He hands me back the bottle of water, the plastic crunching in his hand. “Finish this.”
Knowing that he’s had at least half of the water, I feel a little better about finishing it up. The coolness of the liquid running down the inside of body feels good against the ache and heat, giving me a false sense of energy to push forward. “Well, let’s get going then.”
Trudging uphill for the ten minutes Sin assumed it would take, we come up on an empty field surrounding a tall, brick building. The edifice is breaking apart, and it looks like every other window is either broken or missing. “This is the hospital?”
His eyes widen with a snide smirk. “Yeah, pretty special, huh?” He moves on ahead of me and I follow. “This is where I lived before—”
“You escaped.” I’m not sure it looks like it was hard to escape from. I turn around, looking behind us at where we came from, and I can see everything below us: the pit, the sheds, and the trees.
“Exactly.” Approaching the black, metal door, he places his hand around the handle. “Look I know you’re sick of me bossing you around and shit, but do me a favor, don’t make eye contact with anyone in here. And don’t talk to anyone.” I didn’t really need the warning this time after what happened with JJ because there is no part of me that wanted to talk to another person right now.
“Sin?”
He turns to face me, the color on his face even less than the last time he looked at me. “Yeah?”
“If you escaped, won’t they recognize you now that you’re back?”
He laughs softly and nods his head. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Sin?”
“Why are all of these people here in this town?” I have asked this now several times, and he has yet to answer me.
He releases his hand from the door and grinds his jaw back and forth for a quick second. “I wanted to conceal the reality of our situation for as long as I could, and that is why I haven’t given you an answer to this question. But, I regretted this decision when I went looking for you after the pit fight. You should know.”
“So you’re going to tell me now then.” Please, just tell me.
He looks down as if he’s gathering the right words to describe whatever is going on in his head. “I take it you’ve heard of Applebrook?”
“Of course, that’s where my mom used to work.” The hospital for the criminally insane. Mom wanted to make a difference with those who chose the wrong path in life. That is who she is—was. Always trying to do good for those who couldn’t do it for themselves. I never questioned why she chose the career she chose. It always made sense. She changed lives and that made her happy, which was good since I can guess that she hasn’t felt much happiness in the past three years I’ve been gone.
“Yeah, I know. Well, as you’re probably aware, Applebrook is run by the state, and the state has strict laws. And of course, when laws are broken, secrets develop. Jackson Crownwell—”
“That was my mother’s boss. I met him a few times.” He was a quiet man, but he didn’t need to use words to get his message across. He was one of those people you were immediately intimidated by. He held this kind of power with just the way he carried himself. His hands were always folded in front of him, hanging below his waist, and I remember his eyebrows being slicked in a straight line. For some reason, that always stuck out to me. It made his face always look angry. His shoes clicked loudly when he walked down the halls, and he smelled like expensive cologne. People waited on him hand and foot and no one would blink in his presence. Although, as strange as I find it, Mom never seemed afraid of him.
“Yes, Jackson Crownwell is a crook with a very large gambling problem. He takes the state’s money and rather than investing it into the hospital as he should, he uses it for personal gain. Because of this, the patients at Applebrook don’t receive the proper treatment—medication or professional help. Patients aren’t moving through the system because of this, which has caused a population overfill situation.”
I’m looking at Sin with confusion, but strangely I understand it all and I even think I know where he’s going with this, which causes a large pit to form in my stomach. “So, Chipley is—”
“Chipley is the overfill for Applebrook. The people in this town are those who were not well enough to move on from Applebrook. This town is made up of two-hundred untreated, criminally insane prisoners. And us.”
My head spins with understanding, with fear, and anxiety. I’m essentially locked in an open forum prison with some of the most dangerous people in this state. And Sin. What about Sin?
“You were in Applebrook,” I say, looking for confirmation I don’t need. I saw him there when he was being taken away.
“Yes,” he says, opening the door to the hospital. “Follow me.”
