She laughs. A cold, hard laugh, completely unlike the one that came out of her earlier. "Doctor Monroe, would you like to know the best thing about bein’ considered insane by everyone ’round you?" I don't answer, but I don't think she's expecting me to because in the next second, she's answering her own question. "You can say words that are the absolute truth, and if it sounds a little far-fetched, they dismiss the whole thing as delusion."
"Why is that the best thing?" I ask, my heart starting to pound rapidly. Am I afraid of her? Yeah. Am I also turned on?
Unfortunately, also yes.
Maybe I need to checkmyselfinto this facility.
She smiles at me sharp and cutting. "What if I told you that every single alpha I killed was in preparation to come here? What if I said that I left a trail on my thirteenth kill, purposely connected myself to each murder, then waited patiently outside the burnt remains ofDaddy's old trailer for them to arrest me? What if I told you,Doctor Monroe, that I stabbed Doc Nelson in the leg with my shiv because I needed to get here, and that I'm runnin’ out of time? Would you call me delusional?"
If it were anyone else, my answer would be a resounding yes. But I've always had this…capability. A sixth sense. A gut feeling. An ability to tell whether or not someone is lying. I don't know if I'm just really good at reading people, or what else it could be, but when I look into Jo's eyes and see the pain she's trying to hide, the anger…I know she's not.
However, every single piece of information she just told me will put her in danger, and I can't let her know that I believe her. "Yes." The word burns coming out, and I'm not sure if I've ever felt worse than when I see that brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. "I wouldn't…" I clear my throat. "I wouldn't go sharing that around, Jo. Delusion or not, if the wrong person heard…"
"Got it. Looks like you're not that different after all." She rolls her eyes, crossing her legs. Her body couldn't be more closed off to me if she rolled into a ball like an armadillo. "We done here?"
I give her a sad smile. "No, we still have…" I check my watch, "fifteen minutes. But…" I sigh, motioning to my bookshelf. "I think we've done enough heavy stuff today. If you want to read a book off my bookshelf for the remainder of the time you're welcome to."
She eyes me warily a moment before sniffing and getting up to go to my bookshelf. I don't see what she picks, but I try not to let the little omega catch onto the fact that her new psychologist is completely and utterly obsessed with her.
five
Jo
IcannotbelieveI nearly spilled my entire plan to West.
As I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my absolute idiocy astounds me.
There's no telling where my outburst came from, why I froze like I did when he mentioned me stabbing Doc Nelson. It's not like I hadn't already mentioned it when he found me in the hall next to that guy…Lars.
What a stupid name.
I guess when he tossed my file aside and started talking to me like a person, I let my guard down a little. Then he had to go and analyze me. It had been like jumping into anice cold lake in the middle of winter. A shock to my senses. A deadly reminder that he is not my friend, not my…anything, no matterhowmuch of a hard time I had not undressing him with my eyes.
Seriously. The man has no business looking that good in a building full of mentally unstable people. Myself included.
There are an obscene amount of attractive people here. I would wonder if it’s a part of the requirements of working here, but one look at Brooks makes it obvious the answer is a resounding “no”.
Butcome on. Between Hayden, my sexy psychologist, and even the slightly-dangerous-looking alpha with him, I’m feeling like a kid in a candy store.
The way Hayden’s hazel eyes sparkled with humor really did something to me, even if he does chatter more than a squirrel.
But, it doesn’t matter how handsome the deranged hottie is. He’s off-limits, as is everyone here. Chasing after boys is not the reason I killed thirteen alphas. No. I need to keep my eyes on the prize, and focus on finding Mabel.
Twisting onto my side, I stare at the wall opposite me. The rooms are better than the Omega Rehabilitation Facility, that's for sure. A decent bed, a damn desk, and even a dresser. You know, for mytwouniforms.
Still way better than the ORF. Well, besides the walls. They're this soft buttery yellow color that Leslie claims helps promote "soothing thoughts", but really just gives me a hankering for popcorn.
Though I'm not sure if I'd be able to eat a single piece of popcorn with how stuffed I am. After my appointment with West, I met up with Adela outside, and she showed me how to get into my room. They left a pair of lavender sweats—the exact same shade as my jumpsuit—on the bed for pajamas, and I got my own hairbrush, hair ties,toothbrush, and toothpaste. Then we went to dinner and I gorged myself on lasagna and garlic bread.
Who knew murdering a whole bunch of guys could give me a better life than I grew up with?
Except the communal shower. I'm not looking forward tothat.
A faint squeaking catches my attention, and I frown, sitting up as my senses go on high alert. What in the…
The squeak sounds again.
I hop off the bed and follow the source of the noise, which leads to a small air vent in the corner of the room. The panicked squeaking only intensifies as I approach, and I use the shiv I made out of my broken plastic spork from dinner to pry the cover off the vent. The vent isn't any bigger than a shoe-box, and when the cover clatters to the floor, my brows shoot up.
