Page 1 of Breaking Sanity (Hell’s Asylum #1)

Alley

This can’t be real life!

This can’t be real life!!

I stare into the motel bathroom mirror, looking like an actress coming off the set of a horror film.

My mascara is running down my cheeks, pairing perfectly with the slow trickle of blood still coming from the slash across my face.

It goes from my forehead, down to across my nose, stopping at the curve of my jaw.

My lipstick is smeared, bottom lip busted, and I have a lovely black eye.

Hopefully, there isn’t any internal bleeding, considering the pure strength of the guy.

I will say the man can kick and throw me as if I weighed nothing.

Seriously, I know now what a boomerang feels like.

My body screamed in agony as the adrenaline faded after I finally knocked him out. Though I am not about to waltz into a hospital. Given how easily it was for him to attack me, I’d rather not risk it, but I should probably get it checked out.

I send a quick text to the only number I have memorized and to the only man that would be able to help me.

Discarding the phone on the bathroom counter, I furiously rip off my clothes, revealing the mass amount of bruises that litter my body.

He may have thought that taking me was going to be easy, but I put up a fight.

Never count out the little guy, though. I may be short, soft, and squishy, but I make up for that with will and perseverance.

Plus, such complete paranoia that I have weapons stashed throughout my apartment in case of these situations.

I throw the shower on full blast and hop in, willing the scalding hot water to wash away the images drowning my brain.

It doesn’t work. I keep seeing the damn melting skull bandanna he covered his face with after he tackled me, and the gleam in his eye when the knife first cut into my flesh.

Maybe a shock is what I need to get them to go away.

I flip the handle from hot to absolute freezing. Wrong move!

I cry out as all my muscles scream in pain. It takes all my strength to keep myself from collapsing.

You can do this!

Breathe! It’s just a shower, babe!

The voices in my head chant as I brace myself by placing my palms flat on the grimy tan tile of the shower. Right now, they are the only thing keeping me together. I let them ramble about the events as I get control of my breathing.

I keep the cold water on so that I can focus on the pins and needles feeling.

It pushes me to keep going, but the tears blur my vision.

I’m hurt, yes. And scared, but more than anything?

I’m angry! I was stupidly blindsided because I should have never taken my eyes off him.

You would think after everything I have been through, I would know better.

Guess not.

I exit the shower, trying to move as slow as possible. The pain radiates through me with each minor movement feeling like the vibrations of a gong being struck, but if I don’t keep moving, he can find me. I don’t think I am up for round two. I head into the bedroom using the wall to keep me up.

Fortunately, I had already packed a bag before the fight broke out.

We were supposed to be going on a weekend getaway - our first date.

This should’ve been a red flag, considering that we hadn’t met in person, but I have been known to be overly spontaneous.

We were supposed to meet at the park and ride near my place, instead, he showed up at my apartment instead.

That should’ve been red flag number two, but he texted claiming the park and ride was overfilled.

Like an idiot, I didn’t think to question him.

I opened the door to those aquamarine eyes smiling at me.

Between being overly excited to get out and the twisting feeling in my gut that this was a bad idea, I didn’t get the best look at him before turning my back to grab my cell phone.

I’m pretty sure he didn’t expect me to fight back.

He definitely didn’t expect to get knocked out and carjacked.

I would call it unlucky for him, but a stroke of luck for me that he had an obscene amount of money stashed in the glove box.

I’m curious. What was his reaction when he woke up?

The phone rings, startling me so badly, I nearly scream.

Leaving the dimly lit, typical motel bedroom, where you question what was actually clean; I start to regain my energy as I enter the bathroom.

I slowly look at the screen, like it’s a wild animal that will attack, only to see his number coming across the screen.

“Titus,” I all but yell while answering the phone.

“Alley?”

“Yes! I need your help.” I’m trying to hold the sob trying to crawl up my throat. It’s been a while since I have heard from him.

After almost five years of not seeing Titus, his voice hasn’t changed. Still laced with concern, yet serious and stern. Almost like talking to a favorite teacher after he breaks you away from a fight.

