Page 23 of Unwell
I let myself sink into it, luxuriating in the slip of her warm tongue and the way she gasped.
I allowed it for one heartbeat too long.
A wave of nausea clutched me. I jerked back and glanced over my shoulder. The room and corridor beyond were thankfully empty.
‘I can’t do this,’ I breathed. Shame and heat had my pulse thudding in my chest. ‘I can’t.’
I fled like a rat scurrying from a broom, dashing into the hall and slamming the door behind me.
The peeling wall dug into my back as I pressed my hands to my face, trying to remove the memory of her touch.
But when I lowered my fingers, they grazed my lips.
Still warm.
Still tingling.
And a pang of longing flooded the space between my thighs. I tried to swallow the feelings.
It’s not about me.
It was about Ginny.
Who would do such a terrible thing to her? Who would want to hurt someone so fragile? Another patient, driven by their madness? A member of staff toying with the helpless? It wouldn’t be the first time.
It wasn’t unheard of in Wellard for patients to break over time. Both physically and mentally. The crimes against them laughed off. Their injuries were ignored.
Losing a little hair was nothing compared to the states I’d found others in. Even with the cuts and grazes, she’d gotten off lightly. For now.
And yet, Ginny’s sobs echoed in my skull. Her tender touch and sweet words. The swell of her stomach and her taste on my lips.
Sweet Ginny.
I closed my eyes so tight that stars blossomed behind them.
I would protect her.
Somehow.
FOURTEEN
GINNY
Larry paced the rec room, boots thudding against the scuffed floor like the heavy clop of cattle. He knocked chairs around with his meaty hands balled into fists. His cheeks puffed in and out like he couldn’t figure out how to breathe.
‘They’re gone,’ he repeated over and over. ‘My friends are gone. They were here, and now they’re not.Where are they?’
His voice was stricken with pain, and it twisted low in my stomach.
His rats were gone. Like my ribbons.
Others stayed back, cowering in the corners with wide eyes and gaping mouths. The gentle giant rarelyscared anyone; his temper was usually kept at bay with the cocktail of pills he consumed daily.
‘Larry.’ I stepped closer, raising my hands in a signal of peace I hoped he’d recognise.
When he spun to face me, tears streaked his cheeks.
‘Somebody tookthem.’ His breath came fast, chest heaving. ‘They wouldn’t leave me. Not my friends. They never stay away this long. They need to eat.’
