Page 19 of Bound By Thorns
Now all I had to do was get the fuck up, and walk out of this infirmary without alerting anyone. Suddenly, the doorknob clicked, and I feigned unconsciousness.
“I still need to check on him,” Kaylan’s voice cut through the silence, tinged with annoyance.
“Boss needs you ready and naked in your room in fifteen minutes,” Tyka’s voice slithered through the air, dripping with contempt. Though I couldn’t see him, I pictured his sneer all too well.
Your room.
So, she doesn’t sleep with him in the same room?
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she responded, her voice quivering with a feigned bravado. A heavy silence hung in the air. My hands clenched under the sheets.
“You know, Kaylan, once you’re useless to him, I’m taking my turn with you,” Tyka murmured, his voice a menacing whisper. I wanted to burst open my eyes and confront the disgust in Tyka’s words, yet I remained motionless, protecting my ruse. The room fell silent again until I heard the sound of something metallic hitting the floor.
“Keep that filthy mouth away from me,” Kaylan’s voice broke, sharp with fear and I swore I almost moved.
“You fucking whore!” Tyka bellowed, followed by something else hitting the floor. “I see how you look at him. I know all about your little strip show when he was hypothermic. Don’t think I won’t tell the boss.”
“He’s a patient to me,” she shrieked. “And an asset to Garret. Now,leave!”
The door shut after a few tense moments, and Kaylan’s shaky breaths were the only sound left.
Slowly, I felt her approach my bed. Then, her touch, soft on my cheek, fingers trailing through my hair. I lay perfectly still. I didn’t dare move.
“Logan?” she breathed out, her voice cracking, “Please open your eyes.”
This woman, shredding my every rational thought, was utterly confusing. She unraveled me completely. She had no idea what she did to me. And I intended to keep it that way.
I stayed there, my eyes closed, breathing steady until she checked my vitals, poked around my IV, possibly giving me some medication, and then sound of her departing footsteps faded away.
I waited for a few minutes until there was nothing but silence both inside and outside the infirmary. Then I slowly opened my eyes, got up, and hunted for something I could use as a weapon.
Heading to one of the lower cabinets, I saw a treasure trove of surgical goodies.
There has to be a scalpel in here.
Below the rusted forceps and clamps, I saw some scissors and a scalpel.
Bingo!
I tucked the scissors into the waistband of my boxers, the metal cold against my skin, and gripped the scalpel tightly in my hand. Turning the knob of the infirmary door as slowly as possible, I winced at the faint creak it made. Peering into the hallway, I spotted only an old woman carrying a tray of food to one of the rooms beyond.
Her steps were unhurried, her focus on balancing the tray, giving me the perfect window to slip past. Moving low and soundless, I crept out of the infirmary and headed up the stairs, every step a cautious gamble against the creaking wood.
The mansion above was a bizarre contradiction. Dirty carpets lined the hallways, their faded patterns hidden beneath layers of grime. The air smelled of mildew and something faintly metallic. I moved through the kitchen, where mismatched cabinets hung crookedly, some doors missing entirely. Dust clung to the surfaces, and a dull hum from an old refrigerator filled the silence.
Beyond the kitchen, the house seemed to shift. A grand space opened up, dominated by an oversized staircase. The wood gleamed under the flickering light of a dusty chandelier, as though someone had polished it recently. The chandelier hung low, its crystals dulled, with several bulbs burned out, casting uneven shadows across the room.
I paused, my eyes sweeping the space, cataloging every detail. The staircase curved upward in a horseshoe pattern, splitting into two directions. To the left, a hallway with cracked, faded portraits stretched into shadow. To the right, a pair of heavy double doors with ornate brass handles stood imposingly, untouched by the neglect that plagued the rest of the mansion. Locked, I guessed, noting their pristine condition.
Tall French doors stood at the far end of the room. Their glass panes were cracked, but iron bars reinforced them, making them useless as an escape. Cameras were nestled in the corners of the ceiling, though one hung at an awkward angle, likely out of commission.
I moved on, slipping through a narrow door under the staircase. It led to a cramped passage lined with cleaning supplies and discarded furniture. A small, dusty window provided a faint glimpse of the outside, but the rusted bars confirmed there was no escape that way either.
Continuing my silent exploration, I found another door near the kitchen. It led to the backyard. The smell of damp earth hit me as I stepped outside, the night air heavy and cool.
The backyard was vast, a forgotten relic of what might have once been a grand estate. Overgrown grass stretched toward an unkempt garden, where weeds choked what little life remained. Beyond the garden was a massive forest, its dense shadows beckoning me with the promise of freedom.
I hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, my bare feet crunching against the dry grass.
