Chapter Twenty #2
“You freed me,” I correct him, sitting forward, putting our faces in line.
He doesn’t budge. “The attempts were futile, and you knew that. That’s why you left without a second thought…
Because you didn’t want to face what we both knew what inevitable.
There is no cure for evil, is there, Dr. Love?
If there were, you’d have given it to him by now… ”
Squinting at me, he rumbles, “ Evil is not a diagnosis. It’s a word used to scare people into acting right. I’m not interested in morality, or philosophical ideations.”
“Says the man whose patients are running around taking lives like tickets at a deli.” I roll my eyes.
“You can blame me all you want, but you chose to make those things happen, Trevel,” he counters. “You’re both desperate for a reprieve from the noise in your head and terrified of losing it.”
My fingers curl into a fist that tightens and releases. Heart racing, the utter irritation of how right he always is weighting me in place on the couch.
We’re both silent for a moment, glaring. It amazes me how much can flow between two people without speaking a word.
Like with Byron yesterday in the shower…
Sucking in a breath, I hold it for a moment before murmuring, “I have missed our sessions, Doctor. Hopefully, we can pick up where we’d left off in Atlanta, only now with a clearer understanding of what it is we’re both looking for.”
He sits back in his seat, assessing me once more. “And what are we both looking for?”
To win. “Peace.” I shrug, spouting nonsense in an attempt to brush him off because I’m already over this. “And acceptance.”
He’s admitted that he abandoned me, and that he feels no remorse.
But he will.
“That’s good to hear, Trevel,” he says. “I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you.”
My teeth grind to dust as I shoot him a grin so fake it’s about to snap my face in two. “Mm… I’m sure you have.”
You self-righteous fucking cunt.
“So…” He rubs his hands together. “Should I plan on seeing you in a few days?”
“Whatever you want.”
It’s what you’re going to do, anyway.
Dr. Love nods curtly, picking his notepad back up and casually scribbling something down. Without glancing up, he asks, “By the way, how are you getting on here? I know it can be a bit of an adjustment.”
Standing up, I peer around his small, drab office. “Actually, I’m fairing quite well.”
To my surprise, that gets him. His eyes shift up to mine. “Is that so?”
I nod and pull another patronizing smile, this time less forced. Ah, so he was looking forward to me struggling in here?
How sweet.
My gaze is sparkling a palpable malevolence. “As it turns out, Alabaster Pen might just be somewhere I could truly thrive.”
Shooting him a wink, I wander away, heading for the door, unable to miss the puzzled flash in his eyes at how I seem to be coming and going on my own.
My smirk widens, and I wave. “Have a lovely evening, Doctor.”
I leave his office with the click of his door behind me, puffing out a long breath I feel like I’ve been holding for an hour. Closing my eyes, I rake my fingers through my hair, composing myself.
Well… that sucked.
For all of my hostility and brazen behavior, I’m still not sure that I accomplished anything of value, and I loathe this feeling of uncertainty.
I didn’t get any information for The Ivory, and I barely made a dent in Dr. Love.
Although, let’s be real, getting him even five percent worked up is no small feat.
Plus, this is a marathon, not a sprint.
Regardless, I can’t deny that my body is all keyed up from being near him again, the rage swirling together with how regrettably sexy I still happen to find him.
I despise him for turning his back on me, then gaslighting me into thinking it was no big deal. Oh, it all worked out, didn’t it? Look, we’re back together. Why are you so bent out of shape??
Bugger off.
I will get my revenge on Dr. Lemuel Love, regardless of how long it takes or what I have to endure to get it. And in order to do that, I’ll need to disobey Manuel’s wishes just a tad.
Spinning on my heel, I stride up the halls of the East Wing. Kent informed me that Manuel has some new people working in his control rooms, and that they’ve been instructed to let me move about freely— you guessed it… Within reason.
It seems as if many things are changing here at Alabaster Pen, with the arrival of the new guards, who apparently were brought in with the express purpose of undermining the former team— Officer Daddy and Mommy, also known as Velle and Joy, and their band of merry menaces.
I’m not surprised by the restructuring. The Ivory said as much during our last meeting.
It doesn’t affect me, seeing that I had no real attachments to the former crew.
But I will say, the no-talking order is a buzzkill, especially now that I have Byron.
Figures, as soon as I’m no longer alone, we’re ordered into silence.
These new guards seem to be all business, no pleasure. Boring.
