Page 2 of Damaged
A few people have stepped up next to her to try to soothe and protect her from me. That’s fucking laughable. Nothing can protect her now. When my sights are set on something, I’m hyper-focused like a laser.
She’s lucky I’m handcuffed right now, or else this would be over with. I'm already deemed insane. Maybe I should show them just how insane I can be.
Hell hath no fury than a betrayed woman pissed the fuck off.
Arms encircle my waist again, crushing my secured arms between me and whichever neanderthal just lifted me off the ground. “Fucking put me down, you brainless meathead.”
One of the other cops moves up to us, helping try to restrain me so that I can be removed from the courtroom and taken tothe holding cells. He comes around in front of me to grab my legs. When he lifts them in his hold with a cocksure look in his eyes, I pull my knees to my chest, pulling him forward as well, and in quick succession with all my power, I kick out, knocking him backward onto the floor.
He looks at me with pure unadulterated anger on his face at being bested, and by a girl no less, struggling to stand and storming back over to me. “Bitch,” he curses under his breath just as he reaches down again in another attempt to secure my legs. Using the jackass behind me as leverage, I knee the fuckhead in the face, making his nose explode with blood.
Red. My favorite color.
I do enjoy watching a bitchass bleed.
“Fuck,” he screams out, cupping his face.
“That’s what you fucking get,” I scream, spitting on him. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me!”
Laughing even louder now as he’s bent over at the waist trying to staunch the bleeding, another of the uniformed buffoons grabs both of my legs around my knees from the side. This time, unfortunately for me, he is able to lift my legs from the ground.
It isn’t without tons of effort on their part, but they are finally able to move me through the double doors where the holding cells are. As I’m carried through them, I look over and my eyes once again clash with Victoria’s.
Her face is drenched in tears, making me smile. I don’t have to see my reflection to know that the look on my face right now is what would only be classified by the doctor as…psychotic.
And shit, I’m actually okay with that.
It's been a little over two weeks here at Wellard Asylum, and I'm bored out of my fucking mind. I'm walking down the hall from my room, trying to find something to do or some chaos to create.
It’s evening time and dinner is already over, so until lights out we have a bit of free time. I pass several other patients milling around, trying to occupy their time before they make us go to our rooms.
The place reeks of mold, vomit, and the underlying stench of forgotten souls. A few of the patients are talking to themselves, some just rocking back and forth, mumbling as they bang their heads against the drywall, but the majority of the halfway sane patients are in the common room, where most of our activities take place.
Heading to the main open common area, I see the small blonde nurse arguing with Jessie near the nurse’s station, trying to convince him to take his meds. I think her name is Kelsey…or Kerry…or maybe Keeley? I can’t be expected to learn every one of these motherfuckers' names here.
Anyway, Jessie is adamantly refusing to take his meds, while she currently has him blocked, cornering him against the wall, holding the little cup with his pills in one hand and a small clear cup of water in the other.
However, him refusing to take them is my fault though, because when I saw him earlier at dinner, I convinced him that the meds they are giving him are making him weak so that a pod person can take over his body in order to get inside his brain and find out all his secrets.
He’s a paranoid schizophrenic and has talked to me on a couple of occasions about aliens watching him and how the government is trying to invade his thoughts. He’s in here for killing his sister because he said she wasn’t his sister. She was a demon that took over her body and was trying to drag him to hell.
The fucker is really fun to talk to. It’s like reading Mad Libs without having to fill in the blanks. You never know what’s going to come out of his mouth next or if it will make a bit of sense. But it keeps you on your toes.
As I pass by them, he and I make eye contact. Looking at him seriously, I mouth the wordsI told you. The look of fear and anger that crosses his face is fucking comical. He bellows loudly,shocking the little nurse as he throws his arms out, hitting her with all his strength. He throws her, the meds, and the cup of water across the hallway.
She crumples to the floor as everything scatters across the floor. She grabs the back of her head where it slammed against the wall as she winces. Two large orderlies move quickly, subduing him while a different nurse injects him with a sedative. The medication is quick and effective, making his eyes roll back in his head.
“You can’t use my brain,” he starts, but his words begin to slur. “I know ‘bout the bots and…the government…is full of…can’t have my body?—”
Before he can finish whatever he was going on about, he collapses, completely knocked out. I laugh to myself as I continue walking. These fuckers are so easy to manipulate. Playing with the inmates like this keeps me entertained. If I can’t fuck with them, I honestly don’t know what I would do to pass the time, which would make things really hard for the staff. They would have a real problem. Because I need something to focus on. Something to bring some fucking joy to my day while I’m stuck in here, biding my time until I figure a way to get out.
I need to get out.
Ethan is waiting for me.
And I know he’s worried about me.
The last time we saw each other was the day I tried to kill Vicky. As they were holding me down, he kept saying he was sorry.
