Page 2 of Sin Like the Devil

It’s rare that I emerge from my combined apartment and art studio. The real world is unpalatable to me. I prefer the safety of my canvases and the slick of oil paint wielded as a weapon by my brush. No one can ever get close enough to hurt me as long as I live in isolation.

“Please state your name and age for the record,” Elliot prompts.

I clear my scratchy throat. “Ripley Bennet. Thirty-six years old.”

“Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, Miss Bennet. We’ve spoken to many ex-detainees of this cruel regime, but your story in particular has always fascinated us.”

Summoning a lifeless nod, I remain silent.

“We’ve been working on this documentary series for several years now.” Elliot tells the viewers what I already know. “Incendia Corporation was officially disbanded a decade ago by the prestigious security firm, Sabre Security.”

The London-based, private security company has become a household name. It was taken over by ex-inmates of Blackwood Institute four years ago. I choked on a mouthful of cereal when I read that headline. Now there’s a hell of a story.

“We’re releasing this documentary series to commemorate the anniversary of the disbandment,” Elliot continues. “This is our chance to give the victims back their voices.”

The past echoes inside my head. Drip, drip. Bloodstained corridors stretch out around me. Slash, slash. The knife is cold in my grip. Stab, stab. The cries of death and agony compose a sinister soundtrack. I’m still caught in Harrowdean’s web of contradictions.

Illusion and distortion.

Patient and exploiter.

Innocent and culpable.

“Miss Bennet.” Elliot’s professional voice draws me back.

Shaking the rising haze from my head, I stuff the memories back into their internal prison. My therapist says they’re safer in there. Safe, Ripley. You’re safe. Harrowdean is long gone. Even on those dark days when a twisted part of me wishes it still existed.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“It’s quite alright. I understand this must be a difficult subject for you, even after all these years. You lost people in Harrowdean, correct?”

All I can manage is another jerky nod that ruffles my unruly, jaw-length mop of curly hair. The words are caught in a barbed wire trap in my throat, unable to tear themselves free.

Fingers twisting together, I focus on the layers of ink that wrap around my arms in intricate tattoo sleeves. But even that isn’t a distraction—the tattoos on my left arm are disfigured by puckered scarring. Another reminder of my time inside.

“We’ve spoken to many ex-detainees and heard shocking stories of medical malpractice, psychological torture and abuse.”

“That’s what they kept us in there for.” I shrug. “We were never meant to be more than their playthings, all for the sake of medical experimentation.”

“Quite,” he hums.

That’s the thing most people don’t get. Not what happened inside of Harrowdean Manor and the other institutes—that’s a matter of public record now. But the involvement of the patients themselves in the abuse. And those of us who enabled it.

The infamous story that’s printed in the history books is only half of the truth. The other half lies buried in our broken minds, waiting to eventually see the light of day. That’s why I’m here. After a decade, the time has come for me to reveal mine.

“Perhaps, you’ll tell us about how you came to be incarcerated in Harrowdean, one of six experimental institutes owned by Incendia Corporation that were shut down and demolished?—”

“Harrowdean wasn’t just an institute,” I interrupt.

Elliot taps his pen against his chin thoughtfully. “How so?”

“Well, that’s just what the world wanted to see. It made it easier to ignore the truth that was staring them in the face for so many years.”

My eyes stray back to the blinking camera, capturing every last traitorous syllable. In the years since Harrowdean, I swore I’d never tell. As long as I kept Harrowdean’s secrets, my life was safe. But that didn’t protect those I sacrificed for my own selfish purposes.

“We’re here for the truth,” Elliot states simply.

“I’m not sure the world is ready to hear it.”