After being found guilty of first-degree murder, sixteen-year-old June Foster is sentenced to life at Washington Pines Sanitarium.
June remains convinced that she was right to kill a man she knew was evil, but as time goes on in the asylum, she begins to question everything she knows. Or thought she knew.
As the events leading up to her incarceration are recounted, she begins to understand that the web she finds herself in is far bigger and stickier than she ever imagined. The warden of the facility, both violent and vindictive, is intent on making June’s life a living hell.
June’s previous boyfriend, beautiful turquoise-eyed Frank, is the only one she can trust. Or is he?
Caught in the middle of child experimentation with untested drugs, arson, and murders, June Foster is reduced to two options—accept the fact that she has gone crazy, or hatch an escape plan from the asylum to get her life back.
Set in America during the 1950s, Asylum is a book you will not be able to put down. The author pulls you along relentlessly in a page-turning thriller that leaves you wanting more with each sentence—to a mind-blowing and unexpected conclusion you will not believe.
Buy your copy today!
Those few moments of wringing my hands together in the Jeep felt like hours. I turned over every possible scenario in my head. Frank struck by a burning beam; Frank sunk in a burned-out floorboard; Frank gone forever before he even had the chance to take me to the movies. Just as I was picturing his faded jeans engulfed in flames, there he was, running out the front door carrying a mass of bodies. I counted four heads among the bobbing limbs. There was Bitsy and her husband Charles, one across each of Frank’s shoulders, and Dolly and Charles Jr, one cupped under each hulking arm like human footballs. I knew Frank was strong, but Jesus. He was running at an impossible pace down the porch steps and across the grass toward me. Sirens finally echoed across the pastures. Help was coming.
I jumped out of the Jeep as Frank dumped the Flannigans down on the grass.
Frank tackled me to the grass as the house exploded in a ball of flame, a monstrous boom announcing the house’s demise. The world went quiet, replaced by a loud ringing in my ears. Frank was on top of me, the weight of his body forcing me to pant for breath. All my lungs could come up with was smoke. Then I realized that it wasn’t just Frank’s weight that was crushing me—a giant piece of wood from the explosion had landed squarely across his back. It was on fire.
“Frank! Frank!” I hit his arm and screamed. At least I hoped I was screaming; without being able to hear there was no way to gauge the volume of my voice. “Frank!” I pounded his shoulder. He finally pushed himself up, dazed.
“Are you okay, June?” The fire from the beam had spread to his jacket.
“Your back! Your back!” I pointed. He peered over his shoulder and with one hand grabbed the giant beam, flinging it ten yards across the grass. He rose and casually slid off his flaming leather jacket as if it weren’t a thousand degrees and melting even as he pulled his arms from the sleeves. I laid on the grass staring in disbelief. He reached out a hand to help me up.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” He came close and spoke directly into my ringing ear.
“Are you okay, June?” I nodded.
Without another word he grabbed my hand and we were running back to the Jeep. Frank tossed me in the passenger seat, turned the ignition and we were off. I screamed words of protest (was I screaming? I was certainly trying), but he didn’t seem to hear or care. As we sped away I turned to see the kids attempting to sit up. That was a good sign. Charles was hunched over his wife’s body, shaking her. He looked like he was screaming. Bitsy didn’t move.
The Fire Department would be here soon and they would have questions. We had to stay. We had to help. But every objection seemed lost on Frank. The Jeep was already cutting out through the back pasture and bumping through the orchards.