Page 16 of Bad for Me

“My home. Well,ourhome.” He corrects quickly. “Isaac tends to live in the guest house out back, but I think he’ll be moving into the main house now that you’re here.”

I’m in Dr. Carlton’shouse. Where is that exactly? And how did I get here? The last thing I remember, I was standing in my towel… I glance down. My towel is gone but I’m not naked. I’ve been dressed in my favorite pajama set. The silky cream-colored top and matching loose-fitted capris are a welcomed sight.

But the relief at not being naked fades as I realize that in order to know which pajamas were my favorite, I had to be watched and studied.

“Would you like some more water?”

I nod slowly, trying not to let dread creep up and overwhelm me. The only way to survive a situation like this is to keep a clear head. At least that’s what I’ve been told via true crime documentaries.

Dr. Carlton’s arm tightens around my waist as he pulls me closer and brings the glass back to my lips. As the water trickles down my throat, I try to look at this situation objectively. I’m not trained when it comes to hostage situations. But I can do a deep dive into my captors’ minds—what I don’t already know, I can ferret out and possibly use to my advantage to get out of here.

But do I want to?

The small thought, like a tumbleweed of curiosity, rolls across my consciousness—teasing an impossibility. It startles me so badly that I stiffen and sit up in one swift motion. I blink in surprise. Marveling at the regained ability, I lift my hands and curl my fingers. There’s a delay in response, my fingers taking their time curving into my palm. At least it’s better than nothing.

Can I trust my legs if I try to get to my feet?

“There you go. Feeling better?”

I turn to look at Dr. Carlton. He’s dressed more casually than before, dressed down in a knitted sweater and jeans. His silver hair is now tousled rather than slicked back. My fingers itch to reach up and run through it.

No! What is wrong with me?

“I’d be better if I wasn’t drugged.” My voice comes out a bit slurred.

“Yes, well I would have preferred not drugging you. It’s poor form to start off on this foot but here we are.” He shrugs, a frown tugging his mouth downward. “I promise to make up for the rocky start.”

I snort. “No, I think the blackmailing was a shit place to start, but what do I know? Maybe that will end up being the least of my worries now that I’ve been officially kidnapped.”

A shiver of unease creeps down my spine. The words come out as sarcastic but there is a ring of truth to them.

Oh shit… I’ve beenkidnapped.

Dr. Carlton tsks. “Kidnapped is a strong word. It implies you aren’t able to come and go as you please. May I suggest ‘temporarily begrudged guest’ instead?”

His smile is strangely playful and charming. Gone is the slightly guarded psychiatrist and boss that I’ve seen in the office. Here, in his home, Bernard Carlton can lower his guard. I don’t hate what I see.

Then again, the charm could be an attempt to disarm me before he commences on his plan to torture, rape, and kill me. Ted Bundy was a charmer—or so they say. My stomach knots in apprehension.

“I can leave?” I glance toward the office door then back to his face.

He nods and smiles. “Absolutely.”

There’s a catch, I can feel it. Pulling my legs toward me, I tuck them under my butt and lean away from Dr. Carlton. Maybe distance will give me perspective.

“But…?”

He quirks an eyebrow upward. His eyes, a pale green like his son’s, consider me closely. “Who says there’s a but?”

Again, my eyes bounce to the door then back to his face.

“Dr. Carlton?—”

“Bernard.”

I swallow but nod once. “Bernard… I hope you didn’t hire me three years ago on the off chance that I came off as stupid. You threatened to blackmail me. I’m assuming that’s what you think will keep me here. Am I right?”

He tilts his head to one side, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles at me.

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