Page 69 of Royal Havoc

“It’s fine. Really, you aren’t holding me up. I don’t need to switch. I’m down to give you my number,” I mumble.

He swipes his phone and enters my number. “That’s me.” He nods when my phone vibrates.

“Got it,” I answer distractedly, shoving my notebook into my bag.

“I’ll walk you out.” He stands, waiting for me to follow him.

thirty-six

A Bit Of Tongue

Tulip: 2014 Age: 17

My legs hurt as bad as my shoulders for completely different reasons. Doc ordered the restraints to be buckled tight, forcing my shoulders back. I’ve paced around the room since he threw me in here two days ago, wearing marks on the padded floor.

I squint at the bright white squares and lean my shoulder against the padded wall by the door. I hate this room. I’d rather be strapped to the filthy chair for days.

My toes burn as I raise myself up to peek out the tiny window on the door. “Let me out!” I scream, banging my head against the metal.

Immediately, I feel the new layer of blood seep from the cut above my brow, heating my cheek. Quickly, I rub my face on one of the white squares, trying to move my crusted hair from my eye. It doesn’t work. Instead, all I’ve done is paint the square red.

Submitting to the fatigue, I turn, sliding my back down the door until I land on my butt. Even swallowing hurts my raw throat from all the screaming.

The doc thinks locking me in this room will teach me a lesson. Unfortunately for him, I’m over his stupid lessons about patience and greed. Revenge is too satisfying to resist. B told me, “methodically piecing together a moment is a gift of brilliance.” I agreed. Especially when it means you get to watch the person you hate crying at your feet while they bleed.

The door is ripped open, causing me to fall backward, my upper body landing in the marble hallway. Dan helps me to my feet, making sure I’m steady before escorting me down the hall.

The doc’s waiting in the exam room when we enter. “Leave the jacket on and help her sit on the bed,” he orders Dan without looking at us, too busy gathering instruments on a tray.

Once we’re alone, he rolls the tray beside the bed where I’m sitting to examine my brow. “Where is he?” I rasp angrily.

“The question should be, where’s Sasha?” he corrects distractedly.

I watch while he threads a needle. “Don’t ever say her name to me again. You betrayed me,” I sneer, grimacing at his lying face.

“You might be my daughter. But there are other people here, too.”

I swallow hard to keep myself from arguing. “A piece of paper doesn’t make you a father. It makes you a money-hungry monster. You’re just likethem. And the otherperson’sa slut,” I seethe, basking in the anger fueling my hate.

“By them, I assume you’re speaking about my brother and his daughter. If I were likethem, I’d have left you in the pit of theRow to rot, like they intended.” He shrugs, continuing to stitch my brow. “However, I accepted you. I’m trying to teach you —”

“I’m done with your lessons. I want out of here. I want to be free,” I hiss.

He pauses, looking at me for the first time. “You belong here with me. The Row’s your home,” he states calmly before returning to work on my face.

“I want to see B.”

He chuckles, “But does he want to see you?” He finishes with the stitches and presses a bandage over them. “Don’t get this wet when you shower. This is the last time I’ll tolerate one of your childish tantrums. If you act out like this again, I’m locking you away for good.”

He disappears through the door before I can argue, and Dan returns to remove the awful straight jacket.

“B,” I gasp excitedly when I see him. Dan picks up his step to keep up with me as I rush towards our table.

Brock stands, studying me curiously. We both take our seats, lacing our hands on our sides of the table, silently waiting for Dan to leave.

“What the hell were you thinking?” B scolds me as soon as we’re alone. “Where did they take you? Who did that to your head?”

He’s firing words at me that I should probably be listening to instead of swooning over his addictive face. He’s become my drug of choice, and I’ll never get enough. All I can hope is not to overdose.

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