Page 109 of Brainwashed
Felix Darcey is just that. And aberration.One in a Million.
My heart rate is pumping in my ears while I consider his words. He thinks I’mlikehim… Sick and perverse, because of my deep-seated fascination with the macabre. My severe morbid obsession with depravity.
He could have a point.
But still, I’m on this side of the fence. Even with the corrupted genes in my family, I turned out better. Stronger.
I’m not like him… Not like either of them.
And I’m no victim.
The sounds of my breathing are becoming louder and louder, bounding mercilessly off every inner surface of my brain. Suddenly I can’t feel my hands. They’re numb, and my wrists are sore from being bound too tightly.
There’s something around my neck.
I can’t breathe.
My eyes are open, but I can’t see, and the object around my neck is getting tighter and tighter.
He’s pressed up against me from behind. I can feel every inch of him, and it makes me retch.
Fight it, I scream at myself.Fight, push, overcome!
Don’t let him win.
I slow down with my head wobbling and grasp at my throat, desperately clawing and trying to free myself. But nothing is there. I’mfree, but I can still feel it.
“Fuck…” I huff, leaning up against something while trying to catch my breath.
Bending at the waist, I close my eyes tight and focus on pulling oxygen into my lungs.
You’re right here, Lem. You’re free. He didn’t get you, and he never will.
After a few minutes, my heart rate slows, and the pressure in my head subsides. Straightening up, I glance around and find myself standing by a shabby old structure. I remember seeing this on the map of Alabaster Isle. It used to be an armory until it began crumbling—literally. And apparently Manuel Blanco didn’t feel that restoring it was a good use of his funding, so they moved all the weapons into the prison and called it a day.
I wander over to the rickety door. It’s locked up with a padlock. Looking around the forest area I’m standing in, I also see the guard tower nearby. Another structure that apparently has no use anymore.
At dinner, Manuel briefly mentioned their funding issues.
“Governor Russo gets his panties in a bunch from time to time,”he’d said while swirling his fork around in his paella.“Our financial situation used to be much more… bountiful. But lately it’s all politics and board seats and blah blah blah. None of it interests me. I will get what I require through my own means, if necessary, but I do need to play nice with the big boys. Which is why no one can ever know that Dascha Reznikov is no longer within the walls of Alabaster Pen…”
I try to mind my sneakers in the mud, noticing what looks like tracks of some kind. It’s only one set of wheels, so they must be from a motorcycle. Trudging along a beaten path toward the prison, I observe its exterior. Crumbling stone, streaks of black… The framework has obviously seen better days.
You’d think the upkeep of this facility would be the Warden’s top priority…
I suppose he has other things on his mind.
I’m not even sure why, but something draws me to keep walking. I know I should just go home—back to the mansion. Take a hot shower and get some rest.
But I can’t seem to stop my body from bringing me back to this prison. This grim shroud of despair and suffering, the home of torture, longing, and infinite time.
It calls to me, on some deep level I don’t understand.
When I reach the prison’s exterior, I stop in front of what looks like a sewer drain. There are old, rusted bars covering it, but they’re snapped in half and torn apart. I blink at the space for a few moments, wondering if this is where Felix’s friend Dash escaped.
I didn’t know Dash… I’d never met him before, but I saw his file. I’ve read the files on every single guard and inmate Alabaster Penitentiary has ever seen. He was just another troubled young man. Someone I would have treated, like Trevel.
And now he’s an escaped fugitive.
