Guess Iamthat fucked up.
Knox leans against the wall dressed in his usual attire: a flannel, jeans, and work boots, twirling a pair of pliers in his hand.
Pinch me. That’s sexy as hell.
Next to Knox is a worktable covered in various tools and objects.
And just as promised, there’s a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room, but he looks nothing like the last man I saw here. He’s clean, unblemished, and wearing scrubs. Another step closer and I’m able to read his nametag.
Leonard.
My entire body freezes, halting Griffin’s steps. I try not to let my fear show, but a cold sweat dampens my skin, making my hands slippery.
I can’t believe he’s here…
“I want a turn with her,” Leonard whines in the corner of Dr. Whitlock’s office. He started sitting in on my “sessions” a couple of weeks ago.
I’m strapped to the chair again, liquid leaking between my thighs. I still can’t move and probably won’t be able to for another half hour or so.
Dr. Whitlock zips up his pants as he smooths his hair. “You’re not ready yet.”
Leonard stands his ground. “I know what to do and how to do it. You told me. I can do it.”
“Alienism is an art. It’s not something you can just rush into.” Whitlock shakes his head.
“I know. You said that before. But there’s only so much I can learn through observation. Just let me try.” Leonard’s attempt at reason doesn’t sway Dr. Whitlock whatsoever.
Instead, Dr. Whitlock whirls on Leonard, slapping him across the face. “I said, no! Not my Blackbird!”
Leonard’s head whips to the side as his cheek turns a painful shade of red. He glares at Dr. Whitlock, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Good. This is already a nightmare. I don’t want anyone else taking advantage of me.
“Take her back to her room.” Dr. Whitlock motions to me.
Being the obedient little prick he is, Leonard removes my restraints and moves me into a wheelchair. As he pushes me down the halls to my room, we pass several others. Orderlies, patients, and visiting family members. Not a single person asks if I’m okay.
And they never will. Who would intervene on behalf of a crazy person?
Leonard wheels me into my room and aggressively drops me onto my bed.
“I don’t know what makes you so special. You’re nothing but an experiment. One in a long line of experiments to keep him occupied.” He sneers down at me.
I want to scream at him. Tell him that I’m no one’s experiment. I’m not some plaything. But I still don’t have control of my body, so I just lie there.
His hand lashes out, slapping my cheek. The sting causes instant tears in my eyes. They slip down my cheeks and directly onto my pillow.
Leonard moves my head so I’m looking up at him again. “I will have my turn soon enough.”
The Leonard before me and the one I remember are similar, but this one has the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, and his hair is slicked to the side rather than the spikey mess he used to wear it as. He looks smaller sitting and tied down. He used to tower over me, but now it’s me who has the upper hand.
Leonard’s eyes glitter when he finally recognizes me. “It’s been a long time, Raven.”
“Not long enough.” A surge of energy rushes through me, and I give in to my impulses.
Releasing Griffin’s hand, I stomp to Leonard and kick him right in the sternum. The chair tips backward as Leonard wheezes.
Standing over Leonard, I hold my hand out to Knox, who knows exactly what my gesture means. Knox deftly places the pliers in my hand.
