Read Online Whispers of Bedlam Asylum (Sigmund Shaw Book 2) by Mark C. King - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark C. King
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happening, aimlessly gazing around while secretly listening to every word.
“Constable,” the man in white said loudly, “please stop the incessant noise of the siren! It is disturbing the patients. It is bad enough in there without such stimuli.”
“My apologies, sir. But I needed the attention of someone.”
“Is there an issue?” asked the man in white, who without a doubt was an orderly.
“I believe this woman, a Miss Charlotte Caine, has taken a bit of a holiday from Bedlam.” It was a nice way of saying that she escaped.
The man in white looked at Charlotte while she continued to pretend not to notice him. She could feel his gaze on her, doing what? Judging her sanity? Seeing if she looked familiar? Bedlam housed hundreds of patients, would anyone be able to recognize all of them?
“I am not aware of anyone missing, on holiday or otherwise. What makes you think that she belongs here?”
Her stomach was doing somersaults while she tried to keep her breathing calm. The constable, in a somewhat whispered tone, said, “We found her outside of Waterloo Station, dancing with strangers to music that was not playing.” He looked over at her and cringed, he didn’t like talking like this in front of her. Still whispering, he continued, “When we brought her inside and asked about where home was, she got very agitated, to say the least, and eventually told us Bedlam. I’m no doctor, but it is fairly clear that she needs some help. The kind of help that this place,” he pointed at Bedlam, “can provide.”
Once again the man in white looked at Charlotte. It felt even worse this time. Her success was being decided right now by this man standing in the cold and rain. She raised her finger to the window and started tracing the water trails. She gave a giggle on completing each trail to the bottom as if it was a remarkable feat.
The man in white straightened up and said, “All right. Let me open the gates and then you can pull up to the main entrance. Wait for me there.”
“Thank you, sir,” Arthur answered and fiddled with the window to slide it up and close it. Turning to Charlotte, he said in a very kind voice, “You are almost home. Everything will be fine now.”
She didn’t respond, just kept following water trails. When the car lurched forward, she was pushed back in her seat and let out a little yelp.
Arthur, not looking away from the road to Bedlam, gave a sheepish, “Sorry.”
The car stopped right in front of the entrance, the six pillars looking impossibly big. They waited there while the man in white caught up to them.
Charlotte was surprised again when her door suddenly opened. The man in white grabbed her arm tight and practically yanked her out of the car.
“Oi!” the constable called out, “Easy there. Is that really necessary?”
The orderly shot a very impatient glance at the officer and said, “She got out once, you say, I’m making sure she doesn’t do it again.” Then, turning away and walking towards the entrance he called out flatly, “Good day, Constable.”
Nearly being dragged, she noticed the sound of tires crunching on gravel, and getting fainter. Arthur was driving away. She did not expect the immense feeling of loneliness that accompanied his leaving.
Nervous, scared, and now lonely. What have I done? They passed the pillars and neared the front doors. Breathing became difficult and her legs were like rubber. Somehow she kept moving. She imagined smoke and flames pouring out of the entrance and wondered if that would have scared her any more than how she currently felt. She doubted it.
With a strong, becoming painful, grip on her arm, the man in white used his other hand to open the heavy front door. As he pulled her inside he paused, looked at her, and said, “Welcome home.”
9.
Charlotte’s arm was bruising from the hard grip of the orderly. She twisted, not to escape,
“Constable,” the man in white said loudly, “please stop the incessant noise of the siren! It is disturbing the patients. It is bad enough in there without such stimuli.”
“My apologies, sir. But I needed the attention of someone.”
“Is there an issue?” asked the man in white, who without a doubt was an orderly.
“I believe this woman, a Miss Charlotte Caine, has taken a bit of a holiday from Bedlam.” It was a nice way of saying that she escaped.
The man in white looked at Charlotte while she continued to pretend not to notice him. She could feel his gaze on her, doing what? Judging her sanity? Seeing if she looked familiar? Bedlam housed hundreds of patients, would anyone be able to recognize all of them?
“I am not aware of anyone missing, on holiday or otherwise. What makes you think that she belongs here?”
Her stomach was doing somersaults while she tried to keep her breathing calm. The constable, in a somewhat whispered tone, said, “We found her outside of Waterloo Station, dancing with strangers to music that was not playing.” He looked over at her and cringed, he didn’t like talking like this in front of her. Still whispering, he continued, “When we brought her inside and asked about where home was, she got very agitated, to say the least, and eventually told us Bedlam. I’m no doctor, but it is fairly clear that she needs some help. The kind of help that this place,” he pointed at Bedlam, “can provide.”
Once again the man in white looked at Charlotte. It felt even worse this time. Her success was being decided right now by this man standing in the cold and rain. She raised her finger to the window and started tracing the water trails. She gave a giggle on completing each trail to the bottom as if it was a remarkable feat.
The man in white straightened up and said, “All right. Let me open the gates and then you can pull up to the main entrance. Wait for me there.”
“Thank you, sir,” Arthur answered and fiddled with the window to slide it up and close it. Turning to Charlotte, he said in a very kind voice, “You are almost home. Everything will be fine now.”
She didn’t respond, just kept following water trails. When the car lurched forward, she was pushed back in her seat and let out a little yelp.
Arthur, not looking away from the road to Bedlam, gave a sheepish, “Sorry.”
The car stopped right in front of the entrance, the six pillars looking impossibly big. They waited there while the man in white caught up to them.
Charlotte was surprised again when her door suddenly opened. The man in white grabbed her arm tight and practically yanked her out of the car.
“Oi!” the constable called out, “Easy there. Is that really necessary?”
The orderly shot a very impatient glance at the officer and said, “She got out once, you say, I’m making sure she doesn’t do it again.” Then, turning away and walking towards the entrance he called out flatly, “Good day, Constable.”
Nearly being dragged, she noticed the sound of tires crunching on gravel, and getting fainter. Arthur was driving away. She did not expect the immense feeling of loneliness that accompanied his leaving.
Nervous, scared, and now lonely. What have I done? They passed the pillars and neared the front doors. Breathing became difficult and her legs were like rubber. Somehow she kept moving. She imagined smoke and flames pouring out of the entrance and wondered if that would have scared her any more than how she currently felt. She doubted it.
With a strong, becoming painful, grip on her arm, the man in white used his other hand to open the heavy front door. As he pulled her inside he paused, looked at her, and said, “Welcome home.”
9.
Charlotte’s arm was bruising from the hard grip of the orderly. She twisted, not to escape,
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