Page 43 of Brainwashed
Of course it doesn’t.
I’m exhausted from keeping my eyes open all night when I hear more noises. The lights are on now, but I don’t know if they just came on or if they’ve been on for a while. Clearly, I wasn’t paying attention.
Keys clink in the doors, inmates being moved around. As usual, there’s really no rhyme or reason to any of it. Sometimes we’re fed inside these cells, sometimes we’re brought elsewhere. Today, I’m graced with none other than Alabaster Pen’s own resident HBIC, Joy Jameson.
She stomps inside my cell in her combat boots, ponytail swaying as she nods at me. “Morning, killer bee. Up against the wall if you know what’s good for you.”
I can’t help but grin. She’s so surly, but unlike Velle, on her it’s oddly charming. I walk up to the wall, face-first, and she comes up behind me, releasing me from my straitjacket. I take the opportunity to shake out my arms and get some feeling back into my fingers.
Joy brings me a container of scrambled eggs and microwaved bacon, handing it to me with her left while her right stays on her Glock. “Eat up. You’ve got the new doctor next.”
I pause with my fork in the air, gaping at her. “Really? Already?”
“What were you waiting for, a Save the Date?” Joy scoffs. “He’s here for you.”
Here for me…
My stomach tumbles while I force down my breakfast, now obsessing over the fact that I’ll be seeing the doctor again. I’m nervous… But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also excited.
I wonder what we’ll talk about… If we even talk at all.
As I’m shoveling my last bite into my mouth, Joy snatches the container away, closing it up, and tossing it outside the door. Then she comes back to me with cuffs and shackles, chaining me up and bringing me to the downstairs showers. There she lets me brush my teeth and take a quick one.
Honestly, I think I might be the only inmate who gets to call the shots this way. There’s even a little Felix cubby in the corner where they keep my extra stuff. No one else gets this kind of treatment, and I have to admit, it makes me feel pretty special.
I enjoy being a high-profile inmate. Even if it makes me a target for strange doctors.
It’s better than rotting in solitary.
When I’m done down here, Joy drags me back toward the corridor Velle brought me to yesterday. She knocks on the office door only once, not waiting for a response, before flinging the door open and shoving me inside.
I’m immediately fidgeting in place when I see him… My doctor. He’s sitting at his desk with his nose buried in that same file from yesterday. He doesn’t regard either of us while Joy removes my shackles.
“I’ll be back in forty minutes,” she says on her way out. “Call if you need anything.”
“Officer,” the doctor’s voice rings to stop her, only one word somehow sounding like the roar of a jungle cat. A chill sweeps up the back of my neck as his eyes lift from the file to Joy. “Remove the cuffs.”
Joy squints at him with her hip popped. “That’s not part of the protocol.”
The doctor glares at her in silence for five heavy seconds before rumbling, “I already had this conversation with Officer Chevelle yesterday. I’m conducting my work. If the two of you are insistent on disrupting me, I’ll be forced to call the Warden.”
My eyes flit back and forth between the two of them while their stubborn glares remain locked in a show of power. I can’t help gulping at the tension. It feels like the entire room could implode at any moment.
But eventually, Joy sighs out of obvious irritation and removes my handcuffs, spinning out of the room and slamming the door behind her. I’m left standing, sort of fluttering by the entrance of the room, unchained and unstrapped. My fingers wiggle on their own at my sides while I look around.
It’s not a particularly large office or anything, but still, I feela sense of freedom. No straitjacket, no cuffs, no shackles, no padded cell. I’m just standing here, arms swaying. If I wanted to, I could walk over to that bookshelf and pick up a book.
Glancing at the doctor, I find him watching me, that analytical look he had on yesterday decorating his features. And suddenly, Ireallywant to know what he’ll do if I try touching something. So I take small, tentative steps toward his bookshelf. And he just watches me all the while.
Wandering over, I stop in front of it, peeking at him over my shoulder. He’s still just staring.So I reach out and brush my fingers over the spines of the books.
It feels like I’m doing something forbidden. A tingle zips through me.
Picking up a book, I touch the cover gently, reading the title to myself. It’s a behavioral studies textbook. I flick the pages slowly, peering at the doctor once more. He sits back casually in his chair, folding his arms over his chest while he watches me.
My tongue swipes my lower lip as I put the book back and go for another. This one is about the American serial killer.
Squeezing the book between my fingers, I twirl to face him. “Have you read all of these?”
