Page 11 of Release Me

* * *

I wake up in an office I haven’t been in before. Lifting my upper body off the sofa, I balance myself on my elbows, curious to know where I am. I appear to be alone. There isn’t anyone sitting in the chair across from me. The only other thing I can see from here is the door. Until I look to my left.

There, sitting in the chair just outside of my line of sight, is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fuckable.

Who the fuck is this guy?

He’s sitting in the exact position he was in last night.

Soit wasn’t a dream. What the fuck is going on?

“You may want to fix your towel,” he says.

I wrinkle my brow, confused by his words, and he nods toward my chest. I look down and notice my towel is drooping, my nipple almost fully exposed. Unphased, I cover it back up before standing and wrapping the towel around me a little tighter.

“Well,” I look at the mystery man. “I think I’m just going to…go.”

Walking to the door, I grab the doorknob as he begins to speak again.

“I’m looking forward to our first session later this afternoon, Brynn.”

I turn quickly at his words, and my eyes connect with his.

What is he talking about?

“I’m taking over your case from Dr. Lewis,” he says, answering the shocked and confused look I’m shooting his way.

I swear he just eyeball-fucked the shit out of me.

Staring into his gaze, I narrow my eyes and purse my lips with skepticism. This makes no sense. Why would Dr. S bring in someone heknowsI won’t be able to stay away from? Is this a trick? Are they setting me up for failure? I think about this past week and how much pain I was in while in isolation. Has the punishment continued?

Is Dr. Tall, Dark, and Fuckable to be my new misery-keeper?

I’ve used pain for pleasure in the past, and I’m sure I can do it again if that is what this man has planned for me. I see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth as he tries, horribly, to keep his smile at bay.

“Hmm.” The sound comes from my throat before I open the door and leave his office. As I walk back to my room, my body fills with excitement.

Game on.

* * *

After getting dressed, I found my way to the recreation room. In here is a television which only has three fuzzy channels, a few tables to sit around, and some chairs and sofas. I glance around the room and find Gabriella. She’s sitting alone at a table still and quiet as a mouse, as usual. My chest tightens like it does every time I’m with her.

From the moment she arrived, I knew we were connected somehow. I needed to know more about her, but of course no one was allowed to give me any information. Unfortunately, Gabriella can’t tell me about herself either. So one night, I snuck into the records room and pulled her file.

Her family makes mine seem like the Cleavers.

To say she had a rough childhood would be a grave understatement. Her mother and father kept her in a dark room from the time she was three until she was rescued a year ago, at eighteen.

They raped her, beat her, starved her. Never taught her how to speak, read, write, or how to take care of herself. Her mousy brown hair was matted horribly when they found her, and she had a terrible case of lice. She was missing a lot of her teeth, and most of the ones she did have were rotten. She was covered in her own waste, and she had infected wounds around her wrists and ankles. The picture in her case file was one of the most horrific images I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

It’s a miracle she’s lived as long as she has.

The young woman sitting at the table across the room looks a thousand times healthier than the little girl in the picture from her file. She underwent dental surgery shortly after arriving, and they replaced her teeth with veneers. They also had to stitch up a few areas on her body, inside and out. They’ve been trying to teach her to talk and read, but it’s been a slow process. She hasn’t made much progress since she got here.

I walk to the craft station and grab a basket of crayons and some paper before joining her.

“Gabriella,” I greet her as I take a seat on the other side of the table.

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