As the men unload supplies from the back, I mentally record the distance from the service side entrance to the truck doors and the scant seconds when the guys unloading the boxes are out of sight. Sneaking on board one of those trucks is the only way I’m getting out of here, but it’s risky in the extreme.
It’s too bright at this time of day to risk trying it on a Tuesday or Thursday, so I settle on Friday night.
I can’t spend another week in this Godforsaken place. I’ll be as cuckoo as everyone else if I do.
As the key turns in the lock, I whirl around, plastering a pleasant smile on my face as I move right beside my bedpost.
“Good morning, Miss Manning,” Wyatt says, entering my room and casting a lingering glance my way.
“Good morning, Wyatt.” I flutter my eyelashes and smile coyly at him. “And please call me Abby. How many times do I have to say it?” I look up at him through hooded eyes, smiling dreamily at him, as I drag my lower lip through my teeth and stare at his mouth.
His eyes glaze over as he walks toward me, his expression betraying everything he’s feeling. “I don’t want to slip up,” he admits, tentatively tucking my long dark hair behind my ear. “The bosses can’t know we’re…friends.” He falters on the word, and I know it’s because he’s hoping we’ll be more.
Men are so fucking pathetic.
It’s ironic that bastard thinks women are weak because we’re ruled by our emotions, when men are definitely the weaker of the two sexes, because they’re completely ruled by their dicks.
It’s barely taken me any length of time to get Wyatt to fall in lust with me.
If there’s anything I can be grateful to that bastard for, it’s my ability to entrap men. I know how to work a room like a pro, smiling, flirting, making seemingly subtle touches, and laughing at feeble jokes and even more feeble men. But it was required whenever I attended official functions, and it’s a life skill that has served me well.
Wyatt hands me a plastic cup and my daily pill. “You look especially beautiful today.”
Barf.
“You say that every day.” I grin as I dutifully open my mouth, pop the pill inside, and swallow some water.
The first time he handed it to me, I asked what it was, but he couldn’t, orwouldn’t, say. I guessed it was a sedative, and now that I’ve witnessed the zombie-like status of most of the residents firsthand, I know I was right.
Flinging my arms around his neck, I say, “And it’s the sweetest thing!” I want to gag, but he laps up the cheesy shit like you wouldn’t believe. I giggle, and he drops his head on my shoulder as I maneuver the pill out of my mouth with my tongue. Pretending to brush my hair back, I slide the pill from my mouth and stash it in the loose top of the bedpost, along with all the others I’ve hidden.
“It’s the truth.” A frown puckers his pale brow as he eases back, and I drop my arms to my sides. “Although I shouldn’t be saying stuff like this.”
I force my lower lip to wobble. “Don’t say that. You like me and I like you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Double barf.
“That’s not the way my boss would see it.”
“Your boss won’t know.” I take a step toward him, making a production out of kissing his cheek. “I won’t tell.”
Conflict flashes in his eyes.
Don’t lose your balls now, Wyatt.
He’s pivotal to my escape plan, and I don’t have the time, or the opportunity, to seduce any other male nurse. I smile sweetly at him, batting my eyelashes again, and the conflict melts off his face.
Sucker.
“C’mon.” He takes my elbow. “You can’t be late to breakfast.”
I memorize the hallways as I walk silently by Wyatt’s side, as I’ve done every morning we take this journey. It’s unfortunate they have cameras in the hallway, but it’s not surprising given the facility. I’m hoping the staff stairwells are camera-free, because if Wyatt fails to implement that part of the plan, I’ll have to take an even bigger risk. I guess I’ll find out Friday night.
The heavy doors to the high-level psych ward swing open as we pass by, and a man dressed in a nurse’s uniform comes dashing out with a woman huddled into his side. Blood gushes from a deep cut in her cheek, and strands of her hair are plastered to her sweaty brow. The sleeve of her shirt is ripped at the shoulder, exposing a pale, slim arm. Her name badge confirms she’s a doctor. “What happened?” Wyatt asks, gripping my arm to halt me.
I keep my eyes trained on the ground, holding my body rigidly still, so they don’t suspect I’m lucid. I don’t know what’s in that pill I’m given each morning, but it’s strong enough to have most of the residents walking around like wide-eyed zombies. They can’t know I’m not taking mine, so I work hard to copy the other residents’ behaviors so they don’t suspect. Having sharp observational skills has come in handy around here.
“That bitch in C9 again.” Tense silence erupts, and I’d give anything to read their facial expressions, but I keep my head down. “This wasn’t a good idea.”
