Page 115 of Mind Maze

After detangling myself, I slide off the edge of the bed. Unfortunately, I miscalculate my ability to use my muscles and crash to the floor, knocking a water carafe off the bedside table. It hits the floor with a loud clatter and the lid flies off, sending water everywhere.

Seconds later, someone rushes into the room. It’s a different nurse than last time. With her hands on her hips, she frowns at me.

“Mr. Crowne,” she chides. “You are in no condition to get out of that bed.”

Rather than helping me, she slips back out the door. The gown I’m in has fallen off one shoulder, revealing my pectoral muscle. I get a view beneath the material, quickly learning I’m not wearing a stitch of clothes underneath.

I feel at such a disadvantage right now, trapped on the floor, barely clothed, and helpless to move.

I’m sure Romy’s felt this way before…

It’s not lost on me that this is some sort of payback for what I did to her. If her life wasn’t in peril, I’d allow myself to feel the pain of the punishment. I’m remorseful for what I’ve made her endure. She didn’t deserve any of it. My obsession to find Calista overshadowed any morals I may have had.

So what changed?

You’ve been like this for a long time, man.

She changed me.

Between the yacht after I killed Gareth and now, I somehow grew attached to the woman. She’s mine and I want her back.

Deep voices can be heard nearby and I know I’m fucked.

Sure enough, two men in white lab coats stride in, both rushing over to me. I grunt and attempt to fight against them, but I’m no match in my weakened state. It’s not until they’ve placed me back in bed and restrained me with straps do I even recognize them.

Two familiar men whom I don’t like.

Doc Junior and Dr. Portman.

“I want out of here,” I growl, pinning my glare on Doc Junior. “Now. You can’t keep me here.”

He shakes his head as if I’ve got it all wrong. “I’m afraid that statement is untrue, Caius. We, in fact, can keep you here. You’re what we call research property.”

What in the hell is he talking about?

Dr. Portman shakes his head. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s lacking in bedside manner.”

Turning my attention to Dr. Portman, I snap at him, “I’m no one’s fucking property.”

“That’s not what the paperwork says,” Doc Junior chimes in. “It’s been on file for quite some time. You’d think you’d have worked to change that once you became an adult of consenting age. It’s been sitting dormant all along.”

My brain splinters at his words. “Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit,” Dr. Portman says, patting my shoulder. “Your father has conservatorship over you because of your past need for psychological care.”

I shake my head in vehemence. “You can’t do this.”

“We are,” Doc Junior says with a smugness that makes me want to wring his neck. “Your father is so worried aboutyou. Extraordinary measures have been taken to aide in your rehabilitation. And, trust me, we’re going to mend your broken mind once and for all.”

Dr. Portman nods, smiling gently at me. “We’re your doctors, Caius. We’re here to help you, not hurt you.” He winks at me. “I’m your friend.”

Something about his words makes my skin crawl.

Doc Junior, like a wicked child with a helpless puppy in his hold, tightens the vise of reality. “You and Seth have history. He’s advocating for your mental health because of your friendship.”

Seth.

Seth.

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