Charlotte Sartre Assylum Guide

The nurse finally turned. Her face was deeply lined, her eyes the color of wet slate. “We don’t use your fancy words here, Doctor. We use the truth. That woman got lost inside herself. Happens to the best of them.”

Lena looked up at the jars. There were far more than eighty-nine. There were hundreds. The logbook only documented the “successful” extractions. The others—the ones whose memories had been too volatile, too large—must have been kept elsewhere. charlotte sartre assylum

Lena’s hand went to her throat. “You perform lobotomies.” The nurse finally turned

“When she was twelve, she drew a picture of the well from memory. It wasn’t a well. It was a wound. A cut in the earth that went down and down and never stopped. And at the bottom, she said, there was a door. She never opened it. But she said something lived behind it, and it knew her name.” We use the truth