Page 6 of His Wicked Revenge

I tried being mean to the woman. I tried scaring her off with my bitchy attitude, but she didn’t seem to fucking care. She’s been attached to me like a lost puppy. It got to the point I just allowed it because I knew I wouldn’t be staying in Cali long.

“I’m busy. I can’t hang out tonight.”

“What?” She shifts in her chair and lowers her sunglasses until they are resting on the bridge of her nose.

“I’m busy.” I don’t have anything planned, but I have to make an excuse because if I spend one more day with this girl, I will end up killing her. That would not be a good idea, considering I’m trying to lay low.

“Fine.” She breathes out a sigh of annoyance and sinks back into her chair. “Tomorrow night, then.”

I hum in response. There will be no tomorrow night because I’m leaving Malibu. I’m afraid I’ve already overstayed my welcome here.

I pull out the phone that Slater gave me and open a new search engine tab. The bus schedule is on the screen, and I chew my bottom lip as I scan the potential places to go.

Maybe I’ll go to Las Vegas to see what all the fuss is about. Then, after that, I could go to Arizona. Or I could visit my new identity’s home in Colorado. I don't have a place to live there, but I could do some sightseeing. Research, if you will. If someone asks me something about Colorado, I can easily answer it.

Deciding Vegas is the good first choice, I view the bus times for tomorrow and choose to leave right at seven in the morning. The faster I can get out of California and away from the woman beside me, the better.

The purchase is made, and as I am about to close out of the website, my fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting to look him up. After leaving Leo in the woods, I’m unsure what happened to him.

Did he die? Did he get caught?

Swallowing hard, I type his name, followed by Seattle, Washington.

I’m holding my breath until news articles appear with titles that inform me he is still alive. A breath of relief leaves my body because I didn’t want to kill him. The stab was only to injure him, which seems to have done its job.

My eyes scan over the words in the first article I clicked on. The headline reads:

Seattle Psychiatrist Taken to Prison for Helping Patient from Asylum Escape.

He was taken to prison.

The thought of Leo in prison churns my stomach as I remember how much of a scared little cat he was when he arrived at the asylum. I saw the fear on his face, that emotion he attempted to hide when he was around the patients for the first time.

How is he going to hold up in prison?

Throughout the article, the writer twists the words to make people assume that I tricked or blackmailed him into helping me escape. I guess the first assumptions are valid. I did trick him. I manipulated him into getting what I wanted.

However, Leo could have easily kept his word and turned my offer down like he initially did. Him being sent to prison is on both of us.

There are a few comments from people feeling sorry for Leo, while others are tearing him down and stating that he should be locked up in a psych ward just like I was.

If the thought of Leo being in prison makes my stomach twist, the idea of him being placed in an asylum makes that feeling twist even more until it’s hard to breathe.

I continue to read until I find my name. Details about my appearance are listed, along with a picture of me. Thank Satan, I changed my appearance so drastically. The line under my photo states: The escapee is still on the loose. If you see this woman, please contact Black Lake Asylum or Seattle authorities.

There is nothing more to it—no sighting where I was last seen because the last time anyone saw me was in the asylum. Leo was the only person to see me outside those walls, and after that? No one knows where I ran off to.

And it will stay that way.

CHAPTER 4

Leo

It’s been three weeks since I’ve been in prison, and I still haven’t spoken to a judge or called home. The latter is probably my fault because I was asked if I wanted to make a call, and I declined. I still have no idea what I will tell my family and Myles. I need more time to think about the right words to say.

I haven’t seen a judge yet because they are apparently busy with more important issues. What a load of shit. They aren’t in a rush to see me and could care less that I am waiting behind bars. So here I am, sitting in prison, not having a clue how long my sentence will be.

I shared the back of the transport van with another inmate who was also leaving the hospital. We were both handcuffed to our seats. Where we were sitting was silent, cut off from the noise up front by a metal sliding door, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.