Page 28 of Exile
"Fuck," I hiss quietly. "It's really happening, isn't it? Did the four missing patients sign the consent forms?"
"I don't know," Grey admits. "Perhaps Christopher knows."
I jump off the table, flattening my shorts back into place. "Then we need to find out. Who wants to pay a visit to Dr. Smith?"
At the end of free time, I'm paired up with a short, wide guard who looks no more than twenty-one. Even though he's clearly new, he doesn't harbor any nerves about his position, staying quiet as he leads me toward the Eastwood wing.
But as we near my room door, he grabs my arm, yanking me further down the corridor.
"My room is there," I point out, pulling my elbow to loosen his tight grip.
"You have a meeting," comes a gruff reply.
There's nothing I can do but be practically dragged further down, zigzagging until we reach the end door—and I know who this meeting is with.
Whitface is standing waiting for us, his office door open as we cross the foyer. Nerves fly through me as the cell phone suddenly feels heavy in my pocket. I can't let him take it away. It's our lifeline to Damon and each other.
If I had known what was coming, I would have called or texted Grey and Theo, but I'm stuck now, only able to hope that Jillian will see me entering his office on the live camera feed.
"Ms. White," Whittingham greets coldly. "Marriage becomes you."
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
"What is this about?" I force out, keeping my cool despite my insides turning to liquid.
He sits down casually, tilting his chair back while affixing his gaze on me. The guard stays close by, lingering too close for comfort as I wait for answers.
Finally, a sly smile breaks across Whittingham's face. "We've just been notified that your husband will be returning to Lilydale tomorrow under the order and care of Dr. Markel."
I try to contain my relief and excitement, face expressionless as I stay silent. There's more coming… there always is. He's building up to something and whatever it is, it can't be good.
"Take a seat," he gestures to the spare chair in front of him. I don't get a choice in the matter, the guard hastily gripping my arm and dragging me to the spot. I'm thrown into the chair, hands reaching out to the desk to steady myself as the legs tip and threaten to spill over.
"What do you want?" I ask more firmly. "Just hurry up and come out with it."
His murky eyes narrow on me, unamused by my attitude, but alas, he continues. "The Lilydale board is prepared to offer you a deal."
"You mean Alexander," I scoff.
"Your freedom," Whittingham states, ignoring my comment. "In exchange for an annulment."
Chapter 11
Grey
Christopher doesn't appear surprised to see me when I darken his proverbial doorstep. But he does shoot me an annoyed glance, eyes darting to the patient across from him.
"I'm happy to wait," I say casually, leaning against the doorframe. "Bit late in the day for professional appointments, isn't it?"
To be fair, it's not all that much of a shock. After the latest events, the staff will be run off their feetconsolingpatients. At least, that's what they will be telling themselves.
The meek woman in the guest chair jumps at the sight of me, her timid frame almost curling into itself. She has nothing to fear or worry about though. I know all about Charity Williams. Nothing more than the usualcharitycase that is sent to Lilydale, she's been here for nearly a year. Like Avery, Charity suffered a lot of abuse by parental figures until one day she snapped, blowing someone's head off in the middle of the street.
But unlike my little killer, this victim of society is just apprehensive in general. There's no spark or fire that harbors like it does within Avery. No anger or need to prove herself.She's just, by medical standards, introverted andbrokenin their eyes for lack of a better word.
There's nothing wrong with being seen as broken. I love being underestimated, and if Dr. Smith is worth his paycheck, he'll be able to make her see that—learn her worth. As with most patients here, Charity is too lost to the system, eaten alive by guilt and stuck in a cycle that no one is trying to help pull her from. They don't believe anything anyone says about them being good, but she will believe that I'm the danger that everyone warns about.
"You know as well as I do why we're still hosting sessions this late in the afternoon," Christopher mutters firmly. "Wait outside. I'll be finished in ten minutes."
