The blonde headed patient raises his head and as he does, we lock eyes.
His sky-blue orbs don’t budge even as Mrs. Regina clears her throat.
My brows furrow in confusion as his attention stays on me. You’d think I ran over his favorite dog with how he was staring me down.
I don’t even have a driver’s license to do that.
His throat clears and he mutters something.
I glance up slightly to look at Carlo, whose jaw is tight. Almost as if he is frustrated.
My gaze returns to the guy in the chair. “What did you say?”
His lip trembles for a moment before he answers, “What’s your last name?”
His voice comes out rough, like he hasn’t used it in days.
My eyes move up to Mrs. Regina who gives me a small nod.
She only ever wants me to make friends with the other patients so I don’t feel so alone.
I at least do her that kindness before questioning as to why I am being moved under a different psychologist.
I exhale a breath, “Armani.”
I wonder if they will let me change my last name now that he is dead.
Will I be that lucky?
Or is this name meant to serve as a reminder of him forever?
A reminder of the evil I am made from.
Who I am made from.
Maybe that is just it. I am evil too.
Not in the same way as him. That would be disgusting.
But since I’m his blood kin, maybe his darkness seeps into me and I was just destined to end up psycho anyway.
Sickening to think about considering he did seep into me quite a few times.
Forcibly.
Deliberately.
I am an adult now though. I can choose to be better.
Itcanend with him.
“You’re real?” the blonde man asks.
I press my lips into a thin line.
Maybe he’s schizophrenic. Better to convince him that I’m real now, before he decides I’m a monster his mind invented and reacts accordingly.
“I’m real.”
