They Sent Me to an Asylum, Then Cried for My Mercy

At my son’s one-month celebration, my sister burst in, covered in blood. She dropped to her knees in front of me, hands shaking as she pulled out a crumpled paternity test. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"Kaitlyn, I promised to keep your affair a secret, but why? Why would you go this far? Why would you kill people why wouldn’t you even spare our parents? Will you only be satisfied when I’m dead too?"

I barely had time to process her words before my husband, Carter Franklin, snatched the report from her hands. Without even reading it, he ripped it to shreds and, right then and there, announced our divorce.

It didn’t stop there. My son was taken away, dumped in an orphanage like an unwanted stray. And me? Carter and my four brothers had me locked away in a mental hospital for "reform."

For a whole year, I lived through hell. I was beaten, tormented, forced to endure five miscarriages, stripped of every last shred of dignity.

It wasn’t until Carter and my sister’s wedding was coming up that my brothers finally decided to bring me home.

By then, I had nothing left in me. I clutched a pillow like it was my child, rocking it gently, smiling like a fool.

——

When I stepped out of the hospital, the world outside felt just as cruel as the one I had left behind. Carter and my brothers stood next to a sleek Maybach, watching me with impatient stares. Cameras flashed, reporters pushed forward, voices buzzing like a swarm of wasps.

"Kaitlyn, you murdered your own parents and ruined your sister’s life, do you really think playing the victim will change anything?"

"If it weren’t for Winona’s kindness, you would’ve been sentenced to death by now!"

"You threw everything away for an affair. You killed your own parents for a man. Do you even feel remorse?"

A slight shove was all it took to send me crashing to the ground. My body was too weak, my clothes hanging off me like I was a child playing dress-up.

The reporters backed away for a second, but their words wrapped around me, suffocating me. My legs burned from the impact, but nothing hurt more than the weight of their accusations.

Still, I didn’t fight back. I didn’t argue. I just held onto my pillow, bent at the waist and bowed over and over, my voice breaking between gasps.

"I was wrong… I’m guilty… I’m a disgrace… I shouldn’t have killed my parents… I shouldn’t have hurt my sister."

After a year of torture, I had nothing left in me to resist. I had learned my place.

Every time I denied it, the punishments got worse; electric shocks that left my body convulsing, beatings so brutal I couldn't even cry out.

And when I finally collapsed, too weak to fight back, those rich brats would swarm like vultures, kicking and laughing as if I were nothing more than a broken toy.

They were criminals, all of them. Shipped off to the mental hospital under the pretense of "reform," but really, it was just a place for them to hide from consequences. They weren’t there to be fixed. They were there to be protected.

And they loved watching someone suffer. The only difference between me and the other victims? They died. I didn’t. Because my brothers and Carter wouldn’t let me.

Their voices haunted me, played on a loop through my earphones, cruel and relentless. "Kaitlyn, you filthy bitch, you deserve to die. You killed our parents. You ruined Winona. This is your punishment."

I slammed my forehead against the ground, the pain sharp and immediate. Warm blood trickled down my face, stinging my eyes. The world blurred red and the five looming figures in front of me became nothing more than shadows.

Then, a polished leather shoe stopped me from bowing again. Carter.

He nudged my chin up with his foot, forcing me to look at him. His gaze was cold, his voice even colder. "Kaitlyn, if you regret it so much now, why’d you do it in the first place?"

My whole body shook. I couldn’t stop it.

"I was wrong," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "I was really wrong. Please don’t hit me. I’ll confess, I’ll do whatever you want… Just let me go, please…"

Disgust flashed in his eyes. He leaned down and ripped the pillow from my arms, using it to wipe the blood from my forehead like I was something dirty.

Then he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "A year in that place and this is what you’ve become?" He let out a low laugh. "You should be thanking me. We could’ve thrown you in prison, but we let you off easy. And now you want sympathy?"

His grip tightened. "Everyone knows the mental hospital’s just a safe house for rich kids to dodge the law. So tell me, Kaitlyn, what the hell are you trying to pull with this little act?"