I suddenly don’t want to follow him into this building, but he needs care. “Why is there a hospital here too?” I ask, afraid to know how much worse this can get.
He stops with one foot inside of this dimly light, empty room. “Because some of us are meant to rot to death. Some of us don’t get the opportunity to fight for our life. Instead, we’re supposed to die slowly, alone, repenting every sin we’ve committed. We don’t deserve a quick death. We deserve torture. Unless of course, you find a way out.”
“Are there guards?” I ask, now walking through the musky foyer.
He laughs. “No. There are caretakers who deliver our rations, but they only appear when lights are out and when everyone is allegedly secure.” This is a nightmare. A real life nightmare. “And no, you are not safe walking in here.”
I am not safe anywhere. “Just bring me to medical supplies. Quickly.” He laughs again. Why is this funny? How is this amusing? The hallways are lit by faint, hanging lights, and there are whispering conversations filtering through the air. I don’t see anyone, but we walk past barred walls, locking in a kind of darkness I can’t see through. “Is everyone locked up?”
“Supposed to be.”
The farther we walk, the more constricting the air feels. The scent of mold, mildew, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on is so pungent it’s sickening. “Hey baby,” a voice yells. “Are you my last meal?” Instinctively, I look toward the voice, only to see hands gripped around a set of bars we’re passing.
Sin’s hand grips tightly around my arm as he pulls me down the hall at a faster pace until we push through a door on the right. “The medical supply closet is downstairs.”
Walking down these stairs feels like I’m walking into a dark basement with no lighting—what I thought was everyone’s worst fear. Turns out, I’m guessing this might be everyone’s worst fear. We walk through another door at the bottom of the stairs and into an unlit hall. “You know where you’re going?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t answer.
I can hardly see Sin in front of me even though he’s holding on to me, which means I slam into his back when he stops short. “Right here.” He opens another door and pulls us in. I can feel the constricting walls around us. We’re in a tight spot. Sin moves around me and shoves a handful of materials into my chest. “Hold this.” I hear him rustling with something else and then he pulls me back out. “This should be enough to fix my head.”
“Got it,” I whisper.
“Reese,” he says.
“Yes?” his lips press against mine firmly, breathtakingly. His hand loops around my back and pulls me into his hard body. I can hardly focus on his warm touch flirting with the skin over the small of my back because the taste of his lips are incredibly overpowering and mind altering, almost making me forget we’re standing in the middle of a dark closet, in the basement of an abandoned hospital for the criminally insane. Almost making me forget how screwed we are.
“Sorry,” he breathes. “I needed to touch your lips again. You quench my hunger and numb the pain. You may be stubborn and crazy, but you care about me. And I care a hell of a lot about you. Don’t forget that.” I won’t forget, and I won’t be able to r
emember anything else. “We need to get out of here.”
Back up the stairs and through the hall with the cells, I feel a sense of relief, knowing the door to the outside is close.
Was close.
A cell door flies open in front of us and there isn’t more than a blinking second between the time of comprehension and the time it took for me to be shoved into the cell. The metal bars slam shut, locking me. “Sin!”
I hear nothing. I see nothing.
It’s dark.
I need the light.
11
Chapter Eleven
SIN
I knew this was a bad idea. Shit. I’m dragging this guy out while getting blows to face and chest. Trying my hardest to focus through this relentless dizziness I’ve been experiencing, I swing the guy into the last set of bars, forcing his head against the metal. Adrenaline finally kicks in and I shove him over and over again. I kick him in the gut, forcing him to the ground. With my boot pressed against his neck, I wait for the struggle to stop. Screw this guy and his timely death; I’m killing the bastard now.
Reese’s whispering voice echoes through the hall and I wish she would keep quiet for the moment. I don’t want to stir up more of the prisoners. While most of the cell doors are locked shut, there are a few of us who have learned methods of escape. Clearly, this dickwad was one of them. But so was I.
