Stained Red by My Perfect Compliance Chapter 1

Three years in that facility had tamed me.

I was compliant. Docile. I did what I was told.

When my older sister, Camille, came to pick me up, she recoiled almost instantly.

“Still wearing that corpse-like expression, Ash? You will not bring that face home.”

I simply nodded, then bent down, picked up a shard of broken glass near my feet, and drew it across my own face.

Camille went instantly pale, staring at the fresh crimson bloom.

Back at the house, my adopted brother, Noah, cornered me, his eyes sharp with menace.

“Just so you know, coming back changes nothing. I can still make you disappear.”

Before I could respond, he snatched a baseball bat from the corner and ruthlessly slammed it against his own forearm.

“It’s okay, Ash. Whatever you need to do, big brother. I deserve it if it makes you feel better.”

Jocelyn, my fiancée, walked in just in time to see Noah clutching his arm, his face twisted in pain. Her expression hardened instantly.

“Apologize to Noah, Ashton. Now. Or else…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. I turned, bolted to the third-floor balcony, and vaulted over the railing. I landed with a sickening crunch directly in front of my parents who were just stepping out of the elevator.

“Ah!”

Mom’s scream was a guttural, piercing sound of pure horror.

Dad frantically pulled out his phone to call 911, his face ash-gray.

Jocelyn, usually a portrait of composure, had finally lost her cool. Her pupils shrank as she froze on the spot.

On the way to the ER, Noah scrambled to clear himself:

“This isn’t my fault, okay? He jumped. I couldn’t stop him.”

I spat up a mouthful of blood and nodded weakly in agreement.

Three years in the asylum had taught me my role: I was the tragic hero of a dark, twisted story. The voices—the insistent, droning commentary in my head—told me that only through absolute obedience, followed by death, could I return to my original world.

* * *

I survived. My internal injuries were severe, but they managed to pull me back from the brink.

Jocelyn watched me, her brow furrowed. She turned to Noah.

“What the hell happened between you and Ash? I asked him for an apology. Why did he throw himself off a balcony?”

Noah shrugged innocently, running a hand through his hair.

“I have no idea. He just… decided to jump. It had nothing to do with me.”

Camille, who had been silent, immediately stepped in front of Noah, shielding him. She glared at Jocelyn.

“You’re his fiancée, and you’re siding with Ash over Noah? Don’t pretend you don’t know how sick Ashton is. He’s always been cruel, and he hates Noah! He was probably just trying to frame him.”

Jocelyn started to protest, but Mom cut her off, looking displeased with Camille.

“Enough, Cami! Ash is your brother too. He’s barely clinging to life after what he just did. Just keep quiet.”

Dad scowled, his unspoken disapproval heavy in the air.

Camille snapped. She marched over, grabbed my hand, and yanked me up in the bed.

“Still acting? What did I tell you before we left the clinic? Forget everything already? You cause trouble the second you walk back in! If you really want to die, why didn’t you find a taller building? Did you count on the flowerbed to break your fall, you disgusting coward?”

The voices in my head pulsed with a cold, urgent fear. Obey. Obey. I pulled the IV needle out of my hand and shoved Camille away. My gaze locked onto the half-open hospital window.

“Fine,” I managed, my voice a broken rasp. “I’ll give you what you want.”

My foot was already on the ledge. I thought: This is it. Freedom.

But Jocelyn reacted instantly. She lunged, wrapping her arms around my torso, pulling me back with surprising strength. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The pure, unadulterated terror in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Stop it, Ashton! Enough!”

Mom was there next, gripping my arm so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Ash, what are you doing?!”

I forced a smile, a grimace that felt colder than any tears.

“I’m okay, Mom. I’m fine.”

The voices had warned me: my time here was running out. I had to obey their commands, or I would meet a fate worse than the death I craved. I needed a clean exit.

But Camille just saw it as a calculated performance.

Her face was contorted in fury. “You won’t quit, will you, Ashton? You’re afraid we’ll blame you for hurting Noah’s arm, so you’re putting on this pathetic show for us! It won't work!”

Noah, ever the collaborator, clutched his bruised arm dramatically.

“It’s okay, sis. Don’t blame him. It was just one hit. I’m a man; I can handle it.”

But this time, Dad hesitated. He did the unthinkable: he yelled at Camille.

“Are you even his sister, Cami? He’s lying in a hospital bed! Do you think this can be faked?”

Then he turned to Noah, his voice low and dangerous. “Noah, tell me the truth. What happened in the living room?”

Camille and Noah stared at Dad, stunned.

Noah sighed dramatically. “Dad, I swear I didn’t lie.”

Jocelyn finally spoke, looking at Noah’s swollen arm. A flicker of pity or perhaps resignation crossed her eyes. “There’s a security camera in the living room. But when I came in… I did see Ash hit Noah. That part is undeniable.”

Camille sneered at me, her eyes brimming with disgust.

Watching them argue over me, a chilling clarity settled in. Obey. They said I hurt Noah. They needed me to pay.

I waited until their focus shifted, grabbed the nearest object—a sharp, chrome fruit knife from the bedside tray—and brought it to my neck, drawing the blade across my skin with all the force I could muster.

Arterial spray instantly painted the room. Camille, standing closest, was splattered with crimson.

Noah’s eyes widened in horror.

Mom screamed once and crumpled to the floor.

Jocelyn, trembling, frantically yelled for a nurse. Chaos erupted.

I closed my eyes, the deep relief of a promise kept washing over me.