1. - – Mackenzie
CHAPTER ONE
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MACKENZIE
Many people think depression is something that can easily be shaken off, that it’s all dramatics someone like me—a broken girl from a fragmented family—does for attention.
Like, yeah, taking a bunch of pills that the doctors had to pump my stomach to get out was so much fun. Or slicing my wrists, being rushed to hospital, and being stitched up was like a trip to the fucking amusement park.
Trying repeatedly to silence the pain in my soul, but never fully able to succeed.
Yep, lots of fun.
Then the silence became so loud that I ended up being locked away with a straitjacket as my new best friend.
“Mac? Are you listening to me?” Dr. Miller growls, pulling me from my ever-darkening thoughts.
My green eyes flick up slowly to him, and I give him a brief nod, but say nothing, as normal.
When he continues speaking, his voice is stern and like a silk caress over my senses.
“You have only a few weeks left until you walk out of those doors. Mac, try not to mess it up.”
Dr. Killian Miller was assigned to me on my first day here. After a week, I was having daily sessions with him. After two weeks, he was sneaking into my cell and making me come before he went home for the day.
I never asked him to visit me; he just appeared, but I didn’t say no. Nor would I ever say no after discovering how good he is with his tongue and knows all the right places to touch me.
If anyone here found out, though, he would lose his job, so I keep my mouth shut. What we get up to actually helps to pass the time. Plus, he is older than me, and for a man his age—early fifties, I am guessing—he is hot.
His eyes are light gray, his skin tanned as if he has been lying on a beach for a few weeks. Not that I know where he is from, we don’t really talk that much about his private life. Between his asking me how I feel, and the orgasms, we don’t seem to have time to build anything else.
It’s just sex.
Perhaps his darker skin is because he is of mixed descent. He has a mop of jet-black curls on his head, full, plump lips, and a dusting of facial hair on his cheeks and chin as if he decided not to shave this morning.
His entire face is like an angel who has fallen from heaven because he defied God, and now, the Devil is his best friend. He looks like he could do the worst crime known to man and get away with it because of his boyish smile and his warm, hypnotizing eyes.
I sink further into the soft leather of my chair, my white hospital gown sliding further up my legs, exposing my milky thighs. The material of the chair is worn down so much that the little raised cracks slice into my flesh.
It makes me smile to myself. I don’t know what it is about pain, but I fucking love it.
One question I get asked a lot is why I enjoy cutting myself. Something inside me knows that the pain hurts a lot less than what I am feeling inside. That slices into my skin will somehow make everything go away.
It never does, though.
Another part of the cutting was punishment. Atonement for not being enough in anyone’s eyes.
I let my gaze flick to the clock ticking away on the wall. The tick I shouldn’t be able to hear echoes in my ears. Tick, tick, tick, tick.
A constant reminder that I have at least another half an hour before I will be taken back to my cell to stare at the plain white walls.
The director said I could decorate. What with?
I asked him. I literally have nothing. No cute family pictures like the others, no gifts or memories that I want to be reminded of.
My family doesn’t give a shit about me, never has and never will.
My dad passed away when I was a baby, and my mother is probably lying on some dirty floor somewhere with a needle hanging out of her arm while some pimp empties his cum into her cunt.
“Mac? You’re not listening to me again,” Dr. Miller scolds with his gruff voice, making me blink and look him dead in the eyes.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Killian’s eyes widen for a moment before they dart to the corner of his office, panic twisting his features as his complexion fades slightly. He looks down at me and shakes his head to the side just a little, making me smirk. “Forget to turn them off?”
He growls so low that I feel it radiate along my skin like the wings of a honeybee. I know if I push him some more, he will sting me. I've already been in this stupid room talking about how I feel and I'm bored. My pussy is aching, making me desperate to have him fuck me.
I lift my toes and pull my ass further down the chair; the movement makes my legs open, giving him a full view of my pussy. I didn't put any panties on when I left my cell, they only get in the way and he always ends up ripping them.
My eyes lower to his throat, tracking his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down under his skin.
He wants me.
“Mac, I see you have not taken your meds today. Your behavior will be punishable if you don’t stop.” He barks his words at me as if he doesn’t know me. Like him fucking me on his desk isn’t something we do every single day.
My eyes narrow at him as rejection coils tight in my heart, stabbing it like barbed wire on top of a fence, and cutting me when I try to grab hold of it.
After the dismissal comes rage. My hands fist, my nails dig hard into the flesh of my hand.
The sting reminds me to breathe, stopping me from going down that rabbit hole.
The place where torment prevails.
Killian jerks his head again, and his lips purse. My brows draw together as I slowly turn my head to the left, spying the extra camera and a microphone. Those fucks are filming him. I say this even though I’m not surprised. He is fucking me. I wonder what else he is doing that he shouldn’t be.
I throw my head back, my mouth opens, and a manic laugh fills the air before I lift my hand and flip the camera off. “You guys want to fuck me too?”
Killian clears his throat, making my head snap back to him. The laughter dies, and the grin I had on my face drops to my feet when I see what is in his hand. A small glass vial and a longass fucking needle.
“Mac, you don’t have to react like this. If you take your meds like you are meant to, we wouldn’t need to do this.”
He stands slowly, and as he does, his office door swings open and two nurses dressed in bright teal hospital uniforms march in. Both of them lock eyes with me, annoyance dripping from their glares.
“Killian? What are you doing?” I stand up fast, knocking the chair back a little. I hold my hands out in front of me, hoping that will make them leave me alone.
“You have so little time left with us; you need to keep up with the program, and then you can go home.” Killian’s soft, caring voice makes me want to punch him in the face.
This is not the voice he uses when he tells me to swallow his cum.
It’s not the deep tones that growl low in my ear as he empties himself into me.
“She has an obsession with me, gentlemen. I wanted to stop treating her. I hope now the board will understand my request.”
Killian’s talking, but the words he is saying don’t match his nightly actions. They don’t fit with the man who says my pussy fits his cock like a glove.
“He fucked me yesterday! Test me,” I scream.
My hands shake, and the muscles in my neck are so tight that a small part of me wants them to break. My eyes are frantic as they dart between the nurses, who are slowly making their way closer to me. They are trying to make out that I am the fucking crazy one.
I open my mouth to speak, but a sharp prick in my neck makes me freeze in place. I turn my head upwards and see Killian looking down at me just before I collapse heavily against him.
“Why?” I murmur. Tears spring to my eyes and roll down my cheeks.
Killian grins at me as he turns slightly so both our backs are to the camera hiding in the corner of the room. His tongue flicks out, and leaves a trail of warm spit on my cheek to my ear before he whispers, “Because I can.”
My mouth drops open to speak, but the words get lodged in my throat like a wad of cotton wool. A wave of nausea hits me, turning my stomach, and making me feel like I’m about to fall off a storm-torn ship into the dark depths of the sea.
My eyelids get heavy, and just before they shut, I catch Killian grinning at me, his steely gray eyes haunting me with a promise of something I’ve not seen before.
Possession.