Page 5

FIVE

ROSALIE

“ R ing around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”

Daisy giggled as she gripped my hands, allowing me to turn her in a circle as we moved across the backyard. Her blonde hair flew behind her, getting caught in the wind as we spun. The song echoed around us and I laughed, warmed by how much she enjoyed this.

But then…the sun fell, replaced by the moon. When I turned away from it, confusion burrowing deep inside me, Daisy’s white dress was covered in blood, a gash across her throat as she stood, staring at me with betrayal dancing within them.

“You did this, Rosie,” she accused. “Why did you hurt me?”

Panic pierced through my chest, and I stumbled backwards, glancing down at my hands that were now covered in blood, too. In my palm sat the knife I’d used, fear skittering along my veins.

“I..I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

Daisy tilted her head to the side. “Are you sure about that?” Her voice got caught on the wind and the breeze blew it around me, her voice echoing on repeat.

I cupped my hands over my ears, tears streaming down my face. “It was an accident, it was an accident, it was an accident,” I chanted under my breath continuously, creating a chant of my own. “Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies—” A sob wrenched from my throat.

I shot up in bed, my heart beating a mile a minute. A chill swept down my spine as Dr. Blake’s words echoed around my mind. He said that I’d killed her, and something in his tone resonated deep within my subconscious. He was right. I remembered. Somehow, during our fight, I’d been the one who ended up on top of Gentry. It had been me swinging the knife around. It might have been an accident, but she died by my hand.

Hot tears burned my skin and blurred my vision. I didn’t even think it could get any worse than it had, but it did. She trusted me so completely, so blindly, and I took that trust and took her life along with it.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on my most recent nightmare because a knock sounded at the door, followed by it opening with a creak. It was sad that I was starting to look forward to these interactions. As anticipated, it was Gloria who poked her head in the room. She’s been the only staff member that I’ve had to interact with so far. It wasn’t that I minded her company, it was just repetitive.

Her smile was more relaxed when she entered, carrying a tray of food that housed a cup of something on top. The different smells wafted through the air, making my stomach grumble with hunger.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked.

I bit my lower lip, the events from my most recent dream spiraling through my head. “No.” Was my only reply. She moved forward, placing the tray at the foot of my bed and took a step backwards.

“I know this isn’t easy,” she said suddenly, catching me off guard. Everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around us, seemingly scared of saying the wrong thing. It made sense. It just didn’t feel good. When I continued to just stare at her, unsure of what to say, she continued. “I overheard your conversation with Dr. Blake yesterday,” she explained. “The way you spoke about…” she trailed off, grimacing like she knew she probably overstepped.

Considering where we were, I didn’t fault her for that. Had she mentioned it to someone with schizophrenia, psychosis, or another type of mind-altering disease similar, then she might have received a reaction she wasn’t hoping for.

“I’m not going to attack you for simply talking to me. It wasn’t like I snapped and killed her. It was an accident. I remember now.” My gaze fell to my hands, knots forming in the depths of my stomach. “She got in the way and as I drew the blade out to stab him…it got her. I’m not saying I’m completely normal, but I’m not crazy either.”

Gloria’s expression softened, a series of emotions flashing across her face. For once, it felt like somebody believed me. As hungry as I was, it didn’t feel right to eat while having this conversation, especially when the thought of Daisy never being able to eat again slithered through my thoughts. She would have liked the food here.

“What are your hobbies?” she pressed, changing the subject. “We have a variety of different things that we offer here. Maybe you could sign up for some classes in one of our programs.”

I contemplated that for a moment. If my willingness to be more involved with this place got me out of this room more, then I’d do it. Even if I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about it. Before coming here, I enjoyed reading, singing, drama—even just watching others perform; I also liked planting flowers.

“I like books, but I’m assuming there’s not a club around here that offers reading.” I tilted my head, eyeing her curiously.

Her face lit up instantly. “We have a book club on Saturdays. Is there anything else? Something more hands-on?”

My mind flashed back to my life before this. Going to church with Alex had always made me feel better. Most places like this offered that as an option, so maybe it was worth a shot. “Church?” I pressed, not bothering to hide the hopefulness from my tone.

