Page 49 of Brainwashed

My stomach coils up in preparation for being on display, even more than during my morning routine.Dr. Love and his penetrating gaze, here to scrutinize the animal.

Peters knocks on the door to his office and, unlike Joy, waits for the doctor to saycome inbefore opening it. He shoves me inside, removing everything while I place the doctor, who’s sitting at his desk with his nose buried in that same damn file.

Peters turns to leave. “Be back in forty—”

“One hour,” Dr. Love’s voice cuts him off.

I glance at Peters, whose gaze narrows at the doctor before he stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him.Hm… Not really making friends with the guards, are we, Doc?

The room is eerily quiet, as usual, while I peer at the desk where Dr. Love is seated, ignoring me. It seems to be his thing, and I’m left wondering if disregarding his patients is a tactic.Maybe it makes us drop our guard?

I waver in place for a moment, casually looking around the room. It reminds me of a school principal’s office more than a therapist’s office. And of course that’s because of where we are. I’m sure if Dr. Love has an office somewhere else, it’s much fancier.

My gaze returns to him and I jump, because this time he’s staring at me. He closes the file slowly, folding his hands on his desk while our eyes remain locked. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who loves eye contact as much as this man. Heneverlooks away. Like someone who takes staring contests way too seriously.

I break first, glancing at my shoes to get my bearings.If this is going to be another silent appointment, I might just go insane.

When my eyes slide back up to him, he gestures across the room to the couch. “Have a seat, Felix. Make yourself comfortable.”

I think that’s the most he’s said to me consecutively.

Wasting no time, I wander over to the couch and plop down on it. It’s one of those old velvet ones that looks like it’s from the seventies, a sort of deep maroon. My fingers run along the fabric as I nestle in, keeping my peripheral on Dr. Love while he stands, slowly, then waltzes over, taking a seat in the leather chair across from me.

The book in my pants is digging into my back, so I pull it out and place it on the couch beside me. Dr. Love peeks at it, then at me. Then the book. Then me. I can do nothing more than swallow, because it’s bizarre. Such deliberate movements of his eyes.Back, forth, back, forth.Like he’s being controlled by someone with a joystick.

I have this sudden impending need to fill the silence, so I murmur about the book, “I didn’t want to leave it in my cell. I’m afraid someone’s going to take it.”

Dr. Love nods. A very brief, uninterested motion. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black cell phone.

“I’ll be recording these sessions.” His words are just that. Words.

He’s not asking me if it’s okay, I’m guessing because he doesn’t need to. And he’s not expressing any sort of feelings about what he’s saying. He’s just… speaking.

It’s really interesting.I’ve never met someone so… Robotic.

He taps on the phone screen, placing it down on the coffee table. My eyes follow his hands where they fold on his lap.

“This is Dr. Lemuel Love, recording session one with Felix Darcey,” he begins, stating the date and time while I watch his lips move. “Felix.”

The sound of my name in his rumbly voice snaps me out of it and I flinch. “Hm?”

“Will you please state your full name and age,” he says, ademandrather than the question it’s supposed to be.

“Uh sure.” I gulp. “Felix Harmon Darcey. Age twenty-three.”

“Do you understand where you are, Felix?” he asks, his face impervious.

I nod slowly. “Yes.” I don’t continue, so he lifts his brows. “I’m in Alabaster Penitentiary. In the East Wing.”

Dr. Love nods, accepting my answer, though I can’t help the look I’m giving him.Did he think I was so crazy I might not know where I am?

But then his words sink in… He asked me if Iunderstandwhere I am.

“I was arrested at first for attempted kidnapping and attempted murder.” I keep going, and Dr. Love appears intrigued. “But they’d been building a case against me… They had thirty suspected murder victims, at least twenty-five bodies, plus a bunch of suspicious disappearances. And from what I heard while I was being passed around, Governor Russo didn’t want to take a chance on the insanity plea I was obviously going to try for. So they made it seem like I waskilledduring the arrest, and sent me here.”

Dr. Love glares at me for a moment, eyes narrowed, as if he’s impressed by my words and it irritates him.

I sit back on the couch. “Didn’t expect that kind of self-awareness, did you, Doc?”