Discarded, But Deadlier

"Patient 457, someone's here to collect you," an orderly yelled from the main door.

With stiff, puppet-like movements, I stood up and then slowly followed the orderly out.

When I neared the door, the orderly pressed a stun baton to my back and threatened in a low voice, "You'd better not run your mouth after leaving. Otherwise, we'll have our ways to get you back in here. Do you get what I mean?"

A chill ran down my spine, and I quickly answered, "I won't! I promise!"

Running out of patience, the orderly pinched my cheeks and said, "Just smile already!"

With practiced efficiency, I flashed a textbook-perfect smile at the orderly. Then, I raised my head and saw Noah Howell.

He was leaning by the car with his head lowered, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Noticing my approach, he snuffed out the cigarette and opened the car door. In a commanding tone, he said, "Get inside."

"Thank you, Mr. Howell!" I thanked him fearfully before getting into the car.

Noah held the door open. With furrowed brows, he asked, "What did you call me?"

Seeing the frown on his face, I said in a trembling voice, "Mr… Mr. Howell."

A smug smile tugged at his lips. "Oh? It seems you've learned some manners after half a year in there."

I wanted to say something in response, but I finally decided to keep my mouth shut.

I dared not mention his name again.

On the first day I entered the sanitarium, a few patients tried to escape. They were placed in the quiet room.

An orderly took me along to the quiet room to "observe" what happened. To put it mildly, it was intended as a warning.

I saw them stick electrode pads on the patients' heads. Then, one of the orderlies flipped the switch, turning on the power.

In an instant, the quiet room was filled with painful wails.

I saw their faces twisting in pain, and their pants were wet as they lost control over their bladder in an instant.

Terrified, I screamed as I ran outward. "Noah!"

However, two orderlies immediately caught me and forced me to my knees. The director of the sanitarium, David Dawson, walked up to me and reprimanded, "Who do you think you are to address Mr. Howell so intimately?"

"I'm his wife. Why can't I call him by his first name?" I retorted stubbornly.

Back then, I was still ignorant of the dangers and bravely fought back.

David flashed a smile that looked uncomfortably similar to Isabella Dawson's. He raised a stun baton and pressed it firmly on my back.

"Mr. Howell and my sister were a match made in heaven, yet you, a homewrecker, had to force yourself into their lives. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?"

I forgot how many times I was shocked that day. I shrieked and spasmed hard on the ground before finally becoming numb to the world around me.

All the while, I kept repeating one phrase, "I'm just a homewrecker. I must address him as Mr. Howell."

From then on, the word Noah no longer existed in my vocabulary, only Mr. Howell.