The Asylum Confessions Novels & Stories

his hoarse voice cracked. I did not speak again. I heard him sigh very loud and deep before pulling himself up. He struggled to stand up, as if he was very weak. My lips parted, but I stopped myself from talking. Slowly, he went behind me, and pushed my wheelchair towards the elevator. The cold and harsh wind kissed my face as soon as we got in the rooftop. He looked at me, so weak and lifeless. I lifted my chin. “Tell me everything.” I saw how he swallowed hard. Is he having a hard time confessing about his lies, or he's hesitating because he doesn't want to let me go? I will choose the latter, but I don't wanna get my hopes so high again.

We reached the busiest street in Ashton City, then crossed to the lakeside—the spot where couples always took photos. Rachel and I had been together for three years, but we'd never once come here. I held Thea close and looked out at the city lights with her. "I'm not like Rachel. She couldn't let go of Jude, but she still stayed with me. I only chose you after I let go of the past. "You asked what I'd do if you didn't treat me right. I have my answer now. "There is no what-if. You're not Rachel. You would never hurt me like that."

This was a career-ending sermon. Confessions were just as bad. As a priest, I obviously could not judge them, but it was quite something. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I lusted after my neighbor’s wife with desire in my heart,” the man confessed. I nodded sagely, trying to focus. “And how many times—” “But she looks just like that dangerous-hot looking Norwegian ex I had. Her ass is round and perfect and…” I coughed to get him back in order.

“And she… didn’t always correct it as firmly as she should have.” The implication hung between them without needing further explanation. Aisha left the house with a growing awareness that she was no longer simply reconstructing a case history, but uncovering the remnants of a therapeutic experiment that had never been fully acknowledged in official records. It was only after returning to the hospital that night that she noticed the second layer of contradiction. Arman was still awake when she reached his ward. As always, he sat by the window with a notebook resting on his lap, though this time he was not writing immediately. Instead, he seemed to be watching the forest with an unusual stilln

Just enough that she could feel the heat of him, the steady certainty that seemed to hang around him like another layer of clothing. “I’m not asking you to trust an Ashford,” he said. “I’m asking you to trust me. Just for tonight.” Just for tonight sounded like a lie. It sounded like the beginning of something that would not end quietly. “This is kidnapping,” she said weakly. “This is assisted escape,” he corrected. “Kidnapping requires a lack of consent. I’ll even let you walk to the car yourself, if you want to bleed out twice as fast.” She almost smiled. Almost.

At 3 a.m., my phone buzzed. A message from my source flashed on the screen: "St. Mary's Private Hospital, VIP ward, pregnant woman, 24/7 protection." The attached photo made my blood freeze. Seraphina was lying in a luxury hospital bed with a fetal heart monitor on her stomach. And Kaelen was sitting right beside her. He had lied. I slammed my foot on the gas, the Ferrari's engine screaming through the night. Twenty minutes later, I stormed into the VIP wing of St. Mary's. The guards tried to stop me, but one look at the fury in my eyes and they instinctively backed away.

I wiped a hand down the foggy mirror but didn’t bother to look into it. I didn’t want to see myself. Not this version. I ran a hand through my wet hair, exhaled slowly, and walked out of the bathroom, towel clinging to my hips. Back to the room. Back to her. Back to the lie I hadn’t yet found the strength to confess. Ashyrel POV

Another email had come in—this one from an unfamiliar address. But the subject line made my pulse stutter: [Can we talk?] Curious, I clicked it open. The message was short. [I don’t know if this will reach you. Hope you still remember me. I’m so glad to see you’ve come so far. Just…can we talk? It’s about the asylum. - Tomas, The Janitor from Ravencrest Asylum ] My eyes widened. My chest tightened. “Harper…” She looked up from her phone. “What is it?”

Granted he was busy and didn't have time to ask the well-being of a nurse who worked for him, who'd been his friend over the years. "We apologize for the inconvenience we've caused. As you know, it's our—" "Job, I know." I completed for him. "Thanks for talking to me, and please call me Riley. Flint nodded. "No hard feelings. And call me Flint.” I took a sip of the cold coffee and a bite from the warm gooey donut which tasted close to heaven. "Tell me something, Riley." Flint began. "Do you really believe the man confined in the asylum right now is Ezra Wolfe?"

In that moment, I found solace in my natural appearance, devoid of any desire for makeup. Grief consumed me, fueled by thoughts of vengeance against Alistair. As I gazed at the bread knife lying beside the mug, the image of him lying in a pool of his own blood played out in my mind repeatedly. Aspen had fulfilled his promise by sheltering me in one of his hotels. To ensure my comfort, he provided me with a phone and a prepared card. Despite his assurances that the card contained no tracking device and he had no interest in monitoring my movements, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was a lie.