Page 2 of Exposed
“Absolutely, sir,” the groundskeeper says. “Whatever you need, we’re ready. I’ll be forever in your debt for how you’ve helped my sister.”
Those words bring a sinister smile to my face, which has nothing to do with helping him and everything to do with the knowledge that his gratitude comes at a price. Though there was a somewhat difficult period of negotiation with Dr. Halstead, with my help, the groundskeeper’s sister has finally been released from our asylum. The poor bastard doesn’t realize it’s only temporary. Soon, she’ll return to my department, and once again, he’ll be groveling for my assistance. He ought to know letting a man dig up a grave will ultimately lead him down a horrifying path.
“You love your sister?” I ask.
He bows his head. “Yes, sir. With all of my heart.”
My nostrils flare, curiosity blooming in my chest. I’ve suspected their relationship for a while now, and his avoidance to my eye contact only furthers it. Perhaps there is something more between the two siblings, something sexual in nature. An aspect I can explore more with his sister’s return to the Wellard Asylum. Maybe she can eventually become a trained doll to be sold as well.
However, right now, both the groundskeeper and his sister are unimportant to me. My entire focus is on the only object worthy of my attention.
Violet, my sweet one.
“It would be unfortunate if a visitor found this grave and came to you with questions,” I say.
I don’t clarifywhothe visitor may be; the groundskeeper can make his own assumption about the grave and the potential connections. I have no doubt he’s seen the woman visit his cemetery before. I lift my nose. “Unfortunately, you will be unavailable to any mourners until I’ve concluded my business. I’ll give you a call.”
“Yes, sir.” The groundskeeper bobs his head. “My sister and I were just talking about taking a vacation.”
“Enjoy yourselves, then,” I say with a wink. I can’t help it; he has no idea what his future holds. It may be the last time he indulges in leisurely freedom with his sister.
On my way out of the cemetery, I step over decaying bouquets and pass through black spiked gates. Then I settle into the driver’s seat of my sedan and remove a vial of blood from the glove box. I had Violet’s current boyfriend take her to the clinic in town to have a sample drawn for preliminary testing to confirm her perverse condition was not due to a physical ailment. The dumbson-of-a-bitch is so invested in her safety and stupidly trusting in my care, hetrulythinks I ordered blood tests. In reality, I collected it from the clinic myself. My reputation stretches beyond the asylum; no one dares question my needs.
I’ve been saving her blood for a special occasion, and now is precisely the right time.
I shake the vial and watch the separated parts mix back together. I twist it open before bringing it to my lips and tossing my head back. The blood drips into my mouth, the metallic essence coursing over my tongue. My dick engorges, the taste of her blood already driving me toward another full erection. I groan deeply. There’s nothing like drinking a woman’s blood, especially when she has absolutely no idea it’s technically been stolen from her.
Usually, when I drink a woman’s blood, I barely know her name; it’s a passing situation, a way to dangle power over my victim until I lose interest in the game and drink it. With Violet, I know her name. Her background. Herinterests.I know everything about her.
Violet isn’t a passing interest like the others. She’s my obsession. I can admit that. I’ve been thinking about today’s appointment non-stop since I scheduled it with her boyfriend, and she is completely unaware of how much I’ve been investing in her life.
I must save my next orgasm forher.Violet thinks she’s agreed to a short appointment at the asylum, but she will be staying for a very, very long time.
She’ll be under my care permanently.
The asylum is bleak and washed out, as if a thin layer of gray paint glazes every surface. The longer I study the facility, the colder it is, like the damn place is already sucking the life out of me.
Even though we have the heater on in the car, my fingers are blocks of ice. I pull the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands, protecting myself from the cold, and…maybe the asylum too. My boyfriend, Benji, parks the car, sighs deeply, and runs a hand through his wavy brown hair. His nose is angled with a large bump, and it gives him this innocent demeanor, like he could be a schoolteacher, the kind of selfless person who deserves deep love.
I can’t give him that. Not until I do this.
I shift in the car seat and face the asylum. I’ve driven past this place more times than I can count, but I’ve never been this close to it before. For a long time, it was like a ghost waiting at the edges of my mind, always out of reach. Now, I’ll embrace its full weight.
Thisis where my mother died. It’s up to me to make things right for her.
As I stare up at the asylum, my intestinestangle into screwed-up knots. I clutch my stomach and try to ignore the pain. Different sections of the property range from two to six stories tall, and a chain-link fence circles close to the buildings, slightly higher than average, locking everything inside. An instinct inside of meknowsthere’s something ominous lurking beneath the facility too, an underground nightmare ready to swallow me whole.
The Wellard Asylum is not a shelter; it’s a prison.
And in a way, I’m surrendering to it.
“This is it,” Benji says. I bite the inside of my cheek. He’s just announcing our arrival, but the words are different now, like this may actually be the end of me.
Ihaveto be here. I owe it to my mother and myself.
“Great,” I say. The word comes out snarky. I grimace and roll my eyes. I need to be nicer to Benji. I fix my tone: “Thanks for doing this with me.”
“Anything for you,” Benji says.
