It doesn't stop me from being scared to go to sleep, though. Being woken up with a zap is no fun. At least I haven't been punished badly… Not like some of the others have been. Especially William. At least, I think his name is William. He's young, maybe fourteen. I don't know him. I think he's new. I don't know what he did, either, but they strapped him down on the wooden board. The Board is one of the worst corrections in this place.
When one of the Blanks saw my horrified expression as I passed the door, I was told that he's being corrected for not listening and doing what he's told.
They shocked him at least four times before the Stinger stopped working and they had to charge it.
He was begging for them to stop, asking for his mum.
One of the Blanks laughed at him and told him he’d never see her again.
I made myself listen and watch everything, and the Blanks let me, I guess as a deterrent. It sickened me to the core.
I realized with a certainty in that moment that it doesn’t matter if Stoke actually thinks he’s helping us. If I can get out of this place, I need to do everything in my power to getThe Heath shut down. How could any of this be good…for anyone? How could pain and cruelty cure anyone of anything?
After they were finished with William, they put him in his room. He was practically catatonic. The next day, I saw him and his eyes were dull, and it wasn't just from the drugs. They're systematically breaking him.
I started to recall the similarities of the treatment I was given when John first brought me here. The rules, the corrections. They did much the same to me, chalking it up to helping my development. To curing me. To helping me.
They torture in the name of medicine, of Stoke's ego, perhaps.
And now I see them for what they are. They never cured me, just made me act the way they wanted me to. They broke me and molded me into the shape of anormalgirl, but the conditioning was only skin-deep.
And I need to make sure they can’t do this to us anymore.
However I can.
Shade
I'm trying not to pace, but I can't help it. It's been over a week since Daisy disappeared off the dance floor in Sauvage's club, and we haven't had any leads. We don’t know where she is, or who took her. No one has contacted us, not even the stalker. Sauvage has heard nothing from his many contacts either. We’re doing everything we can think of to try to find her, but it’s like she dropped off the face of the earth and it’s makingus crazy.
'Where the fuck is she?' Blake snarls low under his breath for probably the millionth time.
I glance at him worriedly. He’s sounded increasingly unhinged over the past week. I feel the same, but at least I'm trying to hide it. Though, to be honest, I think I'm wearing a hole in the carpet in Blake’s room in the KIP house from all of the pacing I'm doing. We’ve barely slept. I don’t remember the last time we ate.
Our Frat brothers know there’s something wrong, but we’ve kept Daisy’s disappearance a secret so no one connects her with Joe’s death. Her name hasn’t even been mentioned as far as we know because, for all intents and purposes, she ‘disappeared’ weeks ago when she escaped Joe and that bitch of a nurse.
Detective Anders appeared at the KIP house with two uniformed officers yesterday, asking me questions about Joe, her bright and suspicious eyes watching me very closely. She didn’t stay long, though. Mav, Blake, and I already worked out our story with Sauvage.
The lies came easier than I thought they would and Sauvage has pulled a witness out of nowhere who will say he saw me and the guys at a bar in Richmond the night that Joe died if I need an alibi. The French fuck and his relationship with Daisy is annoying, but even I can admit he’s a strong ally to have in our corner.
I get a message on my phone and let out a long breath.
Speak of the devil.
The detective. She has backed off for now. A lead with a business associate.
Well, that’s good at least. We can’t search for Daisy properly when we do get some information if Anders is dogging our steps.
As usual, the gangster’s communication is controlled and calm, but even I saw his facade crack in the moments following Daisy’s disappearance. When she vanished in his club, he was barking orders over all the channels his people were on, but despite the power he has, even he hasn't learned anything useful since that night.
Mav sits on Daisy's bed, listless and subdued. He hasn't even worked out in days, just sits around looking at pictures of Daisy on his phone. We’re just waiting for news of her. It’s like we’re in limbo, or purgatory.
I stare out the window. It's starting to snow, and I find myself wondering if Daisy would like it. I turn away with a huff, my chest hurting.
'There's information somewhere,' I mutter. 'We just need to find it.'
'Fuck this,' Blake growls, jumping up and heading for the door.
'Where are you going?' I ask, trying to project calm becausethis versionof Blake isn’t good for anyone.
