Page 34 of The Preachers' Promise
I push them open, and I’m in. As we’d planned, I take a left, looking for the storage closet that also houses the fuse box. I reach a door that has the sign ‘supplies’ attached to the outside of it and use my keycard again to get inside.
Boxes line the walls. They’re mainly cleaning supplies, paper towels, bleach, toiletries. A set of metal shelving holds sheets and clean uniforms that have been laundered. A broom and a mop are stacked in the corner. The fuse box is high on the wall,but I’m tall enough to reach. I flip open the cover and try to work out which one to turn off.
I find the switch for the lights, and flick it off, and then remove the fuse too. It won’t be easy for someone to just turn it back on, and the confusion will buy us some time.
The corridors and several of the rooms are all internal, and windowless, including the one I’m currently in. I’m plunged into darkness, but I use the flashlight app on my phone to light the way again and slip out of the closet.
From somewhere in the building, I hear a cry of annoyance. Someone else—presumably a patient—screams. I didn’t want to freak any of them out, but I can’t help that now. I hope the lack of lighting will get Cain on the other side of these doors, too, but I can’t wait for him. I need to find Ophelia.
A few moments pass, and, with a buzz, emergency red lighting illuminates the corridors. It’s dim, but it means the place is no longer in total darkness. There will be natural light flooding into the reception area and the external rooms that have windows, but that’s all.
I’m still unsure exactly how I’m going to find Ophelia, but I need to start looking. I’m hoping I’ll find her alone, rather than in one of the communal areas, but if there are others with her, I’ll make up some kind of excuse about needing to take her back to her room, as that will probably raise fewer questions. How is she going to react when she sees me? I’m sure she’ll be shocked, but I hope she’ll be sensible enough not to give any big reaction.
A couple of people appear farther down the corridor. I hesitate, unsure if I should hide or brave it out, but then someone speaks to me.
“Get the patients into their rooms, and then we can lock them down,” a man in the same uniform as I’m wearing tells me.
I’m sure I see a few lines appear between his brows in the emergency lighting, possibly confusion as to who I am and whatI’m doing here, but he’s preoccupied with ensuring everyone is where they should be.
“On it.” I keep my head down, waiting for him to shout ‘hey,’ and ask who I am and what the hell I’m doing here, but none comes.
17
OPHELIA
As we are leavingthe group therapy session, filing out the same way we filed in, the lights go out. For a moment, I falter, unable to move in case I fall. My heart thuds, but I try to remain calm. What if it’s him? Oh, God, what if he’s found me?
The meeting hall is in the middle of the building and doesn’t have any windows, so we’re plunged into pitch black. Someone screams, and a flurry of worried voices fills the air.
“It’s just a power cut,” the woman shouts. “Nobody panic. The emergency lights will come on shortly.”
Sure enough, a ghostly red light flickers to life. It’s emitted from spotlights in the baseboards and reminds me of lights on an airplane. Not that I’ve seen them for myself—I’ve never even stepped foot on a plane—but I have seen them in action movies.
A male voice calls from the corridor. “Everyone return to your rooms in an orderly manner.”
I never thought I’d be happy to end up back in that room, but it’s got to be better than group therapy. I still want to close my eyes, despite the upper I’ve taken. The doors set along the corridors all look the same, but I somehow remember the number on my door and let myself in. At least it has a window,albeit barred, which looks out onto the landscaped gardens, so it’s brighter in here.
As the door swings shut behind me, a foot jammed into the gap prevents it from closing completely. It opens again, and Carter appears. I’m too drugged to react fast. The upper my friend gave me means I’m not totally out of it, but my reactions are still too slow. He slips into the room and closes the door behind him, then reaches into the corner of the room to angle the security camera at the ceiling.
Understanding hits me.
I open my mouth to scream but he’s on me in an instant, hooking his arm around my neck, his fingers clamping over my lips. I can taste the salty sweat from his clammy palms.
“Don’t do anything stupid, bitch,” he hisses against my ear, “or this will only end up worse for you. You might be planning to tell someone about me, but whatever you think you’ve experienced can easily be explained away by these paranoid delusions you have.”
Maybe he’s right, but I won’t go down without a fight. I scream against his palm, and struggle in his grip. I hate that I’m so small. I’m barely making any impact.
Was he the one who turned off the lights? Did he do it deliberately, knowing we’d be sent to our rooms and he’d catch me alone while the rest of the staff are distracted?
“Keep struggling. I like it.”
He jams his crotch up against my hip, and I can feel his hardness. Does he plan to rape me here, in the room, with other patients and his colleagues walking around outside? Blind panic surges through me. I can’t let this happen. After everything I’ve gone through, somehow this feels like the worst. I will lose my mind if Carter forces himself inside me. I’ll be ruined, for good this time.
But Carter doesn’t give a shit about how I feel. He knows I’ve been drugged, and I’m basically helpless. He keeps one hand clamped over my mouth and grabs my breast with the other one, squeezing hard. Pain shoots through me.
“Itty bitty titties,” he sneers.
I whimper, my eyes filling with tears. I try to yank out of his grip, but the headlock he has me in makes it impossible. He releases my breast, but my relief only lasts for the briefest of moments. He yanks down the back of my pants—the elastic waistband doing nothing to challenge him—and then fumbles with his own clothing.
