Our eyes lock.
And he laughs.
The sound bursts out of him. In the blink of an eye, he gets up from the bed.
The guard yanks me toward the door and shoves me out just as Mercer lunges. The door slams shut between us, and the lock clicks.
He appears in the small window almost instantly. Only glass separates us.
He scans me, laughing. His teeth are perfectly white. His eyes are still empty. Each time he slams his fists against the door, my shoulders jerk, and my eyes squeeze shut, blinking hard as if I can erase him that way.
“Oh, doctor,” he shouts, pounding the door again. “Are you scared?”
I straighten my spine. I clear my throat.
“No,” I say.
I lied.
I am terrified.
I turn and walk down the corridor, guards following me on both sides. My legs feel hollow as we move toward reception, everyone speaking at once, trying to piece together what happened.
Detective Mara is already there, waiting.
“He killed a nurse,” she says.
I nod.
“He needs to be diagnosed and locked up for good. He’s dangerous.”
I nod again.
My gaze drops to the desk. I focus on breathing, trying to feel the ground beneath my feet, but my legs tremble anyway.
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah,” I repeat it, pressing my palm to my chest, willing my heartbeat to slow.
I look at her, then around the room.
Everyone is afraid. Terrified ofoneman. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to take me if he ever had the chance.
I am no different.
Yet the thought of him hunting me sends a sharp jolt through my chest. My heart pounds harder, faster. The feeling is like anadrenaline rush I never asked for, like something alive inside me I hate.
My fingers curl into my palm until my nails bite skin.
This is pure fear—survival instinct.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
But fear doesn’t heat my blood like this.
I force my breathing to slow, counting each inhale as if I am calming a patient instead of myself.
In for four.
