Page 4 of Exposed
The driver’s door opens, and a man with broad shoulders and a thin, toned frame stands up. A long, gray ponytail is at the base of his neck, and his lab coat is smudged with dirt.
Dr. Ambrose.
I lurch back as my brows furrow. “Why is he covered in dirt? Did he just come from his part-time greenhouse job or something?”
Benji’s nostrils flare. “I don’t think he’s that kind of person, but who knows. The guy is weird.”
As the doctor heads toward the asylum, he glances at our car. We lock eyes.
He winks.
My throat contracts, and bile rises in my esophagus.
He disappears into the building.
“He’s not a gardener.” I shrink down in my seat. “He would probably rather torture plants to death.”
Or torture me.
“Probably,” Benji says.
Sourness coats the back of my tongue. I swallow it, but it’s like a wad of blood-soaked gauze is lodged under my uvula. I hate that I keep thinking about being tormented by Dr. Ambrose like he’s some angry, all-powerful god,when in reality, he’s just an abusive man in a position of power.
A man who deserves to die.
I haven’t told Benji this, but there’s a strong possibility Dr. Ambrose is my biological father. I’ve read my mother’s stolen records; she became pregnant after she began treatment at the Wellard Asylum, so my father is probably here orwashere. A patient. A guard. A nurse. A doctor. To be honest, I’ll take any father, as long as it’snotDr. Ambrose.
If heismy father, then he didn’t just kill my mother; he also abandoned me. Not because he died. Not because of any righteous reason. But because hewantedto.
And that’s another reason to kill him.
I don’t have any confirmation about my blood parentage. It’s easy for Benji to steal a file; it’s a little more difficult to get a blood sample.
Then again, Benji said Dr. Ambrose demanded I go to the town’s clinic to get my blood drawn. Maybe Dr. Ambrose was testing our biological relations for himself.
I sigh. I don’t want to know if Dr. Ambrose is my father. He’s my enemy. Nothing more.
“Did the doctor mention the results of my blood tests?” I ask Benji.
“He said he’d notify me if something came up. No news is good news, right?” He scratches his head. “It probably would have been better if hedidfind something.”
Then I wouldn’t have to be here.
I soften my brows, and Benji grabs my hand. Though he’s been supportive of me getting closure, he hates the asylum.
But I’m choosing to be here.
He smiles, and there’s a faint sadness underneath it.Even if—I mean, evenwhen—I kill Dr. Ambrose, there’s a chance I could be hurtorend up in jail. Benji obviously doesn’t want either of those things to happen.
A twinge of guilt slithers in my chest. Benji is a good man with a big heart, and he treats me with respect. He hasn’t left me, and that should be enough for me.
But before I can accept his love, I need to love myself, and the only way I can do that is by killing Dr. Ambrose. Because if I don’t do this, I won’t be able to live with myself.
“If I can’t change your mind,” he says quietly, “then we need to get through security now. Our appointment starts soon.”
“You won’t leave me after this, right?” I whisper, my voice quivering. I hate how pathetic I sound. I wiggle my shoulders and strengthen my tone. “You’re not going to ditch me and wimp out, right?”
“Absolutely not,” Benji says. “I’ll be here.”