“We have a sermon tonight actually. I can get you signed up for that too, if you’d like.”

My shoulders dropped with relief. “Thanks.”

Gloria nodded, her gaze sweeping from me toward the food I hadn’t bothered touching. “I’ll go ahead and do that while you eat. I’ll be back in an hour to get you for group.” She shot me one last smile before slipping out of the room.

The weight of everything sat heavily on my chest once I was left alone with my thoughts again. Maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe she was in a better place now. That was the only hope I had to cling onto at the moment, so it had to be true.

Images of her lifeless body hitting the ground with a deafening thud invaded my headspace. Followed by Dr. Blake’s words: Dissociative disorder, he’d said.

He’s wrong.

He just wants to see you fail. You did what you had to. It wasn’t your fault.

Confusion whirled around my brain, my thoughts making less and less sense. Those thoughts couldn’t have been mine , right? Unease trickled through me, and I quickly shook off the unwanted feelings. This transition has been extremely difficult; it was normal for people to act out of character given certain circumstances.

Reaching for the tray of food at the end of my bed, I tugged it onto my lap and glanced down at it. Five cinnamon sticks were laid out in a row with a syrup packet sitting in the right-hand corner of the plate. A cup of apple sauce sat on the opposite side. In my cup appeared to be plain, white milk. The food here reminded me a lot of the food they offered at my college.

After eating, Gloria walked me to group. A pit formed in the depths of my stomach as nervous energy vibrated through me. It was still difficult for me to wrap my head around being a patient here. I always thought I’d be the one doing the counseling. Upon entering the classroom, I realized that the larger tables that had been here before were folded up and placed against the wall. Instead, there were several circular tables littering the area with five chairs positioned around each one.

Folded up pieces of paper occupied each spot, indicating that they were most likely name tags. Almost everyone was already seated by the time I walked into the room, so it made navigating my way through the area much easier. When I finally spotted my name, anxiety rippled through my veins like a current.

At my table was: Cheyanne, Jordan, Alina, and Seven. My heart thumped wildly as I slid into the space between Alina and Jordan, leaving Seven seated directly across from me. They were much more attractive up close, and it had my heart doing stupid things—like palpitating for example.

As soon as the remainder of people took their seats, Mrs. Octavia made her way to the front of the room.

“Today we will be doing a fun activity where we get to know each other on a more personal level,” she began. “Miss Gloria is going to pass out a worksheet to each one of you, and you’re going to go around the table, asking each other questions. Remember, failure to comply will earn you a strike. Too many strikes will get you an appointment with Dr. Theodore.” She shot a pointed look at no one in particular before she motioned for Gloria.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about prying into other people’s minds. Hopefully the questions weren’t too personal. Jordan had psychosis and delusion disorder for crying out loud. Anything could set him off depending on how bad he was and if he was taking the right medications. Cheyanne was schizophrenic, which meant that she had a form of psychosis herself, and that came with delusions as well.

Once all the papers were passed out, we were given a pencil to write with. I didn’t miss the fact that the pencil tips were extremely dull from too much use. I could see why they didn’t want to sharpen them.

My eyes skimmed over the page, and I took in the questions I’d have to ask my peers—the questions I’d also have to answer.

A deep, gravelly voice sounded from my right. “Are you just going to stare at it all day, or are we going to get this over with?” Jordan asked me. Embarrassment shot through my chest and my face heated. I must have missed something Mrs. Octavia had said. Looking around the room, I realized everyone had already started, voices filling the air as they worked.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Did you want to ask first, or…” I trailed off, hoping he wasn’t incompetent enough to fill in the blank.

He rolled his eyes but went anyways. “What’s your first and last name?”

“Rosalie Swanson. Yours?”

He jotted down my name on the paper before looking at me again, his greenish, blue eyes making my breath catch as they peered into my own. “Jordan Hayes.” Stubble coated the bottom of his jaw, traveling up the sides of his face and getting lost in his dark blonde hair. He was stunning. Forcing my gaze away, I wrote down his name. “When’s your birthday?”

