14. Forever For Her （Is Over For Me） #3
I’m not alone for long. Demetri’s barely out of the room before Naya comes sauntering in again in all her bitchy glory.
“What?” She pouts, propping herself up on the steel table, swinging her dangling feet from where she sits. “Already tired of the crazy girl in the psych ward trope?”
“Shut up,” I hiss, teeth still chattering, fingers stiff from the cold.
I walk over to the doctor, taking my rage out on him by kicking him straight in the balls as if he’s the one conducting my best friend’s ghost.
He coughs, blood spurting out of his mouth, spraying his lap. “You need help, Camila. The kind of help only a doctor can give you.”
“Aw.” I laugh. “That’s cute. You think if you’re somehow useful to me, it might save you?” I fight the full body shudders, not bothering to cover my naked body from him.
He can admire me in my full goddess form before I remove the final breath from his corpse. “We both know you weren’t ever going to help me.”
I crush his manhood under my feet, pressing hard with my toes on the fabric of his pants. “Why?” I demand answers.
Blood sprays from his mouth, but he doesn’t answer.
“Tell me!” I scream into his face, my spit flying, my heel crushing his testicles so fast and hard, I feel a pop beneath me.
“I-it’s just business.” There’s snot and blood dripping from his nose and a puddle of another uncertain liquid pooling around him in the chair. “You weren’t remarkable, just unlucky enough to come in the way you did.”
“Hmm…” I think about his words for a brief moment. “That’s where you’re wrong. I am remarkable. I’m fucking remarkable as shit.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No, you aren’t. I’ve seen dozens of girls just like you this month.”
“Oh, yeah?” I lean down, bringing my face closer to his. “Did any of them try to kill you?”
His one good eye goes wide, and before he can say anything else, I pull the knife from the other.
The eyeball comes halfway out, along with his scream, and in the same second, Demetri is rushing into the room like an attack dog primed for killing.
He holds light blue scrubs in his hands and extends them toward me.
“Did he behave?” Demetri asks.
I scoff. “He said I’m unremarkable.”
My beloved shakes his head. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.” I lift my arms up, allowing Demetri to dress me as if I was his doll.
It feels good to be cared for, to be adored in a way that feels so intimate and personal, a way only he knows and understands. Demetri allows me to stay soft while still sharpening my edges for combat.
“Just gonna pretend like you’re fine then, hmm?” Naya cackles from behind the doctor, pulling her phone out for another selfie. She makes bunny ears with her fingers and props them behind his head.
“Go away,” I grunt.
“What?” Demetri asks, unaware it isn’t him the words are for.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
He furrows his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes at me as if he can see I’m keeping so much from him.
Better not let him know how large the hole is on this sinking ship.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Naya sings. “It’s everything. And it isn’t going to stop until you realize the truth.”
“Shut up!” I plug my ears, but her voice is louder.
She moves from behind the doctor, finger in my face like she knows everything.
“You aren’t crazy. That’s your problem. You’ve been fighting like a dumb bitch to regain your sanity, but the reality is, nothing is wrong with you.
I’m haunting you because you’re an evil fucking murderous bitch with no conscience! ”
It’s as if suddenly I’m awake again, present in my body, reclaiming my corpse like a long drink of water after a drought. I swallow my shame down, uncaring that the stupid doctor and Demetri are both witnessing my decline from sanity.
“No, you’re wrong. You aren’t Naya. I might not be losing my mind, but you also aren’t my best friend.”
She laughs, putting on a smile as if she too knows the truth. “I’m not?”
“No, you’re something worse. You’re the parts of me I refuse to face. My guilt, my failures, my unforgivable mistakes. And that’s alright, because sometimes, we just gotta repress that shit and shove it back into a box until we’re ready to deal with it.”
Naya tilts her head sideways. “And you’re ready to deal with me?”
I suck in a breath that stutters all the way down into my lungs. “If dealing means accepting that I’m this darkness, that I’m just another vile thing who no longer cares who lives or dies as long as, in the end, it’s me and him? Then yes. I am.”
She whistles a single note, like a long sigh after a hard day. “Grief is a bitch.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well, so were you.”
Pushing her out of the way, I walk toward Harkins. He doesn’t mention my little episode, doesn’t ask what it means. He just gives me that look that asks if he’s needed, if his support or strength can be lent.
I press my head into his side and let him hold me for a few moments that begin to feel awkward once the doctor’s pained sounds cut into the silence.
