by Abbie Roads
Dr. Payne jammed the needle in Bo’s ass cheek. Mercy sucked in a lungful of air—she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
Two security guards and two male nurses rushed into the room. She moved away from Bo and stumbled back to her chair, collapsing so hard on the metal seat her tailbone rang.
“Transport him to Ward A.” Dr. Payne returned to his place beside her. “I’ll be down to assess him in a few minutes.”
She wanted to cringe away from him, but forced her body to stillness and watched as each member of the security team took an arm or leg and dragged Bo out of the room. He weighed too much to carry.
“We’ll be cutting group short tonight. Everyone fill out your papers, return them to me, and then go to your rooms.”
Dr. Payne passed her a fresh sheet of paper and the pink crayon, her paper and crayon having somehow disappeared in all the commotion. Using her leg for a solid surface, she scribbled the same thing on all three lines.
I’m grateful to be alive.
I’m grateful to be alive.
I’m grateful to be alive.
Without glancing at Dr. Payne, she handed in her paper and crayon and strained to walk from the room, instead of run. Because she wanted to run. She wanted to be far away from Dr. Payne and Ward B and this miserable existence where everything she did was under a microscope.
In her room, she didn’t bother with the overhead fluorescents. She went straight to her barred window and stared out into the night. There were no distant lights dotting the horizon, no stars twinkling in the sky. Nothing to indicate an entire world existed beyond her pane of glass. Just a void—a massive, black nothingness stretching on to infinity. The emptiness, the illusion of being alone, soothed her.
Her door clicked and swung open. She clamped her teeth together and breathed a quiet huff of frustration. Privacy didn’t exist on Ward B. To the staff, privacy equaled delinquency. The wavy image of a person reflected on her window. Liz—the charge nurse—always checked on her after she’d done everyone else. She understood Mercy’s need to experience the only peaceful moments of the day.
“All good here. I’ll get in bed in a few minutes.” Mercy forced lightness into her tone. If she let any irritation or tension leak into her voice, she risked Dr. Payne finding out.
“Mercy—” A man’s voice.
She startled, a jerking of muscle so violent it felt as if she’d been electrocuted. She whirled from the window to face him.
“—I need to make sure Bo didn’t hurt you.”
Her mind rebelled against the message her eyeballs were sending. Dr. Payne stood in her doorway. He never entered a patient’s room. And male staff were not permitted in the rooms of female patients. But here he was and here she was, and this wasn’t going to end well.
Her heart went off like a cannon.
“I’m responsible for you. You’re under my care. I won’t let anyone interfere.” Dr. Payne wore a grin, his deep dimples giving him a look all the women—staff and patients alike—adored.
“I’m fine. No harm done.” There was only a slight tremor in her voice. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. She cleared her throat and aimed for a stronger tone. “Liz knows my routine. She’ll be in to do a check in a few minutes.” Yeah. Remind him that someone might catch him if tried anything. “She’s fine with me being awake as long as I don’t bother anyone else.”
Dr. Payne took a step into the room. “Liz is dealing with Bo.”
Slowly, silently, the door began to fall shut behind him. The light from the hallway pinched off inch by inch until only darkness stood between them. The barely audible click of the latch sent a cold rush of adrenaline through her limbs.
Her internal warning system went off, and she knew—knew in the way of instincts and reflexes and urges, knew with a clarity beyond understanding—what he had planned for tonight. For her. The images flickered through her mind almost like memories, but they were of things to come. Him forcing her facedown over her bed. Him taking what she wouldn’t give. Him making it hurt. Him making her bleed. Him marking her as his.
Fear licked down her spine and bit into her guts, but she refused to cower before him. She wouldn’t be an easy victim. Not her. Never her. Never again. And if he didn’t know that, it just went to prove how much he sucked at his job.
She would handle this. She’d been through worse. She’d survived worse. This time, all she needed to do was get to the hallway where the lights were on and the cameras were rolling and there was always someone at the nurses’ station. Ten feet. That’s all that stood between her and safety.
She walked toward him. Better to be on the offensive instead of being forced to react. She put an extra sway to her hips and prayed he’d be too distracted to realize she was going for the door—not him.
He watched her, that dimpled predatory smile never leaving his lips. Her heart somehow exited her chest, floating up into her head and pounding in her ears. She stopped a mere foot away from him.