The guy hasn’t moved in over sixty seconds and I lean down to feel for a pulse. Nothing. I give him one more kick just for the shit he said to Reese on the way in. “Hey, help me out of here, man!” A voice booms from one of the nearby cells.
“Yeah, me too. How the hell did you get out?” another one shouts.
Both of the men lean up against their respective bars, both of them I recognize since we were in Applebrook together.
Kelter, the asshole in the nearest cell, murdered his wife with a butcher knife because she wouldn’t stop singing some stupid song. I guess she was up early one morning making him breakfast or something while singing that song. Evidently, something snapped in Kelter’s head. He grabbed the knife and stabbed her forty-eight times. He told me he can’t recall wanting to kill her, and he doesn’t even remember stabbing her, but the evidence was there. He pleaded insanity and now he’s here with us. Bottom line, I ain’t helping this guy out.
I walk back toward the cell I threw Reese into, noticing she’s quieted down. Maybe she heard the scuffle. Little miss tough girl probably isn’t feeling so tough right now I take it. Both guys continue to yell for me to help them as I find Reese’s cell. I swing the door open and walk in, feeling around for where she is. I can’t see past four feet from the entrance because we’re not gifted with the grace of light in here. It’s supposed to be a form of torture, and it is. “Reese?”
I hear her move around until I feel her hand around my arm. She doesn’t say anything, and that’s a good thing. We need to get the hell out of here without stirring up any more trouble. As we’re halfway down the hall, another wave of nausea overwhelms me. Dammit, this has to stop. I suck in a slow, deep breath, willing away the urge to vomit. It passes quickly this time and I finally reach the main door. I kick it open and drag the still quiet Reese outdoors into the overwhelmingly bright sunlight.
Pulling her away from the building and down the slight decline to a flatter area, I turn her to face me. “You okay?” Her doe-like stare oozes with fear. With everything we’ve been through so far, it hasn’t once made her quit yapping. Something’s stirring in her eyes this time though. “Reese, say something.” She’s still clutching the medical supplies in her hand, but her eyes don’t blink when I urge her to talk. Shit. “Reese, baby.” Baby? What the hell has this chick done to me? I’m screwed.
“I don’t like the dark,” she whispers. “I just need light.”
“We’re outside now. You have light, and it’s bright as hell out.”
“I don’t like the dark,” she says again.
I kneel down before her, pulling her down with me. “I need you to snap out of it now. You’re not being locked back up. We’re outside and it’s light out. You’re okay.” We’re definitely not okay. “Look at me, Reese.” She’s doing her best to avoid eye contact, keeping her gaze locked on the dirt below us.
“I can’t do this,” she says softly. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
“Screw that. You’re strong as hell. You’ve saved my ass and you nearly killed the biggest asshole on this compound. Don’t you for one second think you aren’t strong enough to survive this hell.” This weakness I’m seeing in her right now is killing me a little. I knew what she had been hiding. She’s damn good at putting on a front. She makes it easy to forget she had been locked up in a dark shed for three years, but I know it screwed with her head, and it isn’t something anyone could just come back from in a couple of days. I’m well aware I’ve been insensitive as hell with her, but she needs to be tough to survive this, or we’re both going down.
“Where is that strong, feisty girl I’ve come to know? What do I have to do to bring her back? That girl, she’s a goddamn survivor.” She finally glances back up at me and her focus is directly on my eyes this time, rather than staring right through me.
“I’m scared, and I want to go home. I don’t know who I am—whether that’s strong or weak. I just want this nightmare to end.”
“So do I, and we’re going to make that happen, but I need you to focus.” Another surge of weakness takes me down again. It’s like waves of heaviness washing through me, making my head feel like it’s a lead balloon. I fall back and bring my knees into my chest so I can rest my head for a minute.
“Sin?” she says. “I need to fix your head now.”