Demetri nudges me. “Do you want to…fuck him while he’s dying like you usually do?”
Doctor Valerian’s protests become unbearably annoying, so I pull the disposable bed lining from its box and shove a wad of it into his mouth.
I sigh. “I don’t think so.”
Demetri’s shoulders sag from my response. “You’ll feel more like yourself again once we’re out of this place and you’re doing all the things you love again.”
I nod in agreement, turning my attention back to the scared doctor.
My nose twitches on its own. “Fucking his corpse is too easy,” I say. “I want him to pay in misery.”
Demetri raises his eyebrows high onto his forehead, his lip curling on one side. “What do you have in mind?”
I bring a finger to my lip, humming loudly before it comes to me, “Scalp him, Doctor!”
Demetri’s chuckle is a dark sound, and with Valerian’s own tool, he begins to slice. God, it’s hot, the way he handles the scalpel with those giant fucking manly hands of his. I drown out the sound of the doctor’s screaming with a vision of my beloved’s hand squeezing my breast.
“Wait.” I blink back into the moment. “If he passes out from shock, it won’t be as fun.”
I pull the stuffing from his mouth, bending at the waist and holding my hands behind my back to address the psychiatrist. “If you have anesthesia, this would be a pretty good time to holler about it.”
He’s a blubbering stuttering mess, his pants already half pissed through, and there’s some other weird liquid leaking from his dick-area.
I yank the wad out of his mouth to let him speak.
“T-the cabinet.” A snot bubble forms at the tip of his nose and immediately gets sucked back in on the next breath. “White label. Lidocaine.”
“Maybe I can just distract you from the pain with other pain. I heard that helps sometimes.” I grab the nearest steel tray, dumping the tools out on the table and lifting it over my head. “Say cheese,” I warn him.
Dr. Valerian’s face reads of confusion as I make a camera clicking sound and bring the tray down, slamming it down between his legs.
The psychiatrist moans a pitiful sound, something like a mixture between crying and a low howl, but it doesn’t stop me or conjure any sort of pity.
I raise my arm again, making another shutter sound before I slam the tray over his junk.
His yelling penetrates my skull, forcing me to wince through the pain.
“You okay?” Demetri’s hand steadies me from one side as I lean against the table.
I shake my head gently. “My head is killing me.”
Demetri takes the tray from my hand, placing it on the table and rubbing his fingers gently against my temple. I whimper, a mixture of pain and relief surging through me all at once. I lean into his body, feeling comfort in his scent alone.
I try not to cry. There have been enough tears, and it only hurts my head further. Demetri is right—I’ll feel more like myself again once we’re out of this hellhole.
“Tell me what I can do to make it better, and I’ll do it,” he says, brushing my hair out of my face and tucking the strays behind my ear.
“Just being with you again helps,” I tell him.
Our patient is still hollering on about his crushed up dick. Demetri puts him in a chokehold, his one eye bulging from the socket while the other bleeds profusely, and then he’s out, head limp and unconscious.
“What gives?” I ask, still rubbing my head.
“He was making too much noise. It’ll be easier to do this if he’s out cold.” He shrugs, picking up the scalpel again and taking it to the doctor’s forehead.
I watch Demetri work again, admiring the blood oozing freely and dripping down our victim’s face.
It’s only a few minutes of peace before he comes to, head still trapped in the strap of the old chair, but he’s forgotten.
Valerian moans and groans and screams, yanking at his arms and legs but making no progress with his body fully tied down.
“Ah.” Demetri lets a pleased acknowledgement pass through his lips. “You’re awake just in time for the best part.” He takes the wet stuffing from the doctor’s mouth to free his speech.
“P-please, s-stop. I-I’ll pay you anything.”
“We’ve already been down this road, Mister Valerian,” Demetri taunts him. “It’s time for your treatment now.” My beloved’s eyes reach mine, an unspoken understanding between us that doesn’t require effort. “Nurse, the forceps?” he calls to me.
I chuckle under my breath, walking back toward the cabinet and rummaging through a few tools, clinking and clanking them loudly until I get too overstimulated to keep the act up. “What the fuck are forceps?” I ask him.
Demetri laughs, slapping the back of the doctor’s head for good measure before walking toward me. It bleeds harder, as if the slap depressurized his skull or something.
“It’s like a big pair of tweezers,” Demetri explains, kneeling in front of me, sorting through the tools that have fallen on the ground. His hands stop moving, his left arm wrapping around my waist and bringing me closer to him.