Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CARA
‘ W e’re a family here Miss Morgrieves—we need to connect with our residents.’
I replay Lenora’s words in my head, the friendly edge they have in my thoughts nothing like the terse way she’d spat them at me.
I had connected with Mr. Greenblat yesterday, a lifer who apparently liked to skin women and wear them like meat suits in his hey-day; I decided the ‘put the lotion in the basket’ joke my brain concocted on the spot wouldn’t be appreciated, so I kept it to myself.
My moment of distraction as I reminded myself of the professional etiquette Lenora insisted I adopt, when I lowered to my knees to help him with his shoe, was the exact moment unassuming, greying Mr. Greenblat decided to whip his shrivelled cock out, licking his lips as he offered it to me, like the breakfast room was the best place to present it.
The blood curdling scream that barrelled out of my mouth had him running for the hills.
That was more than enough connecting for one day.
I shudder at the memory and inch closer to the small round table as patients filter into the rec room around me for their weekly class.
I refuse to be caught off guard again, so I’ve opted for the table in the corner where I can have my back pressed up against the wall. No dicks in my face today.
“So, newbie, how long has it been?” A petite girl in her late twenties takes the seat next to me and tugs her sleek black ponytail tighter as she loudly chews on her gum around her question.
Her lip ring hits her teeth as she tongues the popped bubble back into her mouth.
Her makeup is heavy, but also so seamlessly applied, her skin looks like it has a filter attached.
The obvious answer to her question is with another question, ‘how long has it been since what,’ but as she’s dressed in the same uniform as I am, and I’m the most recent face added to the team, I use a little of the brainpower I have left after my ordeal yesterday and take a stab at it.
“One week, four days, and a fair few hours. Mentally a decade. Time seems to move slower here,” I say glancing down at the mini clock hanging from my pocket, and she beams across at me.
I’ve been here nearly two weeks, and I still don’t feel settled, as though I’m always being watched, but I decided to keep that to myself.
Talks of voices in my head and being watched by invisible forces won’t end well for me in a place like this.
“I’ve also had four cocks waved at me in that time.
I feel like the idea of chastity belts needs to be raised at the next staff meeting,” I titter, my nerves settling a little.
‘Not the cock you’ve wanted though,’ my brain adds unhelpfully as I catch Ezra entering the room out of the corner of my eye.
“Cock talk before lunch—as I suspected, we’ll get on just fine.
I know we’re not officially allowed friends here at Blackwood, or anywhere else for that matter, but the boss lady doesn’t have to know.
” Her winged black liner, natural resting bitch face, and her red-wine-coloured lipstick would more than likely make Raven seem unapproachable to most, but there is a kindness in her violet eyes that I haven’t felt from another female since leaving Suzy in Hollow Hills.
It feels good to have someone to talk to here.
“So Mrs. Blackwood questioned you on your friends history too then?” I ask, happy to be chatting with someone my own age for once. I hadn’t thought much of it, but Raven is the first nurse I’ve seen working the same shift as me since I started.
“Yeah, it seems standard; a few of the girls that have come and gone all seem to fit the same mould. Broken homes and brutal histories. It kind of makes sense in a twisted way—us caring for these patients. We’re all as fucked up as each other—the only exception is we’re the ones trusted with the keys.
Our shifts are usually solo unless it’s ‘craft day, ’”—she air quotes the words and gestures around the room, nodding her head towards the new feature of two heavily armed guards at the door looking like they are about to enter a Call of Duty sniper attack—“because of all the sharp weaponry.” She laughs, jabbing a crochet hook at me playfully.
“Can’t have some lunatic let loose with all these tools. ”
As if on cue, the jigsaw buzzes to life behind us, making me jump.
“Something about creative expression being the windows to our souls or something equally blah, five hours of fingerpainting if you ask me,” Raven adds mockingly like she thinks it’s all bullshit.
“Lenora likes to think if she keeps the patients busy, it will stop them fucking like bunnies every chance they get. Crazy or not, the natural urge to fuck is just too strong in some of these people to be waylaid by painting pasta shell frames and crocheting loo roll holders.”
“So you’ve been here a while?” I ask, trying to sound upbeat.
“Long enough. There are special benefits to being in a place like this, newbie. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that some of Blackwood’s finest psychos are all kinds of delicious.” She smirks; I follow her hungry hooded gaze as it tracks across the room and zeros in on Ezra.
Jealousy burns through me, sharp and unwelcome. I have no claim to him, no right to care, but that doesn’t stop the weight pressing down heavily on my chest, that feeling gnawing at me from the inside out.
“I mean, the things I’d let that man do to me,” Raven coos, and I have to tamp down the violence boiling in my gut. She’s lovely, and I shouldn’t want to grab a fistful of her hair and smash her face into the glass doors, but I do, and the urge to hurt her scares me.
“You’ve slept with the patients?” I pry, fiddling with the hem of my dress to keep my fingers busy, my jaw tight under the stress of my grinding teeth as I wait for her answer.
“Ezra has never been interested. The man is unshakeable. I bet he has one of those weird kinks where the girl has to be dressed as a horse or comatose or something before he can touch her. I’ve heard it all here.”
I sigh, tension seeping from my limbs. He hasn’t touched her.
He doesn’t want her. I shouldn’t be so relieved, but I am.
I can’t expect him to be some saint—not with the way he looks, the way he moves.
