“I physically can’t.”
My head’s facing forward, so I can’t see it, but I can tell he’s grinning when he says the next thing out of his ridiculous mouth.
“Unless you call me a good boy.”
Everything in me freezes, but I see how Em’s brows furrow. Her thumb taps against the corner of her tablet.
“There’s an inconsistency in the initial scan,” she says. “I need to restart it.”
Her tone’s even. Anyone else would think nothing of it. But I know what caused the “inconsistency.” Stan saying the words “good boy.”
Fucking hell. My throat gets tight. I pull back my shoulders and try to breathe.
None of that helps when I turn my head and see Stan staring rightat me.
Goosebumps run down my arms. I can feel my heart hammer. Feels loud.
“Em,” I say, whipping my head to face her. She’s still tapping at her tablet. “Can we do this another time?”
Stan goes quiet. That never happens. But I can’t look at him right now.
Em looks up from her tablet. “Are you alright?”
“I just…need the washroom.” It’s only half a lie. I need distancefast. “I’ll be back later.”
“Let me remove the sensors.” Em takes them off and then studies my face during, her expression as flat as her tone. “Did a specific interference come to mind? A memory, perhaps?”
Words nearly spill out. I swallow them back down. “Nothing useful.”
She watches me for a hard heartbeat too long, then nods. “You’re excused.”
I stand too quickly and force myself not to look at Stan as I leave. The door hisses open and closes behind me, sealing me off from the sensors, from the pill, from Stan’s taunting voice stuck in my head.
Even while I walk away, I can hear them behind the door.
Stan’s being loud again. “Tell me again that this pill isn’t shaped like a dick on purpose, doc.”
“It’s a standard capsule,” Em replies.
“Doc… It’shung. I’d know.”
***
I’m almost at sprinting speed, trying to get my pulse to listen, but it’s useless.
My body isn’t listening. My thoughts aren’t stopping. Everythingfeels hot and wrong.
My legs are moving without checking in with me first. By the time I notice what I’m doing, I’m at Quarters Four. The room I share with Stan. It smells like him in here. So warm, so sweet, like marshmallows roasting over fire.
Fuck.
I close the door behind me. The room’s quiet, and that makes it worse. My head’s swimming with Stan’s voice saying “good boy” like it was nothing, but it singed fire into my veins.
The powder room door is sorta open, so I slip inside and shut it behind me.
Then I look up. Bad idea.Terrible idea. The mirror doesn’t do me any favors. It calls me the fuck out. My face is flushed. My jaw’s tight. And below the sink, I’m…hardas hell.
My pants are strained. It looks like I leaked a little too.
