Dirty Psychopath
Page 1
Dirty Psychopath
Celia Crown
Copyright © 2020 by Celia Crown
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are from the author's imagination or folklore, legends, and general myths.
The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, and locales, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.
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Contents
Dirty Psychopath
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Author’s other works!
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WARNING: This contains sensitive material that will be triggering to some, reader discretion is advised. Emotional Manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome, and Graphic Violence.
Dirty Psychopath
by Celia Crown
“It should hurt, little girl. Being with me will always hurt.”
I don’t know him, I have never spoken to him, and I have never seen him before.
He’s a man wrapped in inky patterns, armed with scarred knuckles, and donned with selfish obsessiveness.
One look and I’m his; I’m his favorite victim.
I shouldn’t have these complicated feelings in my stomach when I’m near him, but his presence had proven to be poisoning—far too late to stop the spread of the compulsive submissiveness that he commands of me.
“John Doe” is his identity; he’s nothing, but everything at the same time.
Chapter One
Jessie
His name is John Doe. That’s what everyone calls him.
Not only does he tower over everyone, but the raw strength emanating from his massive body is also intimidating. His steps never falter; they’re always confident and predatory—just like the vibrant glint in his obsidian eyes.
I have never seen him; everything I know is from overhearing the volunteers and staff. They gossip about all the insane patients, but John seems to be the one they always come back to.
Judging by their tone, they are attracted to him. Attraction is one thing, but his unapproachable demeanor stomps on their fantasy.
It doesn’t matter if it’s just gossiping among friends. I find it disrespectful to talk about a man who has been declared mentally insane and locked in an asylum.
I don’t participate in their conversations; I just keep to myself. I’m here as a volunteer and keep my head down when I’m working. The patients may all be dangerous in their own way, but only a few have had violent outbursts.
Everyone just wanders around and minds their own business, much like the rest of the world. The more time I spend with the patients in the wing where I work, the more I notice how bright some of them are.
John Doe is not assigned to my wing, and I rarely leave this area, so I don’t know most of the patients.
It does not bother me because the doctors here severely punish anyone who gossips. It’s a terrible habit to get into at work, and no one wants to be the topic of group discussion themselves.
Even though I’m new here, I know some of the doctors like to go power trips at times. I’m an unpaid worker, so I am ignored if I protest about how patients are treated.
If the head nurse can’t voice her concerns to certain doctors about their behavior, no one can. I doubt their fellow doctors want to create a rift in their ranks either.
One powerful doctor had me assigned to a different section of the building. I was not given a reason, but I am glad to be out of his hair.
It made me so uncomfortable when his sleazy eyes stared at the nurses’ asses. He did it to me occasionally, but I never let him have the satisfaction of knowing he made me uneasy.
Showing any weakness just gave him more power.
I came here to help patients, not to be harassed by “Doctor Dick.” Otherwise known as Doctor Hancock. At this point, it’s just semantics.
“Jessie?” someone calls out as they shake my shoulder.
I snap out of my thoughts and drop the folded towel on the pile in front of me. Wheezing in shock, I stare into the eyes of a new friend. She chuckles and dumps her pile of towels into a basket.
“You’re spacing out.” Lisa crooks her eyebrows and tilts her head with a questioning gaze.
I shake my head and laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Oh,” she coos with a sly stretch of her lips.
“Not like that,” chiding her as my cheeks burn in embarrassment. “The thunderstorm was too powerful.”
“Scared of a little flash of lightning?” she teases.
I scowl playfully and push the towels into the basket. “’ Flash?’ It was like a war with Zeus himself.”
She inclines her head in agreement. “So true. I thought my damn windows were going to crack.”
“I thought your singing took care of that,” I point out.
Offended, she huffs noisily. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I made it through the first round of the local talent show.”
“I didn’t even know ‘talent shows’ were still a thing,” I say quietly, shrugging at my own words.
I never participated in a talent show; the schools I went to didn’t have them. The all-girls high school I went to was about self-discovery and honing superficial skills. But they didn’t provide opportunities for the students to show off.
Boys were a rarity in those four years of my life, but I didn’t care much about the dating scene. A lot of girls would come back to school after the weekends and swoon over their amazing boyfriends.
Thinking back, I believe it was more from angst than squealing in delight.
One of the more popular girls had an on-off relationship with a boy, and the most common bet was on whether they would break up by the end of the week or not.
Their breakups and makeups were so common that no one batted an eye when she cried about her life being ruined after her boyfriend broke up with her again.
