into the room, and it’s embarrassing because the beeping on the monitor speeds up considerably. My cheeks burn as he looks me over, saying nothing, simply standing off to the side.
Johansson begins his usual blathering. “This is Dr. Jarvis Johansson, Dr. Kenneth Templeton, and Abel Figueroa…” His eyes dart to Dr. Love, who shakes his head subtly. “Examining patient Felix Harmon Darcey. Today’s experiment is visual stimulation.”
Visual…?
It’s then that I notice the white screen for the slide projector across the room is lit up. It’s the same one they used to show me those fucked up videos the other day…Maybe that’s what they’re going to do again?
Templeton moves over to the projector and fiddles with it. I’m curious about what they plan on doing… And I wouldn’t admit it, but this whole thing makes me nervous, more so because of the presence of a certain drop-dead gorgeous doctor…
Templeton presses a button. Something clicks onto the screen. It’s a picture of my mother.
My brows furrow instantly.What the hell…?
He leaves it up for a few generous seconds before clicking again, onto a picture of my father. Then one of my parents together.
“What is this…” I mumble, confused by what’s supposed to be happening.What are they expecting me to do?
Of course, no one answers me.Click. Next up is a picture of a dead cat. The thing has been sliced open at the stomach, and its guts are hanging out.
My pulse picks up as I bite the inside of my cheek, eyes darting to Dr. Love. He’s just standing there with his arms crossed, watching me closely. Emotionless face stone still.
Click.The next picture is of Isaac, and my heart races.Okay, what the hell?
I jerk against the restraints. “What’s the point of this?”
Click.No…It’s a picture of Emmanuel. My stomach drops and I whimper.Baby…
Only a few seconds and it’s replaced by a picture of Emmanuel after they found him.
My chin drops and wobbles.He still looks so sad…
This one stays up for a hot minute. They aren’t prying my eyes open like last time, but still, I can’t close them or look away. That’shim, right there.
My first victim. And one of the great loves of my life.I think.
“He wasn’t supposed to be sad…” I mumble, shaking my head because I just want to get out of these goddamn restraints. “Put him back.”
The next picture is of Eric Miller. Number six.
My heart is bounding, the beeps climbing steadily, echoing off the walls as Eric’s alive picture is replaced by the picture of how he was found.
I bite my lip. His face is barely recognizable.
My mind flashes through images like its own slide projector…Eric beneath me. The feeling of his body around mine… The widening of his eyes as I strangled him to death with my bare hands…
My twitching becomes frantic as I jerk against the restraints. Glancing up at Dr. Love again, I find he’s still just observing. Staring at me, absorbed.Because he isn’t afraid of me. He doesn’t fearThe Carver. He’s not watching me like I’m despicable, a monster locked up in chains.
He thinks I’minteresting…
Click.A picture of Tom Kline is in front of me, and a bubble of laughter erupts from my throat. Then Travis John. I’mgigglinguncontrollably.
All of them, so different, each with their own stories to tell, even now that they’re gone.Especiallynow.
Leon, Kris, Harrison…
Blood splashes and rushes and drips. My blade slices through flesh, my muscles strain, and my teeth grind.
Oskar, Glenn, Rudy.
