Page 19 of Lamb

I didn’t bother arguing with him. I didn’t see the point. We both knew I had as much of a choice as any dog on a leash when its owner came calling.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I prepped my med kit, including a number of sedatives and narcotics I’d formulated myself. I ran my fingers over each of the vials. Any one of which could leave the man in front of me foaming at the mouth within seconds.

I glanced up from my kit and found John staring at me. He’d been doing that more frequently now. Dissecting me with his eyes, when he’d barely ever acknowledge me before. Though I couldn’t figure out if he was more intrigued or disgusted.

He paused a moment, his predatory glare dancing over my face like he was looking for something before he answered, “Briarwood. There’s a patient I’d like you to meet.”

26

ADRIAN

My shoes sent several rocks tumbling forward as I dug my feet into the gravel walkway and peered up at the sign that read:Welcome to Briarwood Sanitorium.

Despite what the metal placard was trying to imply, there was nothing really welcoming about the barred windows or the crumbling angel statues that adorned each of the cornices along the roof. The distant screams I could hear in the background or the manic laughter that harmonized it.

But I had to admit more than a little bout of morbid curiosity had me moving closer again as I followed John past the large wooden double doors and down the first long corridor, our footsteps echoing in time with each other. Like a sinister dance. The swish of my bag so much louder in the quiet of the white-on-white hall while the buzzing of the halogen bulbs spoke to the old wiring hidden behindthe freshly painted walls. A few updates meant to cover up all the ugliness that happened underneath.

It worked, for most people. Not for me. I enjoyed the ugliness. Even more when I had to dig around to find it.

John led me down another long hall, taking a quick left before pushing inside a door to his right. An observation room with a large window fitted with a two-way mirror, a couple of chairs, and an old-fashioned rotary phone. Nothing else.

I looked to John, whose focus was hinged on the other side of the glass, before setting my bag on the counter in front of us. Widening my stance as I crossed my arms over my chest and followed his line of sight to see what had him so entranced his dress slacks were already tenting at the zipper.

There was a girl spread out on the metal table, a thin hospital gown barely covering her tits as a team of doctors and nurses swarmed her like vultures on a carcass. Attaching electrodes and uncrossing wires before stepping back again. I couldn’t hear past the glass that separated us but I could imagine the sound of all the machines, the biting odor of a sterile workspace, and the feel of a pair of latex gloves on my hands.

The girl remained perfectly still, her forehead strapped down to the platform beneath her. Her jaw distended by the cotton bite block and her arms stretched out at her sides. Until the first jolt of electricity sent her muscles dancing against her restraints. The lights flickered and the window rattled in its frame as the attending physiciancranked the ECT machine to the next setting, and the nurse repositioned the electrodes against the girl’s temples.

Twenty minutes later, she was carried out of the room and another patient took her place. Rinse and repeat as the bulge in John’s pants grew as wide as the menacing grin that was spreading across his lips.

We didn’t have that in common. I might have been a killer but even I had standards. I also didn’t get off on watching a bunch of teenagers piss themselves.

27

ADRIAN

Ilooked up from the clipboard in my hands, to the kid in front of me, and back down again at the initials scrawled across the top. KM. No other identifiers. No billing information or social security number. Which told me no one was worried about the coding.

His intake paperwork claimed he was in his early teens but he presented younger than his stated age with white-blonde hair that had been shaved down to his scalp. Pale blue eyes and a slight, malnourished frame. Other than the smirk he was wearing like armor, there was nothing remarkable about this patient. At least from what I could see.

Clearly, John saw differently. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dragged me all the way out here. He wanted something. From me or the kid. Maybe both.

I tilted my head and watched my patient for a few more minutes, never saying a word as he smacked his chewinggum, blowing a bubble as wide as it would go before popping it and starting over. I was sure he was analyzing me as much as I was analyzing him.

“What’s your name?” I decided to start simple. I didn’t need the answer. I just needed to see where it would take me.

“You tell me, Doc.” He grinned. Then again, he never stopped grinning. Not since I walked in here. When I didn’t take the bait, he huffed out a breath. It was no fun when the game was one-sided and it was obvious this kid wanted to play. “You can call me Kaz.”

I nodded once before making a little note on a blank page of the chart. I didn’t have to write it down. It was just a way to keep my hands busy and my attention on something other than the patient who was thirsting for it.

He inched forward, trying to read over the lip of the folder before I tugged it closer to my chest and landed him with a smirk of my own.

“Come on, Doc,” he whined. “Just give me a little peek. You’ll find I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah? What kind of secrets?” I questioned, even though I knew I shouldn’t. But I had to admit I was curious. Because I knew how to keep secrets too. For very different reasons.

“Why don’t you drop your pants and find out?” He lifted a challenging brow and suddenly he looked much older for his age. Trauma did that to you. Though I had to wonder if it was trauma at all. Could just as easily be for shock value.

“No thanks,” I replied as I made another scribble across the blank page. More nonsense. Because whether or not this kid was serious, I wasn’t writing that shit down.

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