Calm. Keep calm. Breathe in slow. Exhale slow. She could freak all she wanted later. But not now. Not when it really mattered.
Slowly, she shifted to his side, a mere two feet from the door. No sudden movements. Not yet. Not until she knew she could grab the handle and get out into the hallway before he stopped her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His words were liquid nitrogen to her blood. She froze.
He turned to face her, moving farther into her space. He wasn’t much taller than she was, his dead eyes and taunting mouth right on the level of hers—only inches away.
Do something. Do anything. Don’t let him touch you. Her mind screamed the words to be heard over her heart thundering in her ears.
With every ounce of force she possessed, she rammed her knee into his knobby knockers.
He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t move. Didn’t react.
Had she missed?
He struck out with his fist so fast she didn’t have a chance to flinch, block, or move. The impact sent a shock wave of agony through her face, the sensation so intense she couldn’t feel the epicenter. She stumbled backward, lost her footing, and landed on her ass. The impact vibrated through every bone in her body like a plucked violin string.
Dr. Payne bent double, cupping his pulverized parts. He shuffle-walked the one step to her, drew back his foot, and slammed it into her ribs. Air whoofed out of her. She collapsed back, rolling and writhing to escape the fire in her side.
How long she lay there, she didn’t know. But suddenly, Dr. Payne’s face was in her line of sight, and his intentions were in her head. Her mind flashed through images of the stark walls of Ward A, of herself drugged beyond awareness, of Dr. Payne amusing himself with her mind and body.
She tried to move toward the door, but her body wasn’t able to comply. She was lost in an inferno of pain.
Dr. Payne ruffled his hands through his hair, making it messy. He pulled at his perfectly tucked-in shirt, making it sloppy, then knelt down next to her.
She scooted away from him, but he grabbed her hand, forced her fingers open, gripping her middle finger in his fist. Was this some new form of torture? He yanked her finger to his face, jammed the nail against his cheek, then scraped it down over his skin, leaving a red trough of blood. He slammed her hand against the floor, but she had reached a familiar place. A numb place. A place where physical pain no longer hurt her. He could slit her throat like Killion had, and she wouldn’t feel it.
He stood and hit the panic button, then pulled another syringe from his pocket.
“You were the reason Bo acted out tonight. You stormed off from group without completing your assignment. I came here to check on you. You attacked me. You called me Killion. You’ve had a break from reality.”
The whimpers and whines of a wounded animal filled the room. The sound came from her, and no matter how hard she tr
ied to shush herself, something deep inside had broken and wouldn’t be soothed.
He raised the syringe over his head and slammed it down with all the force of a large hunting knife, stabbing her in the thigh. She watched as the clear fluid emptied into her body.
“I think it’s time we stepped up your treatment. ECT should help. I’ll plug you in a couple times. See how you behave toward me then.”
A wave crashed over her, but it wasn’t a wave, it was her body. No, it wasn’t her body moving, it was the drug hitting her system, pounding its way to her mind. The world went gray. She fought to stay on the surface, to not let the sedative pull her under, but the world went dark and she drowned under the drug’s effect.
For more Abbie Roads
check out the Fatal Truth series
Saving Mercy
On sale now!
Acknowledgments
My first and last thank-you always belongs to Dan. Without your unconditional love and support, I wouldn’t have had the courage to keep riding this crazy roller coaster called Being a Writer. Your steady presence and encouragement are the roots from which I continue to grow. Thank you for loving me.
All the thank-yous in between belong to Brinda Berry. I owe you so much. You’re a mentor. A friend. A critique partner. You’re the first person who reads my stories, and you always keep me from looking stupid! That in itself is priceless! Thank you for just being fabulous you!
And my final thank-you belongs to my darling readers. Each and every one of you who read my books matter to me. That you devoted time from your life to read my story warms my heart and makes me smile. Thank you times a million.
About the Author
Abbie Roads is a mental health counselor known for her blunt, honest style of therapy. By night, she writes dark, emotional novels, always giving her characters the happy ending she wishes for all her clients. Her novels have been finalists in RWA contests, including the Golden Heart. Sign up for Abbie Roads’s newsletter for fun book news and giveaways!
Also by Abbie Roads
Fatal Dreams
Race the Darkness
Hunt the Dawn
Fatal Truth
Saving Mercy
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