Page 10 of Under the Bed

When I take over her world.

Ruthlessly. Viciously. Completely.

No more hiding from me. Not-fucking-ever.

“But—”

“I’d appreciate it if you refrained from provoking Mr. Blackwood.”

Hate being called Mr. Blackwood. My dead father’s name. I make no signs of showing my contempt, though.

“Yeah, yeah.” An orange leaf detaches from its branch to my right, falling on top of Dick’s bald head. He brushes it off. “Only the best for Mr. Blackwood.”

Jesus, enough with that name.

“Good.” My doctor pats down his green plaid shirt.

Another nervous gesture.

He’s been studying me, true. I’ve learned all I could about him, too.

“Kaleb, what about you?” More shirt smoothing. More anxiety pouring out of him.

It’s a direct reaction to the narrowing of my eyes and the slow drag of my hand along my short hair. The slower I move, his agitation intensifies, I’ve realized. A small payback for being treated like a bug under a microscope.

“It’s going to be great, isn’t it?” he prompts, the fool. “Just what you wanted.”

Since he won’t let me go unless I respond to his taunting, I nod. He returns it, fixing his glasses on his nose.

“Wonderful. See you in an hour, then.”

See you never.

I turn around and start walking toward the van.

Dick wisely stays behind me as I drag my feet on the gravel. The metal chain connecting my ankle cuffs clinks with every step I make.

What a goddamn joke, believing they can restrain me. My growth spurt at eighteen shocked the hospital’s GP. I’d filled out everywhere while getting taller at an inhuman speed.

At six-foot-five, I’m lean. Broad. What scares them the most is that I never had to put too much effort into it. It’s my body’s way of turning me into a bigger monster.

So much so that I’m sure I could still snap a person’s neck. I haven’t. Yet. The fuckers here have sedatives.

When they shoot them up my arm, I’m rendered useless. Nothing but flesh and bones.

They don’t have a million guards and attendants in the van, though.

It’ll be me against Dick and the driver.

Neither of them will have a chance to get to the syringe.

They’ll come face-to-face with the killer I was born to be.

I proved it before.

A few miles down the road, and I’ll prove it again.

And again.

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