So why do I wish Dr. Ambrose was the one visiting me right now?
The assistant leaves the exam room. The door locks with a loud clang.
Benji glosses over me, taking in my restraints, my bare body, my face. I must be covered in sweat and grime, and my hair is probably a tangled mess.
I smile. He looks away.
My heart drops. “What’s wrong?”
“He wants to begin the testing phase,” Benji says quietly.
He holds my hand, but his eyes stay down like he’s avoiding me. Is he hiding something from me?
“How are you?” he asks. “The doctor said you were having issues with listening to instructions?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s how he put it, huh?”
“I told you, Violet,” he whines. “This place is messed up. You have to listen. It’s the only way to survive. You can’t?—”
I huff. “We have our plan.”
Benji drops my hand and shrinks. He shoves his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I used to think the habit was cute, but now, it annoys me. We’ve been working toward this for years. Doesn’t he know I need this? If I don’t have him on my side, then I don’t know what I’ll do. I need to know Benji will be there waiting for me once I kill Dr. Ambrose.
“What if the plan doesn’t work?” he whispers.
“It has to.”
We both glance toward the mirrored wall. He saw it during one of his consultations and told me about it…which means he very likely watched me and Dr. Ambrose together. And that means he saw me cum harder with Dr. Ambrose than I ever did with him.
My stomach churns. “Could you hear us during the exam?”
Benji shakes his head. “I never saw or heard anything during our consultations. Who knows, though? We should be careful. He might have microphones somewhere. We should at least hide our faces in case he can read our lips.
“All right,” I whisper. I turn my back to the mirror. “I’ll be good from now on. I’ll do whatever ‘the doctor’ says.”
“Or we can leave now, Violet. I know you. You have a defiant streak. It’s part of why I love you. You’re the opposite of me, but it’s going to get you in trouble here.”
He bows his head. Frustration carves an empty space in my rib cage. We’re this far, and he wants to stop me?
Tears brim his eyes. “We don’t have to do this,” he begs. “Your mother didn’t deserve to die, but you don’t deserve this either. Please, Violet.”
As badly as I want to slap some sense into him, he’s right. I don’t deserve to be treated like this. No one does.
But if I give up now, will other people judge me for being compliant? Letting injustice continue without repercussions? And even more importantly, will I be able to live with myself? Will I be able to move on? Will I have control over my thoughts again?
An icy chill rattles my spine. There’s that thought again. Why do I keep thinking about my mind being controlled by other forces?
Maybe Dr. Ambrose has been shaping my life more than I first realized. Through my mother. Through my obsessions. Through my desires.
I clench my jaw. My only desire is to fucking end this.
Benji reaches for my hand again. “Don’t let Dr. Ambrose do this to you.”
I bite my tongue. I don’t want to admit it to Benji—it’s hard enough to admit it to myself—but there’s something about Dr. Ambrose I need to figure out. Maybe it’s that he’s my mother’s murderer, or the fact that he might be my father. I may never figure out what the reason is, but I can’t leave. Not until this is over.
In the grimy mirror, deep veins strain in my neck, my pulse visibly throbbing in my temples. Does Dr. Ambrose’s blood run through me? Can he see every tension building inside me?
Tell me you don’t belong here, he said with his thin, grueling lips, as if he always knew I was meant to be here with him, as if his disgust and hunger had always been waiting for me.