“May third.”

After he wrote it down, I glanced back at the piece of paper. His birthday was on Valentine’s Day, so that was pretty easy to remember. The first few questions were simple ones with no depth to them. I had a feeling that was intentional; a way of breaking the ice.

“Disorders?” he questioned.

The last time I’d been asked this, I didn’t have any. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I’d been officially diagnosed, but it still counted. “Dissociative Disorder.” His eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t comment on it and jotted it down.

I didn’t need to ask him that question, so I wrote what I knew about his disorders down as well.

When he looked at me expectantly, I just shrugged. “I already know what yours are.”

The deeper the questions got, the less he wanted to tell me. Pulling answers out of him was like pulling teeth. It was annoying, but also understandable. Once I managed to get all the answers, I turned to Alina. She was much easier to talk to, willing to tell me just about anything pertaining to herself. She even went off script and started rambling about her life before this, not showing a single ounce of remorse for any of the things she’d done in her past. I learned that she liked shopping, binging reality TV shows, dancing, and clubbing. While her little sister might have been her first victim when it came to murdering someone before being sent here, she hadn’t been her only victim. Alina liked to bully others which she was more than willing to share with me, she’d just worded it differently. By the end of my conversation with her, I felt drained.

When it was time for me to pair up with Seven, nervous energy crawled down my spine. His icy blue eyes were set in a glare, his gaze trailing over me with obvious dislike.

Clearing my throat, I rambled off the first question. He stared at me for a long moment before bothering to reply, his voice clipped. If I’d thought Jordan had been hard to navigate when it came to this stupid exercise, that was nothing compared to Seven. His lips had that angel’s-bow shape and I was involuntarily drawn to them every time he spoke.

“Relationship status?” he pressed.

My forehead creased as I glanced down at the paper in confusion. “Uh, that question isn’t on here.”

He leaned across the table, bracing his forearms on the table. “Call me ambitious.” He didn’t look at me like he was interested in me. No. It looked like he wanted to know for his own reasons, reasons I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“I have a boyfriend.”

My chest tightened at the mere thought of Alex. I missed him like crazy. By now, I would have already been back at college, doing my classes for the week. After my lessons, we’d go get something to eat and get ready for church.

My answer seemed to satisfy him, because he leaned back in his chair and didn’t bring it up again.

After group therapy, Ms. Gloria walked me back to my room. My gaze scanned over the familiar setting, defeat settling into my limbs. I couldn’t even imagine prison being this monotonous.

I turned to face her. “Is there any way I can speak with Dr. Blake again?” I asked. If I could tell him about my nightmare and explain to him that I remembered what happened now, maybe he’d be more willing to get me out of this place.

“You’ll be able to speak with him again next week,” she assured me. “Everyone sees Dr. Blake once a week for the first month or so.”

I sighed. Every day in this place felt like a week wasted. How was I supposed to get through another several days? Ms. Gloria shot me a small smile before telling me that she’d see me later and then she disappeared again.

My shoulders dropped with defeat as I strode across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. One of the books I’d been reading was positioned near the wall, reminding me that I still had another four chapters left. It was about a girl who ended up in the foster system and was passed between families, each one seeming to be worse than the last. Her foster brother ended up raping her and she was thrown back into the system yet again when she was just getting comfortable there. She started acting out and years later, she was sent to an academy for troubled youth where she ran into her foster brother again and his three hot best friends. They took turns torturing her, but despite that, she couldn’t fight her attraction for them.

I reached across the bed, taking the book in my hands, dropping my gaze to the cover. It was a black polish with a skull on the front. In silver letters, the title read Sinful Desires. I wondered if they had books like this in the library. I flipped open to chapter twenty-nine and started reading. The chapters were relatively long, but eventually, I read the final chapter, my heart racing from the cliffhanger.

My head hit the pillow as I laid down, my gaze sweeping over the mundane ceiling. Exhaustion started settling into my limbs, taking over. My sleep had been interrupted earlier, not only from the nightmare, but from Gloria retrieving me for group, too. Nausea coiled in my stomach. This place was meant for people with severe issues. Issues that didn’t even apply to me, yet here I was, stuck with the lot of them.

