Bianca’s eyes widened in disbelief. Dave had always seemed calm and composed. She couldn’t imagine the deep despair he must have felt to even think about ending his life.
Dave stared into the night sky, the darkness stirring memories he had buried deep. They were memories he hated to relive, let alone share.
The sky was gray that day, and the rain fell heavily.
Rupert’s men had gagged him, tied him up, and thrown him into a car.
The vehicle raced toward the grim asylum in Edenfield, a place Dave could only describe as a living hell.
He vividly remembered Rupert’s words to the hospital director that day. With a smile, Rupert had said, “Take good ‘care’ of him. Don’t release him until he’s fully recovered.” Then, with a chilling insinuation, he added, “If he never recovers, I’ll cover all his expenses for life. And, of course, the bonus will be very generous.”
At just ten years old, Dave couldn’t fully grasp the deeper meanings behind their words.
All he could do was glare at Rupert with burning hatred, wishing his stare alone could destroy him.
After finishing his talk with the director, Rupert walked over and crouched down in front of Dave.
Looking at Dave’s angry expression, he lightly patted his head.
The gesture felt more like a threat than comfort.
“Well, Dave, since you’re ill, you should stay here,” Rupert said with a sly smile. “Don’t waste your energy struggling. The more you fight, the more it proves how serious your illness is.”
“I’m not sick! I’m not!” Dave cried, struggling with all his strength to free himself. But he was just a child and couldn’t overpower the two adults restraining him.
All he could gnash his teeth as he stared at Rupert, helpless and furious.
“You are definitely mentally ill,” Rupert sneered, his mocking smile growing wider. He pinched Dave’s cold cheek and said, “How can any sane person believe someone can pull stars from the sky? It’s just a childish lie, yet you took it seriously. That proves you’re crazy.”
Seeing Rupert’s cruel smile, a wave of dread swept over Dave. His fists clenched tightly, and it felt as though the blood in his veins had frozen solid.
What had once been a simple, innocent fantasy was now twisted into proof of his so-called mental instability.
Dave stared at Rupert in disbelief, feeling his childhood innocence shatter.
Rupert stood tall, looking down at him with cold eyes.
Ignoring Dave’s arrogant glare, he smirked and said, “If you can’t handle this, you can always join your parents. They’re waiting for you in the depths of hell.”
With that, Rupert turned and walked away.
Dave would never forget the image of his retreating figure.
His black wool coat looked like a devil’s cloak, leaving a permanent scar in Dave’s mind.
As Rupert disappeared, another man stepped in front of Dave.
Dave looked up and saw the hospital director.
The man’s eyes gleamed with malice as he said, “Let’s go, Master Evans. Here, you’re just another patient with an incurable disease.”
Incurable disease?
Hearing those words and seeing the director’s cold expression, Dave felt as if his fate had already been sealed.
It became clear to him-Rupert’s real goal was to ensure he would never leave this place.
The director led him to the most horrifying part of the hospital, a special ward filled with patients suffering from severe mental illnesses.
Even the doctors and nurses avoided going near them, too fearful of what might happen.
The patients seemed like vengeful spirits, clinging to this world with their madness.
When they saw a young boy enter, their twisted grins stretched wide, sending chills down Dave’s spine.
Dave trembled with fear, but no one cared about his terror in this place, and there was no one to save him.
On his very first day in the ward, he experienced horrifying abuse.
A group of manic patients dragged him out of the room. They punched and kicked him mercilessly, pulled his hair, slammed his head against the wall, and dragged him across the floor like a lifeless ragdoll.
Blood splattered everywhere, leaving a chilling trail across the ward.
The other patients stood by, clapping and cheering as if it were a show.
Some delusional voices rang out, shouting, “Look, a dead pig! Chop it up and eat it!”
Dave really believed he would die in that asylum.
Just as he was nearing his last breath, a security guard stepped in and stopped the attack. After receiving basic first aid and having his wounds bandaged, he was roughly placed back in his bed.
That night, his body burned with fever, and he suffered through it alone.
In his feverish state, he imagined his parents beside him. He felt their gentle hands on his cheeks, their kisses on his forehead, and heard their soothing whispers, “It’s late now, baby. Time to sleep.”
It was how his mother would always lull him to sleep.
He didn’t realize how precious those moments were back then. But now, in his pain, he saw them as the happiest times of his life.
After drifting in and out of unconsciousness, Dave slowly opened his eyes.
Dave desperately wished it was all just a terrible dream.
He longed to wake up in his cozy bed at home. He imagined his mother cooking in the kitchen and his father reading the newspaper on the sofa.
He pictured himself walking out sleepily to find his mother setting a table filled with his favorite dishes.
But as tears streamed down his face, he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
The heavy smell of blood filled the air, and reality hit him hard.
It wasn’t a dream. He was still trapped in the nightmare.
The doctor entered before he could gather his thoughts and coldly announced it was time for treatment.
Dave was dragged back to the treatment room.
When he saw the intimidating instruments, panic surged through him. Like a frightened deer, he screamed in terror and tried desperately to escape.
“He’s losing control! Hold him down!” the staff shouted as a group of doctors and nurses pushed him into the therapy chair.
“Hurry up, tranquilizer!”
Dave felt a sharp sting in his arm as the injection took effect. His body began to stiffen, and his mind went blank.
“Electric shock treatment,” the doctor ordered.
An electric pole was placed against Dave’s temple. His muscles contracted violently, and his body trembled uncontrollably as a nurse held him firmly.
Dave’s face turned pale, and foam started forming in his mouth.
“Oh, no! His heart stopped!”
“We can’t let him die. Start CPR!”