Page 129 of Doesn't Count

“Touch her and I promise I will kill you. It won’t be hard.” He threatens.

“Stop! I’m right here, I won’t go anywhere. He just needs to check you out. He won’t hurt you.”

Finally, he looks back down at me. “They’re going to try again. Ash, this time I know they will kill you and I will obliterate the entire human race before I let that happen.”

For the first time, I actually fear that Khaos might do just that. I’ve seen what he’s capable of and I know he would never hurt me, but he will hurt others if it comes to it.

“You don’t have to do that. They’re not going to come for us. They’ve been caught.”

A dark, maniacal laugh rips past his lips, his eyes wild. “You really think that will stop him? You think that he doesn’t have sway outside of jail bars?”

Suddenly, May’s face comes to mind. Her sweet, innocent story about being a victim rather than the villain. I believed it, I still want to believe it. She’s the one that saved us in the first place, but there’s always a chance she’ll change her mind...

Shaking my head, I rid myself of those thoughts. I can’t let his delusions get to me.

“Look, the sooner you get better, the quicker we can get out of here. We can move far away, just you and me. We can get that place together,betogether.”

The nurse takes another step towards him and now even I can feel myself go rigid.

Khaos’ eyes snap up behind me, a dark filmturning the color of amber into a midnight sky void of stars. My fingers twist into the front of his gown, desperate to get him to refocus. What he did with Bordeaux was defendable, what he’s doing now... isn’t.

Slowly, he forces me behind him as if shielding me from the stranger. I can see in the corner of the room, the woman that walked me over here is whispering into her radio, surely calling security.

“I warned you.”

In a mad rush, Khaos lunges forward, hands outstretched towards the nurse. Before he has the chance to commit assault on a medical professional, the other two are pouncing. Both of Khaos’ arms are restrained behind him as he thrashes in their hold, spewing threats.

Two security guards come jogging into the room, forcing me to press against the wall. I watch in horror as four men lift Khaos and pin him to the hospital bed. His back arches off the mattress as he strains and struggles to break himself free. The more his body writhes, the whiter the nurses’ knuckles grow. While a needle is readied, the guard at his left foot holds his leg as still as possible. Tears stream heavily down my cheeks as the silver glint disappears into Khaos’ skin, his limbs twitching, and his fight giving out. Slowly, the nurses and guards release their hold as Khaos’ head falls to the side, his eyes finding mine in a panic before they’re forced to close.

“You should go now.” One of the nurses tells me between heavy breaths.

Except, I’m paralyzed, my feet rooted to the tile floor. I can’t look away from Khaos, his body relaxed, but his face still so tense. Like he’s now stuck inside his own head, defenseless.

I want to crawl inside his nightmares with him and fight his demons that plague his reality now. To curl up next to his unconscious body and wrap his limp arm around me. To meldmyself to him so he can never leave me again, but none of those things happen. Instead, the woman that led me in here, grips my wrist and drags me away.

Horror replaces every ounce of blood inside my veins as I watch the nurses’ wheel Khaos out of the room.

“Where are they taking him? Where is he going?” I can’t stop the crack in my voice as if everything in me is breaking; my heart, my body, my soul.

I don’t dare look at her when she says, “He’s being transferred to a rehabilitation facility that specializes in behavioral and psychiatric health. He’s going to get some much-needed help. He’s going to be okay.”

Her tone is drenched in pity, striking a nerve deep within me. I want none of her sympathy or anyone’s for that matter. All I want is to rewind time before I even knew that Oliver was still alive and that he is Khaos.

Chapter Thirty

Khaos

“Where did you just go?”

“Hmm?” I ask, not quite hearing the question.

Dr. Gillispie pinches his lips, tapping his pen against the open page of his notebook. He adjusts his glasses that have slid a bit on his long, slender nose.

“When you dissociate, where does your mind go?” He repeats with a patience he’s practiced for a lifetime.

I don’t want to talk about it, I hate talking about it, and it’s ALL I’ve talked about the last few months here in rehab. After I was found, it was strongly encouraged by the court that I undergo an extensive rehabilitation program to work through the years of trauma from the cult. Only, I didn’t get the opportunity to make the decision myself because of the psychotic break in the hospital, but regardless, the choice was never really mine. With all the sins I’ve committed in the years with thefamily, it was either this or prison and this seemed a little more productive.

I clear my throat, taking my time, thinking about how to say what’s been reeling through my mind on a daily basis.

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