Sighing, my eyes fluttered closed. At least sleeping would pass the time.

The nightmare was the same as last night’s. Daisy and I singing our childhood song, laughing and spinning in circles until it morphed into something much more sinister. I threw the blankets from my body and rose, my heart still racing from the horrors that had occurred during my sleep. There was no way for me to tell time in here, but by how my stomach was grumbling, I assumed it was nearly time for dinner.

I gathered up some clothes and slipped into the bathroom. This room was small with a toilet, sink, and stand-up shower. There wasn’t even a mirror in here. The floor was the same kind of marble as everywhere else within the building aside from Dr. Blake’s office. It was boring . I imagined that being locked up in here was the equivalent to being locked in the quiet room . At least, that’s what they referred to it as in my psyche classes.

I quickly got undressed and took a shower. The hot water felt good against my skin, reminding me for a moment that I was still alive and that this wasn’t hell. When I’d finished, I pulled on another one of those stupid skirts Mom brought me and paired it with the stockings and another shirt, similar to the one I’d worn the other day. My long honey-blonde hair fell down my back in waves. Glancing down at my attire, I frowned. It looked like I was about to go to an all-girls school where uniforms were required. Part of me felt like she did that on purpose, knowing it would get under my skin.

My hair had time to dry for the most part before Gloria made her grand entrance. Today’s dinner was cheeseburgers, fries, and a pudding cup. After scarfing that down, she led me down the hall—similar to the one she’d been taking me down for group therapy, but it wasn’t the same one. She explained that I’d have the opportunity to eat dinner at Church on Wednesday nights if that’s what I preferred.

A young-looking man stood outside of an opened door, greeting people as they entered the room behind him. I recognized the guy immediately as the pastor. He was dressed in all black, his dark hair kept short. An emblem of a cross was embroidered into his chest pocket along with his name – Valentine Hayes.

Hayes…

As in Jordan?

Confusion trickled through me as we approached the man, an easygoing smile plastered across his face, showing off his blindingly white teeth.

“Rosalie, this is Pastor Valentine,” Gloria introduced.

“Hi,” I murmured, shifting uncomfortably beneath his intense stare. He had light gray eyes with flecks of brown weaving within them.

“Welcome.” His smile widened. “Why don’t you head inside, and I’ll be in shortly.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I slipped into the room like my ass was on fire, and it might as well have been after the most recent events that had occurred, inevitably bringing me here.

Pews lined the large room in rows, making it look like any other church. At the far end was a stage and a large cross sat against the wall behind it. Voices reached my ears, trickling into the room. My fingers twitched at my sides as I forced my legs in the direction of the voices.

There was another room, the door slightly ajar with light bleeding out from the opening. I pulled it open, glancing around the room. Tables of two were set up all over with a podium near the front and a bible placed on every one of them. This place seemed to have a thing for projectors, considering that there was another one positioned toward the far wall.

I recognized a few of the faces from group therapy, but I’d never spoken to any of them. The others looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember their names.

I slipped into a spot near the far back of the room, secluded from the rest of the people. My eyes dropped down to the bible on my table, my fingers running over the rough leather material. This was the most normal I’d felt in a long while. It reminded me of my life outside of here. We had Wednesday classes, too. Though, they were typically much fuller than this.

Valentine made his way to the front of the room and took his spot behind the podium. He started flipping through his bible, his forehead creased as he skimmed the pages.

Just when my shoulders relaxed with a sense of comfort, knowing I’d just be able to stick to myself in the secluded corner I’d chosen, a shadow loomed over me, making my heart race. Chancing a look at the figure who’d approached, my breath stalled momentarily as my eyes clashed with a pair of light blue ones, much like my own.

Archer .

“Mind if I sit?” he motioned to the empty spot next to me.

No! Find somewhere else. That’s what I wanted to say anyways, but all I could really do was shake my head. His face lit up and he slid into the seat beside me. The heat from his body enveloped me, stroking my skin like a gentle caress. There were several spots still available, so why did he choose the one right next to me?

