Page 32 of Exposed
My fingers roll over my bundle of nerves, soothing the ache between my legs. Ihatehow my body reacts to this, knowing the potential, knowing it’s wrong to get off on this. He’s the most messed-up person I’ve ever met, and the idea he’s been waiting for me all of these years digs a hole inside of me.
I should be horrified by the prospect he knew I’d return to the asylum, but my brain zeroes in on our eternal ties. He shouldn’t want me, but hedoes.And I shouldn’t want him, but I?—
I—
You don’t know how wrong it is to want me,he had said.
My gut aches, and tendrils of pleasure unfurl between my legs, pushing me toward the highest peak. The acid tube is under my hip, hidden by my ass, ready for me to thrust it into his face, but the idea of doing that seems crazy now. How can I potentially blind and kill him when I don’t have my answers yet? When I don’t know if he is my father? When I don’t know why he would wantme?
My mother is dead and my foster parents kicked me out, but there’s something comforting about the fact my father always wanted me to come back to him eventually. He may be a sick fuck who likes torturing me with his piss and fist, butdamn it,he wants me in his life. He wants to cure me.
And I’m not alone anymore. I have him.
Suddenly, it’s so damn clearwhyhe would write something like that, and I hate myself for not thinking of it sooner.
He wrote the note so I wouldn’t want to hurt him.
And I’m falling for it.
I throw the folder. The papers slide across the floor.
I found the entrance to a tunnel in the corner, but the door inside was locked.
I can’t escape. I have no choice.
There’s only one thing left to do.
“I have to kill him,” I mumble.
I stand and find the shower hose. I try untwisting the metal head. At first, it’s stuck, but eventually, it loosens, and I’m able to pull it off of the hose. It weighs the same as a bowling ball, which is more than enough to do some damage. I put it down in the tub underneath me, and I sit.Killing a mother is enough for any child to want to kill their own father.
But what if he did it for a good reason? What if there’s more to the story?
I scream and scream.
Once my voice is hoarse, I rip my hair and dig my nails into my scalp. I can’t stop these messed-up thoughts from clouding my judgment. He has to die!
The door at the top of the stairs opens. My breathing hitches. A person comes bounding down in a few quick steps. The looming figure comes into view.
Dr. Ambrose is here.
Dr. Ambrose stands in front of the bathtub, smirking down at me. I wrap my arms over my chest. Heat cascades through my blood vessels; his attention warms me as he studies my every move, like I’m an organism under a microscope. A thing he knows he created.
I have to do this,I think.I have to.
I can’t let him live.
I can’t?—
“Your boyfriend will assist you in gathering your essentials for a longer stay at the asylum,” he says.
My boyfriend?
Right. He means Benji.
My mouth goes dry; my throat aches. Why is it disappointing I’ll be leaving Dr. Ambrose, even for a short time?
I’m disappointed because leaving him means I haven’t killed him yet. It’s not about him?—
