Page 79 of Brainwashed

I feel like a junkie who just took a much-needed hit.

The sticky red coats me everywhere, pooling all over the floor of the cell. The entire room reeks of copper. But I like it.

“Because I’m a monster,” I whisper to my dead friend. “Just like you.”

Sitting up straight, still straddling Kieran’s lifeless form, I observe his face. My fingers run along the pale flesh, now spattered with blood. And I take my new favorite knife ever, using it to carve him up. I give him a wide smile that goes all the way up to his cheekbones. The knife is so sharp and the cuts so deep, his upper lip is barely hanging on anymore. But it works. Then I cut out his tongue, which I don’t do all the time, but I think for Kieran it makes sense.

“Looks like we finally shut you up.” I beam.

A noise grabs my attention, and I freeze. Listening closely, I prepare myself for Velle to burst open the door and kick my ass. But he doesn’t. The sound disappears, meaning it was probably just someone up the hall somewhere.

I let out a long breath of relief. “Gotta go, buddy.” I press a kiss on his forehead then stand up on legs shaky like jelly.

Wandering out of the room, I’m in a daze. I don’t even remember picking up the keys or letting myself out of the cell, but I guess I did because the next thing I know, I’m at the other end of the corridor, heading for the door that brings you toward that side exit, when I hear a noise. It sounds like someone is in one of these cells, which lingers in my head for a moment. Of course there are other inmates down here. Not many, and I never really see them, but still. They’re here.

Maybe they want to come with me. Wherever I’m going.

I’m shuffling in my post-kill trance as I check the small windows to the cells. The first two are empty. But I hear a sniffle from the one on the end, and when I peek inside the small square, my heart does a little thud.

It’s Dash.

I stroll inside the cell, wondering if he’s really here right now.Is this a dream?

I can barely see through the blood spatter on my glasses, so I remove them and try wiping them on my shirt. But it’s so soaked in sticky red, it just smears them more.

“Here. Wipe them on me.” Dash steps forward, offering me his clean white straitjacket to wipe my glasses.

A smirk tugs at my lips, and I do it, wiping the lenses off.He’s such a sweetheart.“Thanks.”

“Is that… your blood?” he asks quietly.

I take a moment to observe him. Even in the severely unflattering light of these cells, he’s beautiful. In like an obvious kind of way; a way that’s undeniable.

His hazel eyes are wide as I mumble, “It’s always my blood.”

I don’t know if he understands what I’m saying, but he looks tired and I get it. I hope they haven’t been experimenting on him, too.

Then the realization dawns on me. It breaks through my daze like a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds.

I have the keys. I could let him out.

Reaching into my pants for my trusty butterfly knife, I open it and Dash shakes his head.

“Darcey… don’t,” he mumbles in a worried tone, trying to step back.

“Stay still,” I command him, annoyed that he thinks I would hurt him.Doesn’t he know I like him so much??

I use the knife to cut through his straitjacket, not about to go through the whole process of un-lacing it. Dash wiggles his way free, stretching his arms out with a soft sigh that sounds good to my ears.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

“Don’t mention it.”

I watch him as he watches me for a moment. And then, in a sort of fluttering motion, he scampers to the door of the cell and peers out into the hall. “Darcey, I’m getting the fuck out of here.” He turns to gape at me. “You can come.”

I’m flattered that he’s offering. And for all of three seconds, I imagine escaping Alabaster Penitentiary with Dash. I think about us on the run together…

But something strange happens. And a certain tall, burly doctor with perfect dreadlocks and eyes the color of a blazing campfire pops into my head.