“Just to let you know,” she mentions offhandedly. “I’m being moved to another wing. Doctor Dick is throwing his weight around again.”
I sigh tiredly. That man needs a reality check, but the Board only cares about the results at the end of each month. They want to see patients improve so they can get more grants from the government. Any type of treatment is fine with them as long as it’s not illegal.
They talk a good game but don’t have the balls to make it happen.
I’m surprised no one has filed a complaint with the government, but I can see why they don’t even bother with it.
The atmosphere and the hierarchy in this asylum are borderline inappropriate, but no rules are broken. No one is getting abused or mistreated, neglect isn’t happening, and all the patients receive their medications.
It’s just that the workers are nonchalant and don’t have any real interest in the patients.
“That guy has nothing better to do,” I mumble with a scoff.
I hold the basket while she maneuvers the laundry cart towards me. She is much stronger than I am, so she takes on the job of pushing it while I distribute the towels to the patient rooms.
We follow the bright hallway
and pass some workers who are dressed in white. The lack of color in the asylum is to make sure the patients don’t get overstimulated. I’m not directly involved in caring for any of the patients, so I don’t know how true that is.
It makes sense, though, so I don’t think about it much.
“Did you see John Doe yet?” Lisa asks out of the blue, nearly making me drop the clean towels I am stacking.
“No,” I mumble back.
I’m curious about what he looks like but am not inclined to go out of my way to track him down.
I don’t know why, but I imagine him as celebrity-level attractive. It’s the only way he could attract so many workers and make them swoon.
“You can’t miss him,” she quips as she pushes the cart towards the next room.
It’s the last room we have to cover before lunch. I’m starved after skipping breakfast because of last night's obnoxious storm.
“I’ll be sure to let you know when I see him,” I remark with a chuckle. “If I see you again, that is.”
“Maybe I’ll send a carrier pigeon your way,” she snarks with a toothy grin. “Doctor Dick has probably assigned me to cleaning duties. That bastard can’t take rejection like a man.”
“He tried something?” I ask, shocked. However, I’m not really surprised by his behavior.
“He thought he was so slick breathing down my neck, like anyone would want his nasty-ass breath in their vicinity,” she curtly snaps and wrinkles her nose in disgust.
“We can always hang out after work,” I offer.
“Don’t worry, you’re not going to get away from me that easily.” Her brows wiggle playfully. “Little old Lisa is your after-hours friend,” she agrees.
I roll my eyes as we turn the corner and head toward the area for therapy sessions. The only time doctor-patient confidentiality counts is when they are alone together in an enclosed space.
The room we are walking past now does not qualify for doctor-patient confidentiality. It’s just a group of patients sitting in a circle while the attending psychiatrist talks to them about their day.
Little steps help.
Lisa and I are minding our own business and avoiding curious gazes at the group when a burning sensation crashes into the side of my face.
I blink rapidly in confusion and instinctively turn my head to find the source of the distressing heat. The hair on the back of my neck tingles as my heart shudders, and I feel apprehensive.
There is a handsome man with a blank face and obsidian eyes staring into mine.
His massive body seems at ease as he watches me through the glass. But the calmness radiating from his slackened muscles is disguising the aggression.
The hostility behind that poker face is utterly terrifying.
No one sees it, not even the psychiatrist.
If they did, they would run for the hills to put maximum distance between them. Through the window, I can still sense the raw power rumbling through him. I cannot imagine being in the same room with him.
I feel unsafe for the first time in this asylum.
His big hands are idle, fingers hanging loose before slowly curling into fists. In that brief moment, I expect him to lunge out of the chair and cause some kind of commotion.
He doesn’t. He merely sits there and watches every step I take.
Heat bubbles in my stomach and spreads sickeningly through my veins. I shudder violently when a shiver hits my spine and forces a hiccup from my lips.
The intense reaction came out of nowhere, scaring me no end.
While I consider myself a fairly confident person, the cowardice in my gut right now demands that I yield to his gaze. My eyes drop to the legs of his chair and then quickly glance over to the empty cart.
A nearby wall acts as a physical barrier to escape his predatory gaze. The residual fervor of his stare still haunts me.
“You’re looking a bit pale, girlie,” Lisa notes as she unlocks the door to the storage area.
I swallow thickly and manage an awkward chuckle. “I was just thinking of how terrible it would be to have a thunderstorm again tonight.”
“Let’s hope not,” she mumbles as she takes the cart inside. “We wouldn't want you to get bags under your eyes, right?”
“Right,” I whisper.
