Page 3 of Damaged
I could hear it in his voice. He was so distraught that they were taking me.
Even if I couldn’t see his face, I know he wants to make it up to me.
Looking around the common area, I see a few of the other patients doing their own things. Playing checkers, watching theboring ass painting show on the only television in the unit that they think keeps us calm, or staring out the windows or at the wall. I will be honest, it’s not just the staff that I don’t keep track of. I only remember a name if they are important.
Everyone else is an NPC to me.
Most everyone stays away. I’ve been told my resting bitch face scares everyone, along with my homicidal tendencies, as the nurses so eloquently put it. Which I’m okay with. I’m not here to make friends. I’m just passing through. Because as soon as I come up with my plan to get the fuck out of here, I will be gone and never look back.
This place is dreary as hell. And the staff is just as bad, if not worse, than the inmates.
Leaning against the far wall with my back to the room, I try to kill time, looking out the large bay window with my arms crossed in front of me.
“Hey, Toots. How’s it going?” Jackson says as he approaches me, looking over my shoulder at the commotion where they are dragging Jessie down one of the locked hallways. I follow his line of sight, then back over at him with a devious smile.
Jackson is my age standing a little over six feet tall with curly light brown hair, light brown eyes that border on golden with cheek bones, and a jaw that looks as if they were chiseled by the gods themselves.
His eyelashes are so long and dark that they look as if he’s wearing mascara. If he didn’t have all those tattoos or that deep ass voice, he could definitely be called pretty. He could probably be a model.
He was the first one to approach me here and my resting bitch face didn’t stop him. It was nice for a change. Plus, he’s fun to talk to.
“Oh you know…Jessie being Jessie,” I respond, making Jackson laugh.
“So…” he says, checking around us and lowering his voice so only I can hear him. “I helped Sean this afternoon, taking stuff to the laundry room.” I nod my head, listening and glancing around as well.
“What did you find out back there?”
We’ve both been trying to find a way out of here and promised each other we will go together.
“The back door of the laundry room needs a keycard to get out. While I was there loading stuff into the machines, that bitch Christina used hers to go out there for a smoke.”
The smile that lifts my lips does not reach my eyes. I’ve been waiting to see where her keycard would have access to. This is amazing news.
“When the door is open, can you see outside?”
He nods his head slowly, and a dark, savage smile lifts his lips. “And it looks like that leads down the main road with no obstructions.”
“Good. I say we do this tomorrow night. Be ready in your room after lights out. When I’m done getting the keycard from her, I will come get you.”
“How are you planning to get it from her?”
“Don’t worry about that. I got something just for her,” I say with a little laugh.
Jackson gives me a little shrug and a laugh just as his eyes lift over my shoulder and his entire demeanor changes. Now I’m curious who is approaching.
I can feel the asshole approach before I actually see him, because I can smell the heavy cologne that he always wears. The overwhelming aroma always makes me want to gag. I think he bathes in it before coming to work.
It reeks like a cheap knock-off of Sauvage by Dior, but the mix is way off. Which pisses me off because that used to be oneof my favorite scents, and now I will forever associate it with this dickhead.
I think he’s also trying to cover up the smell of whiskey on his breath, which he is constantly drinking out of his coffee cup. I can smell it when he gets too close.
“The fuck does he want?” Jackson asks me.
“Who knows,” I reply. “Go on. I’ll find you in a bit.”
“You sure?” I nod, but Jackson just eyes me for a second before his attention starts to bounce between me and Andrew, the asshole now standing behind me.
“Yeah. I’m good.” Jackson nods and walks off, sitting on a nearby couch. I don’t want to put a target on his back as well, but I’m sure he’s just trying to look out for me.
