Page 66 of Ashes

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I stareddown at the slip of paper in front of me and frowned.

Kiss her.

“What is this?” I glared at Sully.

“I thought perhaps you needed a reward today after the misfortune of last time.” He offered me one of his shitty smiles, which made me want to shove nails through his fucking eyeballs.

“That’s not how a reward system works unless you want me to continue my bad behavior. My failures.”

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you, Seth? That’s what has me so fascinated by you.” He scrubbed his hand down his chin. “Then don’t consider it a reward. Consider it. . . an incentive, an enticement. I’m enticing you to break into her mind and own her.”

“And what does that do for you?” I frowned at him. “How would me violating her mind benefit the great and mighty Dr. Sully?”

He’s using her to break into your mind.

He wants to use her to get to you.

Kill him.

Kill him.

KILL HIM.

We can’t kill him. We must wait until the time is right.

WAIT.

I ground my teeth and glared at Sully.

I wouldn’t kill him. Yet. The prospect of torturing him for a long time brought me great pleasure. He’d be wise to tread carefully.

“I’m a scientist,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m here to observe. To learn. You’re a remarkable creature. You’re. . . different. It fascinates me.”

“How am I different? I’m crazy like everyone else here. Yourself included.”

He flashed me a toothy smile and nodded. “You know things. We both know you do. Your diagnosis of schizophrenia isn’t accurate. We both know that.”

“Do we?” I raised my brows at him. “We both know I hear voices. Maybe I’m just really good at paying fucking attention and don’t actuallyknowthings. Maybe I just getluckysometimes.”

He shook his head at me from behind his desk and sat forward. “I’m inclined to give you a diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder. Tell me, Seth. How many voices are in your head? Who am I speaking to right now?”

I smirked at him. I’d heard this diagnosis before. I’d heard them all. Bi-polar. Narcissistic. Dissociative identity disorder. Schizophrenia. Disruptive behavior and dissocial disorders, particularly oppositional defiant disorder. And my favorite. . . neuropsychiatric disorder. Basically, they called me a psychopath.

It was a nice umbrella term as far as I was concerned.

I humbly accepted it because why the fuck not? It made them tiptoe just a bit lighter around us.

AndthatI liked.

“Who do youthinkyou’re speaking to?” I asked, studying him.

It was in the subtle way his hands shook that told me he was losing control with talking to me. He was desperate to act, but he knew I’d react. Knew I was a ticking time bomb, and he needed me for whatever his nefarious plans were.

I’d play.

I loved to play.

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