Page 57 of Bleed for Me

Jordan nodded. “His uncle is Dr. Theodore. Theodore Brookhaven to be exact. His father is the mayor of Brookhaven.”

“Then what is he doing here? Wouldn’t the mayor have some kind of sway with that kind of thing?” As much as I hated to admit it, people from powerful bloodlines tended to get a free pass on a lot of shit.

He released a heavy sigh. “The allegations against Ryder were severe. There was no way around them. His father pulled a few strings to get him sent here instead of sent to prison, but that’s the best he could do.”

I shook my head, trying to keep up. Ryder wasn’t mentally ill…which meant he was here for different purposes. “W-what kind of allegations?” I demanded, unable to keep the nervous stutter from lacing through my words.

“He’s a serial rapist and a murderer, Rosalie.”

SIXTEEN

VALENTINE

The wood of the railing pressed against my forearms as I leaned over my back porch, my gaze resting along the large fence that surrounded the asylum. When I moved here, I’d been unaware of how close my new home was to the asylum, but it was convenient. The asylum wasn’t the only place I preached at. Despite having my business degree and allowing meatheads to run it, I worked at a religious school Monday through Friday from seven in the morning to four in the evening. I just couldn’t bring myself to work at my father’s business. Not yet anyways—not without him there.

It had been six years since he was murdered, and I was still so haunted by it as if it had happened a week ago. There was a part of me that wished I would have sucked it up and gone upstairs to view the damage, but that would have opened an entirely new can of horrors, ones that I’d probably never be able to get out of my mind. So instead, I was left with my imagination.

Father and Lucille would laugh if they could see me now. Preaching at an asylum and working at a Christian school. It was a far cry from the person I used to be back then. Sometimes Imissed that life. The only family member I had left was my mom, and we rarely saw eye to eye. If she had it her way, I would have forgiven Jordan for the things he did and welcomed him back with open arms. But she hated my dad. Hated Lucille, too. So, her opinion on the matter was completely biased.

Lifting my mug to my lips, I took a swallow of hot, steaming coffee. The liquid burned my tongue as it made its way down my throat, but it was a comfort, and part of my morning routine.

My backyard stretched out for yards and yards, leading to the back fence of the asylum. On the other side were nothing but trees. There weren’t many houses here, which was good. It gave me solidarity and kept nosey kids away from the psychiatric institution. For some reason that I couldn’t fully comprehend, people were intrigued by the mentally ill.

Casting one final look around my backyard, I grabbed my coffee and drifted back into my home. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I headed toward the kitchen, taking one last drink of my coffee before pouring the rest down the drain. I placed my cup in the sink, grabbed my keys off the island, and made my way out the front door.

The birds chirped in synchronization, calling out to one another in a melodic tune as I headed down the gravel pathway toward my Honda Civic. This had been one of the first things I’d purchased with my father’s will, and the vehicle was still in excellent condition.

My fingertips brushed along the fine, gray polish of the hood as I rounded the car and slipped inside the driver’s seat. Not bothering to buckle, I placed the key into the ignition and twisted. The smooth hum of the engine roared to life, causing the vehicle to vibrate beneath my shoes. Sighing in contempt, my head rested against the seat, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I willed myself to move. This life was a lonely one. My days consisted of the same routines. Once a week, I’d visit mymother, and she’d spew the same bullshit about wishing I had it in my heart to forgive my baby cousin. She’d tell me everything happened for a reason, regarding the death of the two people I loved more than anything and their unborn child. She’d try convincing me to take her to the casino since she was broke, and lived off government assistance, therefore, she couldn’t afford to take herself, and then she’d make fun of how I chose to spend my time and where I chose to go to work. Seeing her always left me feeling drained and tempted me to drown the memories of our interactions out with a bottle of the strongest tequila. On the days I didn’t have to go to the asylum, I’d come back home after work, put on a movie, plan out my preachings for the next services, attempt to cook foods I’d never made before, make sure my kitchen was fully stocked, and nap to pass the time.

