Page 34 of Exile
The words are a jumbled mess. I'm surprised he isn't stuttering, though I suppose he's had time to get his story straight. After all, it was that guard—Connor, or whatever his name is—that warned Grey of the situation.
That soon to be dead cunt Whittingham went on a power trip while under our noses. All we know so far is that Averywas escorted to his office after free time and when we noticed her absence at dinner, Grey made it his personal mission to track her down before I could say anything.
My idea was to just decapitate everyone until we found her. His was to go to the guard they have in their pocket to ask for intel. Both effective methods if you ask me, but mine is a little more fun.
Connor was already on his way to us when we located him. Word gets around fast. It sounds like the new hires can't keep their mouths shut. Since I'm unable to slice anyone's head off, I've decided the next best thing is to put them all in jaw wires to make sure they don't speak.
After all, we need to set an example. These pathetic pieces of shit think it's a bragging right—to claim victory over their treatment of the patients.
I'm well aware that this particular guard was not the one to take Aves to solitary confinement. But he seemed a littletoo happyat first, reciting the events when we cornered him.
"And where is Jonathon now?" Grey asks, his voice as dangerous and threatening as mine right now.
"I'd hurry up and answer while you can still speak," I warn.
He cowers again, physically trembling before us. If he pisses himself, I'm going to rub his damn face in it. I'm losing my patience very quickly, and it's apparent Grey isn't far behind.
"His shift finished at mealtime," he offers weakly, hands shaking as he points to the exit door for good measure. "Back tomorrow."
Grey and I share a quick look, silently seething at the discovery we can't go straight to the source.
This is a waste of time. We're not going to get any more information from this motherfucker, so I put him out of his misery, delivering my promise.
I hit his jaw with precision, another crack and crunch ringing out, followed by a throaty, pained groan. He spills to the floor clutching his jaw, eyes rolling back in agony while I step over his discarded figure.
"Christopher," Grey murmurs, unfazed by the guard. He steps over him too, but a sudden high-pitched squeal indicates that Grey gave no fucks and squashed his hand as he passed.
The two of us head directly to Smith's office. Everyone is locked away in their rooms, the last of the shower groups just returning from the bathrooms.
I don't bother to voice the question to Grey as to whether or not Smith is still on the premises, the answer presenting to me when we reach his door.
It's open, revealing the man inside. He's hunched over his desk, reading something, and when our footsteps announce our presence, he looks up with a devastated face.
"You heard," is all he says, eyes darting between us.
"What the fuck happened?" Grey asks sternly, kicking over the trash can by the desk.
Smith looks at me, slouching back before focusing on my hallway companion. "I'm not entirely sure. Arthur ordered Avery to be taken to solitary confinement, and promptly left Lilydale. I assume there was an altercation of sorts. She had blood on her face."
"Wait, you saw her?" I snap. "And you didn't do anything?"
Grey nods furiously at my words. "I swear Christopher, I'mthisclose to losing my shit with you."
Unlike the guard that turned into a fumbling mess, Smith just shrugs with a frown. "I couldn't," he starts, attempting to sound apologetic. "It happened very quickly and by the time I investigated, she was already locked up and Arthur was gone."
"Fix it," Grey orders, emphasizing each word. "Before I send you on a first class express ticket to the morgue."
"And what would you have me do?" Smith argues back. "Break down the damn door myself? Arthur has both key cards and he's not here."
I walk over to the desk, slamming both hands down as I force the psychiatrist to look at me. "Figure out a solution," I advise him. "Don't be fucking stupid. There would have to be another way to get in. You expect us to believe that only two particular cards are able to unlock it?"
Smith's eyes widen slightly before peering over my shoulder to Grey. "I can't," he answers, not directly addressing me. And it pisses me off.
Swiftly moving around the desk, I grab him by the collar, yanking him from the chair. His feet dangle off the ground slightly as I hold him by the scruff of his suit. "You can and you will."
Grey mutters a curse, dragging my attention away from the man in my fist.
"What?" I snap at him.
