Page 6 of Bleed for Me

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was being jostled awake. My memories were all clustered as I tried to piece together what was happening. It didn’t take long for it all to come rushing back. My throat constricted as I peeled my eyes open, a large white building standing up ahead.

The cop with black hair was at my door, his hand on my shoulder. “Wakey, wakey.” He grinned maliciously, clearly getting a kick out of torturing me.

I glanced back at the building, my eyes scanning the large sign positioned at the front. Fear spiked through my veins, causing my heart to palpitate.

Welcome to Brookhaven Psychiatric Institution.

An Asylum?

TWO

JORDAN

Adrenaline pumped through my veins, blood coating my knuckles. The sorry son of a bitch sat beneath my weight on the dirty bathroom floor, his eyes panicked as they peered into mine frantically. If he thought that sad little look would deter me, he was sorely mistaken. I got off from his fear alone, he was only stoking the beast lurking beneath my skin.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” I growled, grasping the front of his wifebeater in my fingers. “Why did he send you to spy on me?”

He shook his head back and forth ferociously. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Jordan, Iswear.” A pathetic sob got lodged in his throat, making his words come out choked. “I just had to go to the bathroom. When I saw it was you in here, I hesitated. That’s all. You have to believe me.”

My, my, he was very convincing. Unfortunately for him, he’d have to do a lot better than that. I’d just finished washing my hands when I spotted him poking his head around the corner, staring me down like he was trying to get a read on me or some shit.

I inhaled deeply, his fear so potent that I could fucking taste it. Exhilaration pumped through my veins, bringing forth a high that I’d been refused for too long. He had to be spying on me for Dr. Theodore, right? He couldn’t possibly be telling me the truth.

It was hard to tell.

I’d been diagnosed with Delusional Disorder and Psychosis, so it wasn’t always easy to separate reality from the inner workings of my mind. The medication they gave me made me sick. It turned me into a zombie, to the point of not being able to shower myself properly. So, I simply just didn’t take it. They knew better than to question me most of the time.

Tyler’s nasally voice sliced through my thoughts. “Please. Just let me go. I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.” His mouth was busted, blood trickling down his chin. My lips twitched in amusement. Seven would go crazy if he were here right now.

Sighing, I eased up.

You’re just being paranoid. Let the poor kid go.

Quit being a fuck-up.

He just had to use the bathroom. You’re scaring him.

If you kill him, you’ll really have to deal with Dr. Theodore then.

Swiping my hands through my blonde hair, I shook my head, trying to force the unwanted thoughts away. They were right, though. Dr. Theodore turned a blind eye to a lot of things, but murder wasn’t one of them.

I rose, staring down at the wimpy looking kid still sprawled out on the nasty tile. Hope flashed within his almond-colored eyes.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I growled. “And if you utter a word of this to anyone, I’ll finish the fucking job.” I narrowed my eyes at him for emphasis.

He nodded frantically and stumbled to his feet. “I won’t say anything, you have my word.”

His word didn’t mean shit to me, but before I could tell him as much, he was already bolting out of the room. Blood seeped into the floor and my lip curled. That was a mess that would be difficult to clean. Then again, why bother? Fights broke out here all the time. If there was no body to go with it, then they’d just figure that was all it was.

Glancing down at my white T-shirt, a sigh fluttered past my lips. Blood stained my collar, chest, and stomach. I peeled the shirt from my body, letting it fall to the floor. My tatted torso was on full display, the mirror shining my reflection back at me. I was sixteen when I got my first tattoo. It had been a Pentacle my friend’s dad had done. He owned a tattoo shop back in my hometown and was exceptionally talented. It was located on my bicep. My mom had been horrified when she saw it, demanding to know who had the audacity to tattoo her son in the first place, let alone something asdemonicas a pentacle.

A small smile graced my lips but was soon wiped clean off as pain laced through my chest. I shoved my sweats down my legs, followed by my boxers and made my way over to one of the many shower stalls that adorned this place. Reaching inside, I turned on the water. I’d already prepared for a shower before that asshole had interrupted my quiet time. My clothes were placed on a bench only a few feet away. I suppose that if there ever was a good time to get drenched in blood, it was now.

Once the temperature was to my liking, I stepped beneath the hot spray. The liquid pelted my skin, washing the blood from my hands and wrists down the drain.

My breath hitched as memories resurfaced, reminding me why I was even here in the first place. I’d done some fucked up things during my episodes. Things that could never be undone again. I think what triggered them in the first place was witnessing my father kill my mom in cold blood. I’d never encountered an episode prior to that event. I was sent tolive with my step-Aunt and Uncle. It seemed like the perfect arrangement. Their son—my half-cousin, was away at college and they had a spare room. Plus, they were lonely. I still remembered everything that had happened the night it all went wrong…

My head spun, voices caressing my mind, telling me things that weren’t right. A part of me knew that they weren’t right, but my head steered all of my actions. It was like I was in a daze. The other part of me felt like it was right, too. A complete tug of war within my mind.

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