His words pulled me out of my thoughts, making my eyes snap to his again. “Rosalie, right?”

“Yeah.” I breathed, nervous energy sprinkling over me.

With him this close to me, I could make out the definition around his jaw and cheekbones. His skin had a natural tan to it which complimented his eyes. His cheekbones were sharp, and his jaw was angled—a square-cut that made it difficult to look away. His gaze dropped to my lips, his stare burning into me as he trailed it along the rest of my body.

Was he checking me out?

“You might want to be careful wearing a skirt around here,” he said suddenly. “Someone might get the wrong idea.”

My breath hitched and I turned away from him, propping my elbow on the table to shield my face. Was he implying something? That sounded kind of like a threat.

Valentine chose that moment to go over what we’d be doing today. Apparently, we were doing another questionnaire, but it was church related this time. When he made it to my table, he looked between me and Archer, uncertainty in his gaze, like he didn’t trust the man sitting at my side one bit. That just put me more on edge.

“You okay?” Valentine asked me, probably noticing how my posture was turned and how I’d made it my mission to sit as far away from Archer as possible.

If I told him I was uncomfortable with my new partner, he’d probably make me move to another seat. Not to mention, it would draw even more attention to me. So, I forced a fake smile and nodded instead.

Valentine didn’t look convinced, bouncing his gaze from me to him and back again before realizing there was nothing he could do unless I spoke up, and then walked away. A sigh slipped from my lips, and I turned my body back to the front of the room again, Archer’s body heat enveloping once more.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he explained, taking me by surprise.

“No?” I countered.

He shook his head. “I meant what I said. Just not in the way you took it.”

I thought about that for a moment. What else could he have meant by that? “Then what did you mean?” I pressed, trying to get a read on him.

He leaned in, invading my personal space. My heart galloped into my throat, but any further protest was stilted. There was nothing he could do to me in a room full of people. That thought brought me a sense of comfort.

“This place is filled with horrible people. Of people who want to take what isn’t theirs. I just meant that if you’re not careful, that skirt grants them easier access.” His warm breath was a captivating caress against my skin, my body shuddering at not only his words, but the dark look in his eyes, too.

He was…intense.

My mind drifted back to the first time I had group therapy. He obsessed, and his obsession cost someone their life. For some reason, that thought didn’t disturb me as much anymore. It wasn’t like I had much to live for now, not after losing Daisy, and knowing that I’d been the one to murder her.

Finally, he pulled back, taking his heat with him. My thoughts faded into the background, the ability to breathe coming more easily now.

Glancing down at the worksheet, I rambled off the first question. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

His jaw tensed and he glanced away, the energy around him transforming into something darker. It seemed like a simple enough question. Maybe he didn’t have plans for the future, yet? After a few moments of silence from his end, I figured he had no intention of answering, until he did. “Here.” The answer was short and direct, but it still had a powerful effect on me. A chill swept down my spine followed by sympathy. “And you?”

That was easy. “Out of college if I can ever manage to get out of here.” I smiled. His gaze dropped to my mouth again, his shoulders relaxing.

“You’re in college?”

I nodded. “I’m a Psych major.”

A slow smile stretched across his face. Holy shit. He was even more handsome when he grinned. Heat vibrated through me, followed by guilt. I shouldn’t have been admiring anyone else. Even if it was innocent. Returning my gaze back to the sheet of paper sprawled out before me, I skimmed over the next question.

“How close are you with God?” I asked.

“Not close at all. Not anymore.”

Not anymore.

I wondered what he meant by that, but didn’t want to pry in case he had some kind of religious trauma.

The rest of the questions were just as basic. Asking if we prayed, if we meditated, what made us want to reach out to God in the first place, and so on. In no time, we were done. I placed the paper face down on the table, setting the pencil on top of it.

“Have you had a tour around the place, yet?” Archer questioned, leaning back in his seat.

“No.”

He nodded thoughtfully, twirling the pencil between his long fingers. “I can show you around if you want.”

