A Nice Long Soak by Mike Rader

I heard them climbing the stairs. Tourists. Mayday Hills Asylum attracted the morbid to Beechworth.

I waited on the second floor of that Victorian pile. In the bathroom. Where each tub has a sturdy wooden cover. Back in the day, only an inmate’s head was visible when the attendants poured scalding hot or freezing cold water over the poor unfortunate locked inside. Shock treatment, they called it.

Two kids entered. Gawking.

“Bet they screamed,” the boy said.

“Gross,” the girl said.

I smashed their heads together, bundled them into a bath, locked the lid.

Boiling hot water did the rest.