The esteem raising my chest high deflates when Dexter slaps his hand over my mouth before dragging me inside the security office. I nearly wail and scream. The only reason I don’t is because my eyes lock on the clock clanging noisily in the corner of the room. The staff’s change of guard is over. We’re seconds away from being busted.
Oh no.
As tears roll down my cheeks unchecked, my jumbled mind strives for a solution. It took me hours to build up the courage to enter Dexter’s room, but instead of being awarded for my valor, for the umpteenth time in my life, my inability to follow the rules will unfairly strip away my will to live.
I can’t go back to the hospital I transferred from two months ago. The staff members were mean. They didn’t understand me. They hurt, poked, and prodded me twenty-four hours a day.
I can’t do that again.
Iwon’tdo that again.
With my hands clamped over my ears, I curl into a ball and rock.
I want the pain to end.
I want the mean voices in my head to stop yelling at me.
But more than anything, I want to be free.
five
DEXTER
Ishift my wide gaze to Claudia, expecting hers to hold the same amount of excitement as mine. I’m not sure if anything happening is real or a figment of my imagination, but I do know one thing—I haven’t experienced anything this thrilling in years.
Just the thought of getting caught has my cock pressed against my zipper and my heart leaping in my chest. I miss the adrenaline that comes from doing what I like when I like. Conformity has never been a part of my life. I like things messy and complicated. I like my world completely fucked-up.
The thrill scorching my veins fades when my eyes lock on Claudia. Hers aren’t carrying the same eagerness as mine. I can’t even see them since she’s cowered in the corner, rocking like she is seconds from a meltdown.
I glare at her like she’s an illusion. My response is the same I gave when she entered my room nearly thirty minutes ago. I thought she was a mirage, a byproduct of the trillion sedatives the staff pumped me with when our tussle earlier today turned violent.
I am so out of my fucking mind, I spent half my night talking to the dragon tattoo on my shoulder, unhappy at its attempt to bite me. It was only when Claudia’s fruity shampoo lingered into my nostrils did I realize I wasn’t delusional.
She was hesitant to release me from the restraints Lee and his minions used to contain me. Rightfully so. Even though my brain felt seconds away from exploding in my skull when I pinned her to my bed, my body didn’t respond with anywhere near as much disdain. My cock was hard as a rock, and my relief in the shower this morning was a forgotten memory.
Although pissed at my body’s response to Claudia’s nearness, it can be easily excused. The longer I stalked her, the more intriguing she became. Usually, I read women like open books, the joy of discovering their every secret revealed in under an hour.
That hasn’t happened with Claudia. Even watching her like a hawk the prior six weeks hasn’t unraveled the woman behind the muted stance.
She isn’t just an onion.
She is many layers of fucked-up.
There’s only one thing I’ve unearthed. Claudia isn’t mute because she can’t speak. A million thoughts streamed from her eyes when she glanced at the magazine article last month. She just prefers expressing herself without words.
For the most part, I find her quirks amusing. But right now, I don’t have time for humor.
I always knew Claudia was my ticket out of here. I just had no fucking clue she was also the key. I shouldn’t be surprised. There was something in her eyes last month that warned she was a game-changer. That doesn’t necessarily mean starting a new game. It could merely mean she is initiating an old one—one I’ve been waiting years to finalize—one I can’t wait to get back to.
After pinning her to the wall by her throat, Ashlee was hesitant to interact with me, but once I supplied her enough benzos to take down three grown men, she miraculously became less reluctant. She filled in the gaps Claudia’s eyes failed to reveal.
Just like me, Claudia isn’t here because she is psychotic. From what we can gather, she merely obsessed over the wrong man. That’s why she reacted the way she did when she saw the magazine article last month. The man she wants had his arm wrapped around another woman—a petite blonde the report stated is his wife and the mother of his two children. His name is Nicholas Holt. He is the lead guitarist of Rise Up—the same band Marcus is a member of.
Although shocked about our bizarre connection, I have no intention of aiding Claudia with her dilemma. I’m merely continuing the game I initiated weeks ago. Tonight’s development is the last piece of the puzzle. I didn’t bite Lee because I wanted my brain drained. I did it because I knew Claudia was watching.
She can’t articulate it, but I know she’s grown fond of me the past few weeks.
I can’t blame her. When I bring out the charm, the ladies don’t stand a chance. Her arrival at my room in the middle of the night confirms my assumption that she’s right where I want her.