My gaze snagged on the tattoos coating his knuckles and trickling up the length of his toned arm. If he stepped foot in my church back in Northbrook, the women there would clutch their pearls and drown him in holy water. That thought almost had a laugh bubbling out of me. Almost. An air of darkness surrounded him, but when he spoke, it was smooth, contrasting against my initial impression and leaving me more confused. But then the things he said…about my skirt. It was difficult to get a read on him.

Did I want him to give me a tour? What if he cornered me in a secluded area where no one was around and did whatever he wanted to me? Then again, if I remained cautious when it came to everyone here, I’d never have any friends. Not that I needed them, but it would make this entire situation more bearable.

“Sure,” I finally said. “But I don’t know when they plan on letting me out of my prison cell.” I rolled my eyes at that last part.

“When did you get here?” He shifted closer to me, his arm grazing mine, making electricity prickle over my skin from the small touch.

“Four days ago.” Though, it felt like two weeks already.

We continued talking back and forth for the next ten minutes, neither of us caring to get into the deeper topics, which I was thankful for. Afterwards, Ms. Clarissa didn’t take me to my room right away, explaining that it was visitation day and that someone had come to visit me. I preferred Ms. Gloria over her. Clarissa was young, too, but the way she looked at me was with judgment—like she was so much better than me.

She led me into a room with tables and vending machines set up all over. It didn’t take long for me to spot my mom. For once, she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt of her own. Her hair was still unkempt, but it was progress.

When my gaze bounced over to the person beside her, my heart rate increased, and a smile broke out across my face. I hurried over to them, my gaze focused on Alex more than my mom.

“We brought you something.” Alex grinned, holding out a caramel frappe. “It was a lot of work trying to get this in here.”

I laughed and took it, placing my lips to the straw immediately. A satisfied moan tore from my throat as the cold drink coated my tongue and encouraged my tastebuds. Alex’s face flushed, probably from the sounds I was making, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. It had been so long since I’d had one of these.

“You look well,” Mom said with a tight smile.

I narrowed my eyes, Archer’s words echoing around my skull. “What’s with the clothes?” I demanded, motioning to my body for emphasis.

She had the audacity to look surprised. It was no secret that our relationship was strained at best. There was no motherly love, no maternal instincts from her, nothing but her own selfish desires. I still loved her, because cutting off family was much easier said than done, but if she had chosen my outfits with some kind of screwed up ulterior motive, I was done.

“I thought they were cute,” she defended. “Is there a dress code here? Is that why you’re upset?” She glanced around the room, presumably to find a sign with the words dress code imprinted on it in bold font.

I sighed, my shoulders dropping. “No. There’s not a dress code. It’s just…” I trailed off.

Alex reached across the table, taking my hand in his. There was no spark when our skin made contact, no electricity, nothing that made my heart skip a beat. It was just simple contact—no different from when my mom touched me, or when a stranger did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, genuine concern flickering across his face.

Part of me didn’t want to tell them. It would make Alex freak out and if it were truly something innocent on my mom’s end, I didn’t want her to feel bad about it. But the only way to know for sure was if I said something. If she didn’t bring me new clothes, I’d have my answer.

I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on the table. “Someone told me that my skirt might be distracting for some people. He basically insinuated that it could get me—” I glanced away, not wanting to finish the rest of that sentence. Hopefully they could fill in the blanks.

Alex’s eyes flashed with fury and my mom just stared at me in astonishment. I took another sip of my beverage and leaned back in my seat again, tightening my grip around Alex’s hand in an attempt to reassure him.

“Another patient told you this?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it came from a good place.” I think. Hopefully.

Alex scoffed. “Don’t be na?ve, Rosie. You’re smarter than that and you know it.”

I sighed and nodded. He was probably right. Maybe Archer had been including himself in that statement, but didn’t want to scare me off by telling me that.

As if my thoughts conjured the devil himself, I spotted him across the room with a woman and man who looked strikingly similar to him. Those had to be his parents. His gaze found mine, a curl twisting the corner of his mouth to form a dangerous-looking smirk. A couple of tables away was Seven and what appeared to be his family. He caught my eye too, except when he did, he glared at me.