The way his scent alone has me feral. At some point, I’ll have to face reality, take a good hard look in the mirror, and consider what it is that I’m hoping will happen here.
Because as I’ve reminded myself every night since I got here: he’s off limits.
“I don’t think the beast of Blackwood plays well with others,” she adds, disappointment at that fact heavy in her rushed sigh as she licks her lips. “Not for lack of trying…”
Green with envy at the mere thought of her succeeding, that irrational urge to grab her by her ponytail and stake my claim sticks in my throat.
Shrugging her shoulders, she adds brightly, “There’s always other options.
” The raging temptress inside me puts down her pitchfork.
I’m only half listening as Raven launches into a detailed guess who game, the patient fuck buddy edition, as she points out the pairings in the room, some more surprising than others.
“The beast of Blackwood?” I repeat breathily, mostly to myself, unable to tear my gaze away from Ezra as though I’m testing the nickname to see if it truly suits him.
“My beast…” I don’t mean for the words to leave my mouth and quickly glance at Raven to assess the damage of my outburst, moving so fast something pulls in my neck.
Thankfully, she’s none the wiser of my musings, too entranced with her view of the Knox brothers.
Her voice is liquid silk as she asks the question, “Ever been locked in a Chinese finger trap sort of situation?” She asks, twisting a curl of her black hair around her finger as she chomps around a fresh wad of neon pink gum.
Whispering between themselves, one of the brothers smirks back at Raven when she twiddles her fingers in a girlish wave like some 19 th century lady of a manor.
Rubbing my neck, I ask, “What’s with the cowboy hats?” There is a no-shits-given aura about these two men. Handsome and rugged, I can see the appeal.
“Lenora lets them tend to the horses. Apparently they come from a farm background or something. I had a rummage around the records room when I first got here, but there’s very little in their file. Everyone’s files are a little on the light side if you ask me.”
“So Lenora doesn’t mind you getting friendly with the patients?” My ulterior motives with this question would be obvious as I am the worst liar known to mankind, but thankfully her attention is still directed at the Yellowstone hotties in the corner.
“You’ve heard her speech—we’ve all been subjected to it. We’re all family friendly in this place. Besides, we don’t do much talking…if you catch my drift,” she comments sweetly with an arched brow as she licks her lips and continues the little eye-fucking session she’s currently lost in.
“Consider the drift caught.” I chuckle awkwardly as I ponder some extracurricular time alone with Ezra. Watching a guy manhandle a sheet of thin leather shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
Jeremy strolls past and drops a basket of crafts on the table between us.
I smile up at him as he turns, grimacing in sympathy when I see his two black eyes and busted nose.
The smattering of freckles masked by the mottled purple bruising creeping out across his cheekbones on either side of his swollen face.
“That had to have hurt. Workplace incident? Or were you snooping where you shouldn’t be?
You could sue, you know.” Raven smirks, the faux concern in her voice betrayed by the amusement in her eyes.
It’s clear Raven has zero sympathy for him.
I put a pin in it and make a point to ask her about it later.
“I walked into a door,” he throatily replies, refusing to make eye contact with me, wheezing as he struggles to take in air. Before I can wish him well, he hurries off to the next table without even acknowledging my presence. It isn’t my strangest interaction of the day, so I shrug it off.
At least he didn’t wave his cock in your face.
I’m grateful for small mercies.
When we were told today’s class would be taught by Felicity Finesse, I imagined a pole dancer in a sequined bikini and some sort of aerobics show.
I’ve known a few Felicitys in my time, so when the aging lady draped in a kaftan with grey beaded braids strolls in, her arms decorated with bangles up to the elbows, I snort a laugh that commands the attention of the entire room.
The walls feel like they are closing in as all eyes fall on me.
My cheeks flush crimson,the heat crawling up my neck as I tug at my collar.
Where’s Mr. Greenblat with his mini toaster strudel when you need him?
“My mortification could use a dose of elderly man with his dick out for the room to gape at right now. “
It takes me a second to realise I’ve said the second half of that thought out loud.
My mouth running off while my brain scrambles to hit the brakes—like a sane person would.
Clearly, reading a room and shutting the hell up aren’t my strong suits.
Raven’s violet eyes are wide, her mouth agape in shock.
“Today’s therapy will be creating something with someone else in mind.
Giving is the best medicine—it rejuvenates the soul,” Felicity croons, her jewellery jingling like wind chimes.
Soothing, in theory, but as I shift uncomfortably in my seat, awkwardly grinning every time she looks my way—waiting for my next bout of word vomit—I feel anything but calm.
I don’t risk a glance at Ezra until the tinny murmur of conversation amongst the patients in the room picks up again.
Even gurgling Greta, who hasn’t stopped making that god awful noise since I arrived, had gone silent long enough to watch me die a social death.
When I finally look his way, I swear I see his lips twitch—laughter lurking just beneath the surface.
But, thankfully, he doesn’t pin me with that hooded gaze this time.
Instead, he sets to work focusing on his leather creation, deft calloused hands moving with effortless skill.
I grab for the stained glass inserts from the basket and a paint palette.
Colour by numbers—at least this is something I can’t fuck up.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” Raven splutters, hiding her face behind her hand as though my humiliation is catching.
Someone stating the obvious the way she has would usually annoy me, but instead, I laugh along with her.
Shouting about cock is hardly the most embarrassing thing i’ve ever done and i’m sure as fuck it won’t be the last.