Page 12 of Bleed for Me

I was getting tired of being locked up like some kind of criminal. I’d never even had homicidal thoughts before. This felt inhumane. Sighing, I pushed through the door, letting it close softly behind me.

This room had a lot more color than any of the other rooms I’d been in before. A small leather sofa sat against the wall closest to the entrance with a wooden coffee table in front of it. The floor actually hadcarpetthat complimented the rest of the room nicely. The walls were painted a light gray color and to the right was a large wooden desk with a younger looking man seated behind it.

Dr. Blake’s black hair was kept short, his face extremely smooth and baby-like. Hell, he looked like a college student. Striding across the room, I sank into the chair across from him and waited expectantly.

“Rosalie, I presume,” he said, tasting my name on his tongue and meeting my gaze. Even though he hadn’t said it like a question, I knew he wanted a response.

“Yes.”

He nodded and glanced down at the folder he was looking at when I’d first entered. “I’m going to make this quick. Today isn’t an official one-on-one session, I just wanted to see where your head was at and see if there’s anything that requires immediate assistance at this time.”

In other words, he wanted to see how crazy I was and if that required immediate medication.

When I didn’t say anything, his expression softened slightly. “Can you go over what happened that night? I know you’veprobably told this story several times by now, but it’s all part of the process in finding the root to what the trigger had been that caused you to snap in the first place,” he explained.

The trigger? The trigger had been fight or flight. I did what I could to save my sister and in the end, it still wasn’t enough.

Just to get him off my back, I went over the events that had unfolded the night I wound up in the hospital. He was quiet as I spoke and his patience helped to ease some of the tension in my shoulders. When I was done talking, he scribbled something on a piece of paper.

“It sounds like you might have a form of dissociative disorder and PTSD,” he continued. “It’s not uncommon given the trauma you experienced. I won’t know exactly how much this will affect you moving forward until we’ve had the chance to speak more.”

I balked.

Dissociativedisorder?

“W-what does that even mean?” I asked in bewilderment, scared that what he was implying might have been true.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I mean that your stepfather was already dead when your sister was killed. He didn’t kill her.” He grimaced. “Youdid.”

FOUR

ARCHER

Rosalie.

The newest addition to this hell hole they deemed a mental institution. From the moment she spoke, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, lightly baked skin. The girl was completely out of her element here. Once she got the hang of things, that timidness within her would diminish. I’d seen it happen time and time again. I just wanted a taste before that happened.

The last time I’d been this attracted to a girl was—well, it was when I followed Kaydence into the woods. My posture went rigid at that reminder. I didn’t even think I’d been choking her that hard, or for that long. It was like…something snapped inside of me and the control within my body diminished.

Warm hands trailed up my hips, slipping beneath my shirt and sending a shudder of desire tumbling through me. All thoughts about Rosalie and about Kaydence flickered out of existence as I was pulled back to reality.

Jordan was seated in the chair that the staff insisted on bolting to the ground, his eyes fixated on his sketchpad. All hedid was draw, keeping to himself most of the time. I couldn’t worry about that now, though as Seven continued trailing his fingers along the ridges of my abs. He pressed into me more, the feel of his erection digging into my lower back due to our height differences.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a low growl even to my own ears.

He nipped at the shell of my ear. “Distracting you. Is it working?” He knew me too fucking well. I spun around to face him, desire coursing through my veins. His eyes were the same shade of blue as hers were—asminewere.

A smile curled the corners of my mouth upwards, and I fisted my hand in the front of his shirt, tugging him even closer to me. Our relationship was easy. We were best friends, didn’t mind what was between a person’s legs as long as they were attractive, and jealousy had never been an issue. Then again, neither of us were thesettlingtype when it came to women. They were all crazy bitches here. I’d fucked Alina a few times and now she was stuck to me like a leech. That, however, was before I realized how insane she was.

Seven must have realized I’d fallen captive to my thoughts again, because he fisted his hand in my hair, jerking my head back. A delicious current of pain traveled through my scalp and my lips parted on a surprised gasp. He took that opportunity to smash his lips against mine, his warm breath feathering against my skin and tongue.

A low growl vibrated through his chest as our teeth clashed, both of us fighting for dominance as we always did. The sound of Jordan’s pencil against the paper continued which would have made me laugh had it not been a normal occurrence. He never seemed to mind the two of us getting hot and heavy in front of him, and if it did bother him, he was welcome to leave. This wasmyroom, after all.

My tongue slipped inside Seven’s mouth, tangling with his. Our bodies were pressed so close together that there was no longer any room between us. Just the way I liked it. His cock moved against mine through our pants, the feel of it turning me on even more.

“Fuck,” he groaned, peeling his lips away from mine and breathing heavily. A hungry look had taken over his expression, dilating his eyes.

We didn’t make a habit out of doing this in our rooms, knowing a staff member could poke their head in at any given time and it would be reported to Dr. Theodore—the asshole in charge of this place. He was a sadistic piece of shit who believed that torturing his patients would grant him his desired results. Most people who ended up in his experimental room didn’t survive very long, and if they did, their brain had turned to mush from being fucked with too many times.

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