“Not here,” I tell her. “We need to get back to the tree line so we’re not out in the open.” She offers me her hand as if she’s strong enough to lift me up. Giving into her sentiment, I take her hand and stand up alongside her. “This way.” Sweat is dripping down the back of my neck and the pain in my head is growing by the second. “Do you have those painkillers I gave you?”
She fumbles through the stuff in her hands and hands me a small, white packet. I rip it open and toss the contents into my mouth, struggling to swallow it with how dry my throat is.
As we approach the tree line, I lead her through a dozen rows of trees before I drop down against one. The sun is starting to set and there’s a thick haze creeping in. “Turn around,” she says.
“Have you used a needle and thread before?” I ask her. Not that I even care at this point. I just need the bleeding to stop.
“My mother’s a nurse, remember? She’s stitched me up a few times. I’ll be careful.” She rips apart an alcohol swab and cleans her hands with it. Then opens another package and cleans the wound on my head. I grit my teeth, holding in the obscenities fighting their way out.
Goddamn.
What I wouldn’t give for a beer right now. I’ve forgotten what it even tastes like. It’s been four years since I illegally enjoyed the cool, amber liquid. I sat inside of that rotting cell during my twenty-first birthday, and now at twenty-two, it looks like I may never get to enjoy a legal drink. That should be the last thing I’m worried about right now, but if I think of anything else, I’m going to feel the damn needle piercing through my flesh. What else can I focus on? Ugh, this sucks. Her hands—they’re cool and soft and I want to feel them on other parts of me. I shouldn’t be thinking this either, but the hell with it. “Almost done,” she says. My heart is pounding in my head and the pain is incredible, even worse now than before she started. “You’re a good patient. She takes the alcohol swab and cleans up the base of my neck, where I assume blood has pooled. “You’re all set. Good as new.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding in and spin around to face her, watching as she cleans up the mess. Her hair is falling loosely over her face and her skin is a dark pink from the sun. Freckles have covered her skin over the past day, and now she kind of looks like a deserted island girl. “Yo
u’re beautiful,” I tell her.
She looks up at me with shock; her eyes appear to be questioning what I just said. But it’s true. She is. “Thank you,” she says, sounding a bit breathless.
“It’s almost dark, we should find shelter. The basement is probably the safest.”
“Are you going to be able to walk that far?”
“We don’t have a choice,” I tell her. We don’t. Staying out here after dark is a bigger nightmare than staying out here during the day.
With the remainder of the medical supplies in her hand, she stands up and spins around like she’s looking for something. “Which way do we go?”
I nod my head to the left. “This way.” We walk silently for most of the way, but she keeps looking over at me like she either wants to ask me something or find out if I’m okay. Probably both. The questions are endless with her.
“Do you think your dad is still alive?” she finally asks. “I mean, I didn’t see a body near the flattened shed when we walked by, so I’m guessing he’s still alive.”
“Yeah, I think he is. He stays inside on food drop day, so he may very well be home.”
“Home?” she asks.
“The house adjacent to the basement. That’s where he lives.”
“But you said he wouldn’t go down into the basement. If it’s part of his house, than—”
“He won’t go down into the basement,” I tell her sternly.
She looks forward. Her questioning ends, which makes me believe she’s learning when to stop. That’s a good thing. “I have one more question,” she says quietly. Or maybe she doesn’t know when to stop. “Do you know why your dad took me?”
I close my eyes and stop mid-step. I would want to know this too. I take her hand and pull her in front of me. “I honestly don’t know why he took you. I fought him for that information before the tornado hit. I didn’t even know there was anyone living in the shed until I heard a noise while walking by. I saw you in there through a crack and immediately interrogated my dad.” I hate the look on her face. Disappointment. She must feel like a rat in a maze with no way out. “The only information he told me was that it was your birthday and your name is Reese. When I saw you up close that day it was when I recognized you from Applebrook. You were the last outside person I saw before I was taken here. I hate to think I’m part of the reason he took you, but it doesn’t make sense. I don’t have any better answer for you.”
Locked In (No Way Out Series Book 1) Page 6