Page 15 of Bleed for Me

“Weweremeditating before you interrupted,” I snapped in a clipped tone.

Seven snorted from beside me, not even bothering to spare her a glance.

If there was one thing this place took seriously, it was ensuring we had every opportunity to work on our coping methods and potentially get better. Not that it ever truly mattered as far as Dr. Theodore was concerned, but the staff hadn’t put that together themselves. Why would they? As soon as they clocked out for the day, they went home to their families and didn’t spare us a second thought.

Gloria’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, um… sorry about that. I just had to do head count really quickly.” She raised her clipboard in the air for emphasis. “I’ll leave you to it now.” Another fake smile and she was slipping back into the hallway.

“You think she gives good head?” Seven joked.

I laughed and shoved him despite the small pang slicing through my chest at his words. That was another thing I didn’t want to dwell on at the moment.

When we got to the gym, Jordan was already there shooting hoops. Sweat trickled along the sides of his face as he jumped to do a layup. The ball slid through the net without even touching the rim of the basket. He must have been here for a while if he was already sweating the way he was.

We strode across the court to meet up with him and I snatched the ball mid air when he attempted another shot. He arched an eyebrow, his chest moving up and down heavily ashe worked to catch his breath. Dark blonde hair clung to his forehead, the moisture from his body dampening it.

“Get out of therapy early?” I asked, placing the ball beneath my elbow and bracing it against my body.

“Yeah. Mrs. Marlene had a family emergency.” He rolled his eyes as if he didn’t believe it, which was fair. She’d been cutting classes early on him at least once a week for the last two months.

“Good thing you got a lot of drawing in today, then,” Seven chimed in on the opposite side of him.

Jordan sighed, his expression tightening. I knew what he was thinking. It wasn’t good enough for him. He needed more than just a pencil against paper. He needed to mold things, to control the way they shaped. He needed to paint and create vibrant colors to help express his emotions since he wasn’t comfortable sharing them. Art therapy was an outlet for him. As long as I’d known him, he hadn’t missed a single class.

“Do you still want to play?” I questioned.

Jordan swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Fuck yeah, I do.”

I smiled and threw the ball at him. His reflexes were fast, and he caught the ball before it smacked him in the chest. He bounced it against the floor a few times before moving to take his stance a good way from the goal. With a flick of his wrist, the orange object spiraled through the air again and hit its target, making the net swish with it.

Seven and I lined up behind him and we all took turns shooting the ball into the basket. Normally, we’d play keep-away without any regulations, but Jordan hadn’t seemed interested in doing that today.

After about an hour of doing that, we found ourselves sitting on one of the benches near the wall. Jordan had taken his shirt off, his muscles glistening with sweat. Tattoos marred his flesh, reminding me of the sleeve I had. Unlike his, mine containedmeaning. The letterKwas tattooed into the back of my shoulder with flowers and vines protruding from it—my way of telling Kaydence that I was sorry. On my left tricep was an upside down cross with blood dripping down it. A reminder that God wasn’t real, because if he was, none of us would be suffering with all these fucked up problems.

My parents were both religious. As a kid, they forced me to go to church with them. Eventually, I started enjoying it and became hopeful of the afterlife, wanting to do everything I could to appease the God that they worshipped. I studied the bible, went to night class on Wednesday, went to church on Sunday, andreallytried. And all for what? To accidentally snap and murder someone in the next breath. What kind ofGodwould allow that?

Glancing over at Jordan, his jaw was tense and his eyes were glazed over like he was deep in thought.

“Are you okay?” Seven asked him, clearly witnessing the same thing and drawing up the same concerns.

Jordan’s eyes snapped to his, his shoulders and chest moving in rapid succession. He huffed a laugh as if it were nothing to worry about, but nervous energy prickled along my skin regardless. “The voices are just loud sometimes.” He forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

As much as I wanted to believe that, if it were trulynothingas he claimed, he wouldn’t be acting so weird and hostile lately. I didn’t know how he gained his split knuckles, but it was easy to speculate, especially since I’d seen it in action on more than one occasion.

He must have felt our skepticism because he rose to his feet abruptly. “I think I just need a nap. I’ll see you guys later.”

“What about dinner?” I asked.

He waved me off with a flick of his hand. “I’ll eat some crackers or something later.” With those last words, he made a beeline for the exit and slipped out of the room.

“Speaking of dinner,” Seven began. “It’s about that time. You want to head to the cafeteria?”

“Sure.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really wrong with Jordan though. Even as we made our way out of the gym, it weighed on me. Having delusion disorder mixed with psychosis wasn’t a good combination. He refused to take his medication, hating the way it made him feel, but it seemed like he needed it badly.

Sighing, I lifted my gaze from the floor, my eyes widening when I spotted Rosalie further down the hallway. My heart started racing, intrigue coursing through my veins and causing my skin to heat. She was walking into church with a few other patients, Pastor Valentine strolling in behind her.

A wicked idea sprang to mind, taking root at one part of my brain and spreading through it until it was the only thing I could think about.

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