What had been a child’s innocent fantasy had now become evidence of his alleged mental instability.
Domenic stared at Rupert in disbelief, feeling his innocence shatter into pieces.
Rupert straightened up to his full height and looked down at Domenic.
Ignoring the boy’s defiant glare, he narrowed his eyes and said, “If you can’t endure this, you can join your parents.
They are waiting for you in the depths of hell.
”
With those words, Rupert turned and walked away.
Domenic would never forget the cruelty of that departing figure.
The black woolen coat he wore seemed like a devil’s cloak on that despised figure.
Rupert vanished from sight.
A man then appeared before Domenic.
Domenic looked up and saw it was the director, who said with a malicious look, “Let’s go, Master Walsh.
Here, you are just another patient with an incurable disease.This belongs to .
”
Incurable disease?
Staring at the director’s cold face, Domenic felt as if he had already been handed a death sentence.
Thus, Rupert’s true intention was to ensure Domenic never left this place.
The director led Domenic to the most terrifying special ward.
Inside, all the patients had severe mental illnesses.
Even the doctors and nurses were afraid to go near them.
They were like vicious specters haunting this world.
Seeing a young boy enter, they all grinned maliciously at him.
Domenic trembled with fear.
But in this place, no one cared about his terror, and no one could rescue him.
On his very first day in the ward, he endured horrific abuse.
He was dragged out of the room by several extremely manic patients.
They punched and kicked him, yanked his hair, smashed his head against the wall, and finally dragged him around like a ragdoll.
Blood splattered across the floor of the ward, creating a terrifying trail.
The other patients stood by, clapping and cheering.
Some delusional patients shouted, “Look, a dead pig! Chop it and eat it!”
Domenic even thought he was going to die at that asylum.
As he was nearing his last breath, a security guard intervened and halted the ordeal.
After receiving basic first aid and getting bandaged, Domenic was roughly placed back in his bed.
That night, his body was feverishly hot, and he suffered from a fever throughout the night.
In his feverish state, he envisioned his parents beside him, caressing his cheeks, kissing his forehead, and whispering, “It’s late now, baby.
Time to sleep.
”
This was how his mother would lull him to sleep each night.
Back then, he never appreciated how joyful those moments were, but when he was sick, reflecting, those were the happiest times of his life.
After a stretch of unconsciousness, Domenic gradually opened his eyes.
He hoped desperately that all he had endured was merely a horrific dream.
He longed to wake up in his comfortable bed at home, with his mother cooking in the kitchen and his father reading the newspaper on the sofa.
He imagined himself walking out groggily to find his mother placing a table of his favorite dishes on the table.
As tears streamed down his face, Domenic stared at the strange ceiling, overwhelmed by the oppressive smell of blood.
It was clear to him that this was no dream; he was still trapped in this nightmare.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the doctor entered and announced that it was time for treatment.
Domenic was forcibly taken to the treatment room again.
This time, upon seeing the daunting instruments, he panicked like a terrified deer, screaming in agony and frantically attempting to escape.