I’m glad she accepted my lie at face value. I’m not the best at deception, and I have this strange guilt when I hide things.
I watch as she pushes the cart back into its place, but my mind is running through that experience once more. I shake it off and breathe in deeply as the extra oxygen eases the frenzied shivers in my body.
“Ladies,” a voice says from behind us.
My teeth bite my tongue, and my shoulders give a startled jerk. I spin around with wide eyes and a pitiful whine in the back of my throat.
“Doctor,” I address her respectfully.
I just started working here, so I haven’t learned everyone's name yet. This woman has a white lab coat on, so it’s fair to assume she is one of the doctors here.
I recall seeing her in the room with the patients but was too focused on the mysterious man to notice anything else.
She smiles and offers her hand to me while introducing herself.
“I’m Doctor Carrey.”
I’m taken aback by the friendliness of her smile and accidentally squeeze her hand too hard, but she doesn’t flinch as she returns the grip.
“Sorry,” I sputter out, “I’m Jessie.”
“Ah, yes!” she exclaims as her eyes brighten. “You have been assigned to my wing, and Lisa has been reassigned to a fellow Doctor.”
Lisa bites out with a strained smile, “Yeah, Doctor Hancock likes to move everyone around like it’s musical chairs here.”
The doctor chuckles and shakes her head. “Doctor Hancock is old school; he believes that constant changes will bring nothing but good.”
The only way that would make sense is if we learn to adapt to change more easily. I would feel better about it if he didn’t go on a power trip every time he doesn’t get his way.
“I would like a word with you in private if you don’t mind,” she says as her ruby lips stretch.
I nod and wave to Lisa as she mentions meeting me in the lunchroom when I’m done. I have every intention of making it there. I’m running low on energy and need food.
“Walk with me?” the doctor offers.
I nod again and lock the door behind me, the frame creaking loudly. I’m very uncomfortable around Doctor Carrey, but I can’t put my finger on why that would be the case.
It must be leftover jitters after seeing that man.
She walks off with long strides, and I awkwardly follow. Doctor Carrey heads back to where the group meeting took place, and I find myself staring into the same obsidian eyes once more.
I squeak and reflexively back up against the wall. I’m glad my first instinct was to protect myself from the man’s inquisitive gaze.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, turning to face me.
I stammer and make up an excuse, “The light hit my eyes.”
What a weak excuse, I think to myself.
I clear my throat and gather what little courage I have to take a step away from the wall. I immediately feel his eyes on my face, nauseatingly intense as they follow me.
The doctor doesn’t seem to notice the change in my body language as she gestures to the window. I pretend I don’t see the man and stare at the aides standing near him instead.
Patients can roam around in their designated wings if they are considered non-threatening. We’re low on staff, but patients with a history of violence always have an aide nearby.
This man has two aides with him in the enclosed room. I hate to make assumptions, but it might mean he’s especially dangerous. I doubt the two aides could stop a man of his size, though. His muscles alone should be considered a weapon, and his eyes could turn a person to stone.
“I would like you to join us at tomorrow’s session.”
I don’t think I’m that interesting to look at, and people don’t usually stare at me. Doctor Carrey’s lovely face is much more fascinating than mine.
“What?” I blurt out.
“You wouldn’t have to do anything except just sit there,” she explains.
“I—” I bite my tongue again, bringing back the explosive pain.
I am speechless, shuddering when the heat of the man’s gaze runs down my neck. My pulse pounds insistently as he focuses on my jugular.
“I am not someone who likes surprises, so I don’t wish that on anyone,” she clarifies as an afterthought.
She turns her focus back to me. “John has been under my care for the last five years, but today is the first time he has shown any level of awareness.”
I highly doubt the man has been unaware of his surroundings. Then his name catches my attention, and I dread the connection my mind makes.
“Would he happen to be the ‘John Doe’ everyone talks about?” I ask, holding back a grimace.
She smiles widely. “Yes. However, he is harmless. There is no need to worry that he is dangerous.”
Absolutely nothing about the man seems harmless. Judging by his aggressive gaze, he is probably thinking about what my internal organs will look like when he gets his hands on me.
“There will be aides right outside the room as always. And it will only be for one hour of the session.”
Frankly, I don’t want to spend a minute in the same room as John.
Nonetheless, she is my supervisor. I don’t want to be reassigned to a different section of the asylum, so I nod my head in defeat.
“Good, I will have someone come to get you,” she mentions. “You will just sit there and won’t interact with the patients. That way, they can be exposed to other people in a controlled environment to help them learn to get along.”