Sister Vivian, from Holy Revelations Christian School, had made it apparent that she wanted me to go out with her. I’d ignored her advances thus far. My life already consisted of religion inside and out. I’d like to do something that wasn’t tied to anything of the sort, which was precisely why I hadn’t taken her up on her offer, yet. She was young, pretty, and had everything going for her. But with how lonely and mundane my life was, it was hard not to consider.

Blowing out a breath, I put the car in reverse and whipped out of my driveway.

The drive to Brookhaven Psychiatric Institution was short. Once I parked my car and went inside, I checked in up front and grabbed a badge before making my way to my class. Unlocking the door, I flicked on the light and glanced around finding it exactly as I’d left it. You could never be too careful in a place like this.

After my conversation with Rosalie last week, I’d cleared out the storage room and set up her own little office. She seemed so excited to be more involved, and I figured it was the least I coulddo given that she was stuck in this place with a bunch of lunatics. I pushed open the door to her new office and turned on the light. A desk sat near the back of the room with stationery organized along the polished wood. She wouldn’t get much use out of it on Sundays, but she could help me organize some things after service ended if she wanted.

Pulling the door closed, I made my way to the podium on stage and opened my bible, skimming the newest things I’d highlighted. Today’s sermon was about greed and how jealousy could stem from having less than another.

It didn’t take long for patients to start trickling in. My classes were never very full, so everyone who wanted to come showed up within the first ten minutes of the doors being opened. Once the last person had entered, I instructed them to pull the door closed.

I led everyone into a prayer and then hit the button on the projector for the music to play. As everyone stood and sang along with the lyrics displayed on the wall, I glanced around the room. Not surprisingly, Archer was here again, his eyes pinned on the back of Rosalie’s head where she stood a row in front of him. She’d chosen the seat next to Tyler, the two of them seemingly friends if their back-and-forth conversations and smiles were anything to go by. He wasn’t a bad kid, but he still creeped me the hell out.

After the music ended, I cleared my throat and placed my hands on either side of the opened bible with my mic on and ready to go. I felt like a hypocrite standing up here. I was far from the perfect, Christian man that everyone viewed me as. My heart and mind were tainted by years of trauma, greed, envy, lust, rage, and the need to seek out vengeance. While those things faded over time, they were still there on occasion. It was difficult. Knowing what it felt like to be inside a woman only then to become celibate with nothing but reminders of what ithad been like. I was greedy with my time, only going to work and to volunteer at the asylum, and then spending the remainder of my life at home. I might have appeared calm and collected on the outside, but inside, I was filled with rage. When Jordan came into my class last week, taunting me and making a mockery out of the vile things he’d done, it took everything in me not to throw myself at him. I was jealous of people who had normal lives. They had happy families, were in healthy relationships, and were financially set. Their family members didn’t go around murdering people and then laughing in your face about it. Sometimes, I still wanted revenge against Jordan. I wanted to make him suffer as I had.

My hands shook where they rested, regret trickling through my chest at the horrid thoughts consuming my mind. Everyone watched me expectantly, waiting for me to speak, to lead them toward the Lord when I wasn’t so sure I even knew what that meant anymore.

I rambled off one of the scriptures, my heart not in it as much as it normally was—as much as it should have been. They were all listening with rapt attention, like I hung the fucking moon.

God…please forgive me for I have sinned.

Rosalie found me after class like I’d expected her to do. Truthfully, I wanted to turn her away and wallow in my self-loathing. But I knew I’d regret that, too.

“I hung up those brochures,” she said from my doorway.

I angled my head to look at her from where I sat in my lush, leather chair behind my desk. “Do you plan on going to the retreat?” I asked. I’d seen her file. There was no reason sheshouldn’t be able to attend. Most of the Dr’s notes boasted about her progress.

She pulled her plump lower lip between her sparkling white teeth as she mulled that over for a moment. She was stunning. I’d noticed it before, but when Jordan came and interrupted, my mind wasn’t exactly on her or her appearance. She wore a red and black plaid skirt today that brushed along the tops of her thighs, paired with black stockings and a matching top. Her long blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves.

---