“Do we need to tell someone?” My mom’s voice cut through the tension in the room and forced me back to reality.

I snorted in response to that. “It wouldn’t change anything. It would probably make things worse.”

If they did something, Archer would only be placed in lock-up for a limited amount of time before he was released back into the population. He’d be angry, then, and probably vengeful. I knew how these things worked and would rather not take my chances.

My mom mulled that over for a moment before nodding. “I’ll make sure to bring you more clothes when I come to visit next week.”

A breath of relief slipped past my lips, and I nodded. From the moment I rummaged through those bags, I knew the clothing choices were a very bad idea. There were people here who had impulse control issues; I think that’s what Archer was trying to tell me earlier, but it came out wrong.

Alex looked at me for a long moment, silent as if he was deep in thought. “You’re doing okay, though, right?” he asked, searching my gaze. “I mean, aside from what that other patient had said to you.” His expression hardened, giving away the fact that he didn’t like that one bit.

A small smile tugged at my lips. I loved how much he cared. He was always so considerate and empathetic when it came to my feelings. That was one thing I probably missed the most while being here. Having someone at my side who understood and would simply listen to my problems. Alex was a good listener.

“Yeah. I’m still in lock-up, so I don’t get to leave my room all that much but given the circumstances…I’m fine.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “Lock up? What the hell for?” she demanded.

I flinched, not wanting to spell it all out, knowing it would change the entire aura of this little visitation. But not talking about it was a disservice to her , and I couldn’t do that. “Because I killed Daisy, Mom.” My chest tightened painfully, the heat in my body moving toward the back of my eyes. “Dr Blake thinks that I have dissociative personality disorder and PTSD. Apparently, Gentry was already dead when…” I trailed off, wincing.

Sorrow shown within my mom’s blue eyes, but she didn’t seem surprised. She’d known from the very moment it happened, which would explain her coldness toward me at the hospital. A lone tear trickled down her cheek, slapping against the table. Blowing out a breath, she nodded and glanced away.

“If Gentry had already been dead…, how did I get stabbed?”

This time it was Alex who spoke. His fingers laced through mine, and he squeezed them reassuringly. “It was self-inflicted, Rosie.”

His words were like a slap to the face. Tugging my hand out of his grip, I stiffened in my seat, shock spiraling through me. “What do you mean it was self-inflicted?” I demanded.

That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. My head pounded furiously with this new information; fear laced with guilt pumping violently through my veins. It felt like my skull was on the verge of combusting. My hands drifted to either side of my face, noting their similar expression. Pain, guilt, sorrow, regret. I couldn’t have possibly conjured up this story all on my own. That would mean...that would mean I was just like they thought—crazy, unhinged.

“It’s true, Rosalie,” Mom stated, forcing my eyes to meet with hers again. “Gentry did attack you and Daisy. That much was true. But you killed him before he could do any real damage. As you were swinging the knife, you got Daisy with it. You cradled her body and cried and out of remorse, you turned the weapon on yourself.”

I shook my head, tears rolling down my face again. Their expressions became a blur of nothing as I sobbed silently. Sniffling, I raised my head. “I-If you saw all of that, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did . I kept screaming for you to stop, but you were too far gone. It was like you were in a daze. I’m sorry, baby.” Her voice cracked at the end, and that just made me cry harder.

Baby . That wasn’t me. That’s what she called Daisy.

She’s doing this to you on purpose.

She wants you to hurt.

Daisy was her favorite and you took her away.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

The voices kept chanting in my head, filling up the space until it was all I could hear. My fingers threaded through my hair, and I pulled, causing pain to prickle along my scalp.

“No!” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even process it.

Everyone in the room seemed to pin their gazes on me, concern and annoyance flickering across their faces. Heat spread through me like a wildfire from both embarrassment and agony.

“I-I have to go.” I rose abruptly, nearly knocking my frappe over with the jerked movement.

“Rosalie—” Mom started to protest.

“No,” I snapped. “I have to go.”

Turning on my heels, I fled. Two security guards blocked my exit that happened to be positioned next to some kind of gift shop. Their words faded into the background before one of them stepped to the side and allowed me through.