I can’t complain, though. I have much more freedom than the average inmate, lucky boy that I am. What I choose to do with that freedom is where I’ll leave a lasting impression .
Skipping up and down the corridors, I’m snooping, because why not? Peeking into every padded cell, observing the lonely, mistreated lumps of sadness who reside here in the prison’s asylum. When I look inside the cell on the end, I freeze.
It’s Warren Xavier. Ren . He’s sitting on the floor, laced up in a straitjacket.
Eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall.
I’m not sure if he’s sleeping or just resting his eyes while contemplating the clearly grim state of his existence.
Either way, I take a moment to grin wickedly at his misfortune.
Even if he wasn’t such a wanker to me during our every encounter, I’d still revel in his discomfort. Because he’s Byron’s ex-fling, or whatever they’d chosen to call it, and that makes me hate him.
Petty and jealous are two things I’ve never hidden about myself.
Byron claims that he and Ren fooled around casually, but clearly, it happened often enough that Byron formed some sort of attachment to Ren, the thought of which has been driving me a bit mad.
Why is he able to hook up with Ren so freely, yet with me , it’s like pulling teeth? What does this Ren character have that I don’t?
Is Ren easier than me? Is that it??
I can be what he needs… Even if it destroys him in the process.
“Always projecting your issues onto others…”
The voice snaps my face around in search of him. Leo??
Fuck, where are you??
Sighing out of defeat, I give one last lingering look to my competition , who, thankfully, is down here for the foreseeable future.
Enjoy your stay, sweetheart.
Heading back in the other direction, I search for the room. It takes me a bit, since all of these corridors look alike. But eventually, I find the door I committed to memory, and knock.
A moment of quiet passes before a soft voice calls out, “Hello?”
“ Hi , Felix.” I grin at the door. “May I come in?”
He sounds closer when he asks, “Trevel…?”
“Aww, you remembered.”
The distinct click of him turning a lock is followed by the door opening just a crack. And there’s Felix Darcey peering through the opening at me, black-framed glasses outlining his bewildered expression.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, almost mousy in his soft-spoken passiveness.
I’m amazed that this cute little ball of terror actually murdered over thirty people and captivated a straight doctor of the mind. He seems far too insecure for all of it.
Is that what Dr. Love likes? Vulnerability paired with impulse control??
Because… um, hello!
Focusing on what I’m doing, I pull charm out of my bum. “I was just coming back from my session with Lemuel and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”
The look on The Carver’s face tells me he’s unsettled by many aspects of what I’ve just said. Good. That’s what I was going for.
“Oh…” He peeks out into the hall behind me. “And you just… walk around? No guards or anything…?”
I shrug. “I mean, don’t you?”
He blinks and straightens, opening the door a bit more. “Good point. So, how was your session?”
“Fabulous,” I sigh. “Lemuel is truly a revelation. But I don’t have to tell you that…”
He stares at me for a moment. “No. You don’t.”
My lips twitch. Come on, baby psycho. Get mad…
“I missed having sessions with him greatly after he left,” I go on. “He was always so helpful, you know? I’m sure he’s helped you a great deal as well…”
I witness the mound of his throat dip. “I think we help each other.”
My stomach bunches, and I have to fight the urge to grab him by the throat.
“Of course you do. He does seem rather settled now. And that’s all thanks to you, little Felix.
” I poke him on the nose, and he balks. Peering over his head, I observe his room—it looks like a closet someone turned into a dormitory. “Cute flat.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Oh. Thanks…”
“Does it ever get lonely down here?” I ask. “Just you and Lemuel…?”
“Not really.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We enjoy each other’s company.”
“Hm. I know what you mean.” I continue, rolling with the punches. It’s like improv. I’m quite impressed with myself right now. “I was alone in a nicer cell, but I was growing quite lonely. So I asked to be switched, and now I live with Byron.”
“Kang?” he grunts, and I nod. “I think he still hates me…” He chews on his bottom lip regretfully, and I squint.
He’s not the only one. “I’m sure he’ll come around.” I wave him off. “He’s a sweet lad. Honestly, I’d like it if we could all be friends.”
Darcey’s face lights up. “Really?”
“Yes, darling! We might as well; we’re all going to be stuck in here together forever, right?”
He nods. “I would like that. Maybe you can… put in a good word for me? With Kang?”
Oh, honey… I’ll put in words, don’t you worry.
“Consider it done.” I wink at him.