Page 102 of Brainwashed
“Use your t-shirt to clean yourself up,” he commands firmly. “I’ll have a new one brought to you.”
“D-do I get to sleep in here again?” I ask quietly.With you…?
“You’re going back to your cell,” he says, then picks up his phone from the table and stalks over to his desk.
Oh, shit… I forgot that was recording. Jesus Christ, now they have two different recordings of me having orgasms. What if they sell them??
Not like it matters.
Sitting up slowly, I tug my t-shirt over my head and use it to wipe the cum off myself.
“I’m—”
“Hungry. Yea, I assumed you’d say that.” He finishes my thought before I can even get it out. “I’ll have them bring you lunch as well.”
The air in the room is heavy with some sort of awkward tension, but it seems like it’s only coming from me. I wish I could channel my inner Carver right now, but I’m feeling like nothing but Felix Darcey.
The lonely, invisible loser.
Standing up on wobbly legs, I toss my dirty t-shirt on the floor. Dr. Love’s eyes spring up to mine. “I hope you got what you wanted.”
They narrow. “More or less.”
There’s so much I want to say, but I’m conflicted. I can’t tell if I want to scream in his face or cling to him and never let go. I want to know more about him, because now this is all feeling so very one-sided.
He claims he’s not like Johansson and Templeton, but he’s exactly the same. Here simply to stick me in a glass jar and poke me like a test subject. Then stuff me back into my box.
I’m not important to him. I’m just a case. A number.
Another serial killer statistic.
My lips part to say some of these things, but a knock at the door signals the guard is here to bring me back. Officer Peters shuffles in, looking stressed, and without a word, shackles my ankles and cuffs my wrists.
He drags me out of Dr. Love’s office, and even though I can’t stop staring at the man who just flipped me upside down, he doesn’t look at me once.
I’m leaving the prison when my phone rings.
It takes me a moment to zone back in on reality and pull it out of my pocket. I have no numbers saved into this thing, but I recognize it as Manuel Blanco’s assistant, Yari’s number.
“Lemuel Love,” I answer, walking the short path from the side exit to the black SUV that’s waiting to drive me back to the mansion.
“Doctor! Good evening.” Yari’s pleasant voice comes over the receiver and it grates my nerves for some reason.What’s there to be enthusiastic about, anyway?“I have an invitation for you.”
I stop walking. “Invitation…?”
“Yes, sir. The Ivory would like you to join him for dinner tonight. A bit overdue,” he adds, chuckling, “But nonetheless.”
I’m frozen, sort of just staring at the back of the SUV parked and running a few feet in front of me. I don’t know that I want to have dinner with The Ivory… especially after what I did with Felix.
Giving him the keys, I mean.
Velle’s words ring in my head.You’re the Warden’s problem now…
I’ve been dreading running into Manuel Blanco for the last three days, since Felix caused a ruckus because of my experiment. As far as my job goes—the job he hired me to do—I’m not worried. But with what I know about Manuel Blanco from my limited research, it seems like his response could go in many different directions.
Unpredictable makes me nervous.
“Doctor?” Yari chirps in my ear and I shake myself out of it.
