Page 33 of Lunatic
“This will be helpful until I can get to my money.”
He stuffs the cash into Dr. Martin’s black bag, and Heather stares at him in obvious confusion.
“What about credit cards? I’m sure he’s got money there.”
Raven shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
“Rookie mistake. We’re going to be on the run. We aren’t taking anything that’s traceable. I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend on ever coming backhere.”
Heather rolls her eyes, but if Raven notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“Have you broken out of an insane asylum before? You act like you’re experienced.”
He laughs as he looks inside each cell as we walk, verifying they’re empty.
“Asylums, prison, school, but the last one is kind of a long story.”
I’m not sure why I’m surprised he has done time in prison. I shouldn’t be. Surely, a man that skins people alive should not be roaming free, on the streets.
One hallway leads to another, and then a dead end. Raven stops, and stares at the wall with a confused expression on his face.
“This does not look like a normal wall.”
Walking around to the side, he appears to be talking to himself.
“What do we have here?”
Grabbing a security badge from his pocket, he scans it, and doors open in front of my eyes, that were only seconds ago completely invisible.
“Is this how you got here?” Raven asks me, and I shrug my shoulders.
“I was unconscious and woke up in my room. I don’t know how I got here.”
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me into the elevator with him, and Heather follows behind me.
“Let’s get one thing clear, pretty girl. It was not a room. It was a cell, where you were being held as a prisoner. Stop calling it a fucking room, like it was a place of safety when it was anything but.”
I lower my head, and speak in a low shaky voice.
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
I don’t have a chance to respond, but Heather says it for me, and she’s right.
“It’s a fucking trauma response, dick.”
“Atrauma response?” I ask, as I hit one of the three black buttons. I’m not sure where we’ll end up because, as odd as it is, none of them are labeled. The doors slide open, I duck my head out, and notice a patient floor of the asylum, but it’s not ours. I don’t think this elevator goes to the fifth floor, where the most dangerous are housed. I wait until the doors are closed, try the bottom one, and wait to see where it goes, while Heather berates me.
“Fucking trauma! Have you experienced it? Or do you just inflict it?”
I should’ve left her on her own. Bianca would’ve fucking gotten over it.
“Yeah, I’ve known trauma.”
She places her hands on her hips and scowls at me, as if I’ve somehow offended her, when I’ve been nothing but nice to her. Mostly anyway.
“Trauma response is exactly what it sounds like, the response to trauma. It’s an automatic reaction to a situation she perceives as a threat, whether there is one or not. She apologizes to de-escalate something that may or may not occur.”
