Page 8 of Exposed
It’s sad, but she’s a pervert like her mother,the new girlfriend said quietly to my coworker.Like mother, like daughter.
That’s why I dumped her,my ex added.What a fucking freak.
Everyone, including the other customers and my coworkers, gawked at me.
I felt so alone.
I don’t remember how I reacted. What I do know is I went to my mother’s grave.Freakwas graffitied in pink across her name. Had my ex and his new girlfriend marked her headstone? Or was it someone else? It seemed so unlikely that anyone else would know about my mother’s treatment, but what if they did? What if there were other people who were disgusted by her like they were disgusted by me?
I was twenty-two back then. I tried to suppress my obsession. I tried to pretend everything was fine, that I was normal, even if my coworkers wouldn’t look me in the eyes anymore, even if strangers whispered about me behind my back. But I couldn’t concentrate. Eventually, I lost my job, and my foster parents kicked me out. They had been charging me rent, but it was still better to live with them while I worked and saved for college.
I packed everything I had in a backpack and moved to Belleville, the small town where my mother was buried, near the Wellard Asylum. I had to be closer to her. There had to be more to her story.
Then, when I was twenty-three, I met Benji. He had been a foster kid like me, so he understood the need for parental closure like this, and for a while, I didn’t care if we had quiet, missionary sex in the dark.
I was safe.
But desperation kept unfurling inside of me, wrapping its chains around my isolated heart. I had to figure out everything I could about my mother. Benji had grown up in the area and mentioned a rumor that a lot of the patients at the Wellard Asylum died from abuse. After I turned twenty-four, I became restless for answers, and Benji knew he had to do something for me soon, otherwise, I wouldtake it into my own hands. So, he promised he would look into my mother. He would steal her files. He would interview the doctors. He would investigate other patients. He would do anything I asked, as long as I stayed away from the asylum.
Once Benji stole my mother’s file and her records confirmed she died from abuse,not childbirth,I asked Benji to make a copy of the file, return it, and see if Dr. Ambrose would examine me in person. By then, Benji trusted me more, and he was comforted that he would be going to the asylumwithme.
Then, shortly after I turned twenty-five, the video requests came, and when Benji saw how enthusiastic I was, he inched away from me, his eyes darting toward me like I was a predator huntinghim.He never said the word, and yet it was there, an apparition blocking us from truly connecting:Freak.
Even though the Wellard Asylum has an unlawful reputation, there’s no doubt in my mind I need this. I need to kill Dr. Ambrose, but I also need to understand where I came from and who I am. In a way, being here brings me closer to my mother.
And possibly to my father.
Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down and flex my fingers. Dr. Ambrose might be my father. I can’t change that.
But I can make him pay for what he’s done.
He needs to believe I belong here so I can be close to him. And once I kill him, I’ll be able to move on with my life.
If I don’t die trying, that is.
“Are we still waiting, or are you ready, Miss Ward?”Dr. Ambrose asks, his voice low and melodic, calling me into his depths, the same way he must have lulled my mother into a false sense of security.
Am I ready to see what my mother endured? To see if I’m really a freak?
I squeeze Benji’s hand. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Eventually,” Dr. Ambrose says.
A chill rushes through me. I snap back to the doctor and cross my arms, pretending I’m unafraid of him.
He raises a brow. “Oliver will take care of you now.”
Those words tickle my earlobe, and slight disappointment prickles my skin.
Oliver. The assistant.NotDr. Ambrose.
I’m not disappointed because I want Dr. Ambrose to be the one to prepare me for the exam,I tell myself.I’m disappointed because I want to kill Dr. Ambrose now?—
Benji clasps my hand. His eyes are full and wet, pleading for menotto do this.
My lips curl down. I don’t want to upset Benji, but it also confuses and angers me that he swears he’s supportive of me being here, but he always tries to change my mind.
I’ve lost sleep. Skipped meals. Destroyed friendships. Ended a relationship. I was supposed to stay with my foster parents until I could get through college, but once they saw my obsession cost me my job, they kicked me out.
