The nurse’s smile is fake as she waves me goodbye, allowing me to leave the room. It is fake; fake smiles only mean false, evil, terrible motives.
As I exit the nurse’s office, I notice a tall, muscular man standing outside wearing the kind of uniform only a guard would wear. Handcuffs are strapped to the belt around his waist, making him look intimidating. His hair is curly and brown, the perfect length above his ears, and when his eyes meet mine, a smile stretches his lips.
Now that’s a real smile.
“You finally awake, huh?” Ray says, dropping his demeanor and being cool with me for once.
“Mhm,” I reply, but I can’t think of anything more to say.
Thoughts are still flying around in my head, the biggest being the dead body. It’s a relief to think of something other than the terrible thing that happened last week and instead, focus on the present and not be overwhelmed by the echoes of my childhood. A calm and serene silence falls over us as we walk through the empty corridor on our way to wing three. All the other patients are either in the activity room or outside.
When walking through the hallways of the institute, one can’t help but see the bare walls, a reminder of chronic underfunding. Every time I’ve passed by, I’ve smelled the faint odor of aging paint and noticed the walls, with a thin layer of light paint unable to hide the streaks of aged paint beneath. Mr. Ricci hasn’t invested much in the institute, leaving it with stained carpets, broken fixtures, and an overall atmosphere of neglect that makes it uncomfortable for his patients. The prints on the walls are so dull and lifeless that they blend into the dark, windowless corridor. Everything is impersonal and sterile, with that disgusting antiseptic smell.
Here, the atmosphere is so different from the outside, when the sun was still out and before the corpse tainted my vision. The thought of Grey and me having done something so unsavory while a dead body lay only feet away causes a wave of nausea to wash over me, making me swear never to get myself into that situation again.
I need to talk to someone about the body we found; they need to call the police and report the crime that happened, but still, I don’t know who to contact. The killer can be anyone, be anywhere. How can I know who to trust?
I knew something was off with this place from the beginning. It’s a feeling I still have, one that I find impossible to describe to outsiders because no one would believe me, a person who apparently ended up here as a result of mental health issues. Don’t get me wrong, I am fucked in my head with all my dark thoughts. I know that. But I do not belong in an institute. The story they shared about my arrival doesn’t sound true; I can sense something is off. From a very early age, I’ve known to trust my intuition, which is the same in this case. I need to tell someone, and maybe this someone is Ray. Guards protect us; he will help me.
Every interaction with the staff feels scripted and sterile like they’re all simply here out of duty and obligation. Ray isn’t the type that behaves like that, and I decide it is him who I have to tell.
As we walk into wing three, he drags his feet, making the cuffs around his waist clank and jingle. We turn around and come to the reception, where the elderly woman I saw earlier sits behind the desk. She looks uninterested, her eyelids drooping as the young man on the other side of the bulletproof glass tries to get her attention. He becomes increasingly frustrated as he shouts and pounds against the window, yet she remains oblivious. She doesn’t care about him; her indifference is evident as she absentmindedly picks her nails.
I’m astonished by the many people sitting and unwinding in the waiting room, an unexpected view. Ray pauses for a second to announce something to the guard at his post here, and my gaze falls to the cafeteria doors.
When I see the four people I’ve seen several times, my heart pounds, and my palms are clammy. As soon ashecomes through the door, our eyes meet, and time seems to have frozen while everything else has faded, and yet it feels like the sun is radiating more beauty than ever before. A powerful yearning awakens within me, and I feel a profound craving that is both comforting and alarming. It’s a feeling that makes me freak out.
Ray is still deep in conversation with the other guard, and I’m tempted to make a beeline for wing three and my room, but I’m certain he wouldn’t be pleased with that. I’m frozen in place, unable to move, and suddenly self-conscious of my appearance, not wanting Grey to view me in this state. After not showering for a week, I must look like a pile of shit in his eyes. Is that why he’s looking at me like that?
His head tilts to one side, and he slowly curls his lips into a frown, the motion of his jaw tensing. I take a deep breath as his chest collapses like he’s letting out a long sigh. The intensity of his gaze still feels like a warm embrace, even though his fists are clenched as if preparing to fight.
It’s like my body screams at him.Glare at me, touch me, and pour all your rage toward me.
It’s official; I am incredibly depraved of all morally right things.
His black T-shirt tightly hugs his chest as his arms rest at his sides, and I can make out the intricate lines of each tattoo I traced many weeks ago. My heart flutters with excitement at the thought of doing it all over again, but my mind is a cacophony of warnings.
He stands there with an intense gaze, his eyes burning into me with so much emotion I can feel it all around me. His demons travel to mine in the same way they did in the bathroom. They fight mine, embrace mine, travel through the air to meet mine, and I am forced to take a step back from the intensity of him. I’m watching a man trapped in the urge for control, holding himself perfectly still, clutching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white. As my breathing stutters, I feel the emotions burning within his body. It is as if he’s a statue, not even allowing a breath to expand his chest any longer. At the same time, his friends are talking to each other around him, not aware of the way his whole demeanor changed in my presence.
But I notice. I always notice.
My eyes fall on Aubrey, who deftly weaves the ash-blonde girl’s hair into one large braid, their fingers tugging and pulling in a gentle rhythm. I’ve never seen that ash-blonde girl look so content before, her eyes alight with a sense of calm, and I wonder what she’s in here for. The girl obviously has some problems, but we all do. I feel a hand on my shoulder, the pressure of the touch causing my muscles to tense and my body to recoil.
“I’m sorry,” Ray says and looks me in the eye, offering me an apologetic smile. “Let’s go?”
I’m speechless and can only nod my head in response as Grey’s gaze fixes on me, studying every move I make. Even though he nearly fucked me, that doesn’t mean he has the right to have me, and I have the strongest urge to do something to make him despise me.
“Naya!” A bright voice comes from ahead, and I initially groan.
Ray seems to notice my change of mood because he pats my shoulder and gives off a laugh, standing to the side while waiting for this encounter to end. He’s nice like that, giving me space. Some guards disrespect others’ boundaries, ignoring their requests.
Aubrey runs up to me and wraps their arms around me in a tight hug, making every cell in my body crawl from the discomfort.
“Hi,” I greet awkwardly, slowly stepping back from their hold on me.
“I’ve missed you. Where have you been?”
Their question and statement catch me off guard since I’m not close with Aubrey, and guilt slowly seeps into my pores, leaving me with the regret of ever ignoring them. When I don’t immediately answer, Aubrey smiles at me before the blond guy comes up behind them and puts his arm around Aubrey. He hugs them, resting his chin on their shoulders as they turn around and kiss him. The gesture makes me visibly uncomfortable, not used to people showing each other affection, but it’s at the same time kind of cute.
