Chapter Fourteen
The dimly lit office walls hold me as my thoughts begin to suffocate me. Each step of my pacing comes with a new and unwanted thought.
Lilith is dead.
Kameron once again took everything from me.
The people around me can’t be trusted.
I was so close to escaping.
Lilith is fucking dead.
My spiraling sends me into a mental frenzy as the wooden door of my office slams harshly against the wall.
The thoughts quiet and all I can imagine is the dent it’s going to leave.
Two men barge into the space, but my eyes can’t seem to leave that space of the wall, the door closing so I can see how far the indent from the handle is.
I bite the inside of my cheek, pondering on how I can go about fixing it.
Will I need new paint? The stark white dry wall pokes out of the dark green paint, like a black sheep in a herd full of white and grey.
The coppery taste of blood trickles its way onto my taste buds as I continue to zone in on the imperfection of my office.
Everything around me has been in shambles since he took Lilith.
Every aspect of The Garden has been ransacked by my desire to get her back, and in return the cracks around me have begun to grow.
The loose ends of the workers appear more obvious, the errors in security standing out like a sore thumb, and now there’s a fucking dent in my wall.
I’m definitely going to need new paint.
“Sir?” One of the men questions after minutes of me not bothering to acknowledge them pass on by.
I glare my eyes over to him before looking back at the dent.
I watch from my peripheral as he awkwardly shuffles his body to see what I’m staring at.
“Do you know how to control your body?” I question, keeping a steady tone to my voice.
My gaze tracks its way back over to the man who pushed the door open, his confusion stares back at me.
“Does anyone in this fucking facility know how to do anything really?” I add on, a chuckle escaping me as the last words leave my lips.
On impulse I charge over to my desk, grabbing a small statue of Mary, and chucking it towards the door.
The porcelain shatters on contact, scattering pieces throughout the front of the office.
“Since everyone is done caring about anything that my uncle has worked for, I figured I’d join in on the destruction,” I laugh out, finally sitting down at my desk.
The strands holding me together fray even more as the two men gawk at me.
Little do they fucking know how well I am holding it together, I think to myself, bouncing my foot against the ground to keep the itching thoughts at bay.
If I wasn’t holding out hope of revenge, this entire place would’ve been burnt to the ground by now, with me in it.
But with this place comes power, and with power comes the wrath I can bring down onto Kameron.
The bastard will know what hell on earth feels like.
“Sir, we found her,” the taller of two states, desperate to let go of the uncomfortable conversation that was beginning to unfold.
The smile on my face slowly dies until I’m staring back with nothing but a vacant look.
His words sober me in an instant, my manic high shriveling away.
“Found who?” I question, pleading with my thoughts to not drag my hope back from the grave.
I can’t take losing her twice. I’ve spent so long grieving for my girl, I can’t do it again.
“Lilith Jones, sir.” The other man speaks up, stepping forwards to place a small stack of polaroid pictures on the wooden desk between us. I eye the photos with caution as he continues on. “She was in the company of Adam Moore and Kameron Lethki. We were able to secure Adam…”
I zone him out as I stare down at the photo on top. A picture of Lilith gazing out of a frost bitten window stares back at me. Her cheeks flushed with color a corpse could never hold.
Hope like I’ve never known before swarms deep inside me.
I pull the photo closer, taking in any detail I can.
It’s from a distance, so there’s not much else to grasp.
But it’s unmistakable it’s her. Her midnight black hair frames her pale face, her rose colored lips plump as ever. My beautiful girl. You’re alive.
My heart races as I lean forward to pick up the rest of the pile when my movements get cut off short.
“Sir, what do you want us to do with him?” The guard looks at me with a quizzical glare, almost as if he wasn’t sure who he was talking to.
My thoughts finally snap back into place and I let my hand fall to the desk below it.
The cool wood against my skin helps center me as I flip through the remnants of the conversation.
Who? I think to myself, stealing a focused look at the men in front of me. A beat of silence goes by before the man speaks up once again.
“Adam Moore, sir. He’s being held in an empty patient room.” My eyes widen with shock. One of the three musketeers has been taken out of the trio. A genuine smile nudges at the corner of my lips.
“East wing, please.”