Page 16 of Writhe
My chest rises and falls. I don’t want to give in, but I don’t have a choice. So, I close my eyes, and I let go. Theo’s arms catch me, trembling and too thin, but solid. I feel the quick pulse of his heartbeat through his shirt, the shallow hitch of his breath against my ear. I press my hands against his chest, shoving myself away. I don’t look at him.
The Doctor smiles, pleased. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” I want to claw his eyes out. “Tomorrow, we’llmove on to something more challenging.” He nods at the orderlies. “Take her back to her room.”
THE DOCTOR
Patient Files: Eliza Marlowe & Theodore Graves
Both are ideal subjects; their dynamic is already evident. Eliza is all sharp edges and resistance, and Theodore is meek, easily swayed. She thrives in defiance; he crumbles under pressure. A natural oppositional balance. The perfect conditions for control—for submission.
For reformation.
I close their files and fold my hands over my desk, watching the boy seated across from me. Theodore Graves shifts in his chair, spine slightly hunched, eyes flickering between the door and his lap. Always anxious. Always uncomfortable. Always running from something. It’s time to stop running. He needs structure. Direction. Purpose. I will give it to him.
“You performed well today, Theodore,” I begin, keeping my voice even, measured. “Catching Eliza was a crucial step in establishing trust. You did as instructed.”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “She didn’t want to do it.”
“Of course she didn’t.” I lean back in my chair, studying him. “Resistance is part of the process. It is a defense mechanism. You, however, succeeded where others have failed.”
He hesitates. “I don’t think she trusts me.”
“She doesn’t need to,” I correct him. “Not yet. Trust is cultivated through discipline and exposure. Which is why I’ve selected you to assist me in a new form of treatment.”
He blinks. “Treatment?”
“A method I’ve been developing for some time. It focuses on control—submission. Rebuilding the mind by reconstructing behavioral patterns.”
“I don’t understand.”
I tap a finger against his file. “You and Eliza. You represent two opposing forces. She is unrelenting, obstinate, and reckless. You are . . . restrained. Passive. You yield too easily.” I pause, letting the words settle. “Your patterns can be altered. Strengthened.”
“I—I don’t think I’m the right person for this.”
“You are precisely the right person.”
“I just. I don’t know if I can . . .” He rubs his hands together, fingers knotting nervously. “She’s—She’s different. She doesn’t listen.”
“She will.”
He exhales, shaking his head. “What exactly would I have to do?”
“You will learn to take control.”
His gaze darts up, uncertainty flickering across his face.
“She challenges you,” I continue, steepling my fingers. “Defies you. You will be placed in scenarios where you must assert dominance. You will guide her through exercises designed to break down her resistance while simultaneously reinforcing your own sense of control.”
“I don’t think she wants to be controlled.”
“That’s why it’s necessary.”
He frowns, fingers tightening against the fabric of his pants. I let the silence stretch before adding, “I believe this will benefit you greatly, Theodore.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“You will be monitored closely. Nothing will happen that I do not authorize. But if you refuse, I will have no choice but to continue her therapy through alternative means.”
“What does that mean?”