“Where are you?”

“No, it’s too risky to say. I need you to video chat.”

The screen lights up with two handsome, grumpy faces. Of course he is with Declan.

“Alley, what’s going on,” Declan asks, pushing Titus to the side to get a better look.

“Best you don’t know, for now. How bad is this cut, Titus?”

Using the camera to zoom in on my face, I show him the entirety of the slash. When I pull it away, Declan looks concerned, and Titus’s face is contorted in anger.

“What the fuck happened,” he grits.

“Just answer my question, Titus,” I snap.

“It’s not bad. You will live. Just bandage it.” He hands the phone to Declan and walks out of view.

“Who did this?” Declan scowls into the camera.

“Honestly, I have no clue. He said he was collecting me.”

“Collecting you for what?”

“Fallen or Asylum or something like that.” I prop the phone against the bathroom mirror to look for a first aid kit.

“Alley, are the location services on your phone shut off,” Declan shouts. I pop my head up from underneath the sink and stare at his panicked expression.

“Of course they are. I’m not stupid.” I roll my eyes.

“Give me your location, then hang up, turn the phone off, and smash it.”

“What’s going on?”

He just gives me his stern look like an angry father catching his teenage kid in a lie. I give him the address, and we hang up.

Before I can turn off the phone, a text comes through. The pure irony of my nickname for him makes me laugh.

Too nice: Where did you run off to?

Me: Why? You want a round two after your nap?

Too Nice: You mean after you knocked me out with a fucking frying pan.

Me: Ol’ reliable just wanted to say hi *crying laughing emoji*

Too Nice: Hide all you want Gorgeous. I will find you.

Me: I’m not hiding. You want me? Come get me.

I turn off the phone but can’t bring myself to smash it as it holds the only remaining photos I have left of him, so I just shove it into the bottom of the bag. Pulling out my secret phone from three years ago, I plop on the bed and stare at it as the screen lights up.

It’s been a while since I have used this one.

Hell, I thought I lost it during the last move, but alas, the torturous device would not leave me.

It’s a painful reminder of two unrequited loves.

The home screen is a picture they took of their masks for me, because I was never allowed to see their faces.

I torture myself by going through all the text conversations until, ultimately, my eyes drift closed.

I am rudely awoken by the sounds of smashing plastic.

My eyes burst open to see Declan taking a hammer to the phone that was in my hands.

I look towards the door, and there is a tall broad man standing there with a simple black masquerade mask on talking to Titus, whose back is facing me.

I lazily turned to look at the retro alarm clock to see that I was out for a solid three hours.

“Can you not?” I sit up to glare at Declan. “Someone is going to call the cops for the noise.”

“We are in BFE at a run-down motel, no one is calling the cops,” He deadpans, putting the hammer down surrounded by the smashed pieces of the phone that contained my mystery men.

“How did you escape a collector,” the tall man asks.

“And you are?” I eye him up and down.

The man is stunning with his perfect oval shaped face and five o’clock shadow.

Along with his intimidating height, plus the lab that created him added the bulging muscles.

that he covered with a long sleeve grey shirt.

Given it acts like a second skin more than a shirt, I would say it’s two sizes smaller than what he should have.

The same goes for his acid washed jeans. This man’s legs rival Nick Bosa’s.

You’re drooling.

Fuck off!!

“How did you escape a collector,” he repeats.

“And you are?” I stand up and cross my arms over my chest.

He must take that as a challenge because he walks up to me, to the point I have to crane my head to keep eye contact. This man could easily squash me as if I were an ant, but I have never backed down. Sure, as hell not about to start now.

“I asked you a question.” He bends to look at me.

I almost lose my breath when his eyes meet mine. Close to the pupil there is silver being swirled into a dark grey cloud going to the edges, it’s like nothing I have seen before. Then add it with the beige cream skin tone and almost pitch-black hair, he seems that he isn’t even real.

Again, drooling!

“Who are you,” I demand, trying to regain focus.

“He’s a friend,” Titus supplies, getting between us.

“His name would be,” I ask with more attitude than intended.

“Killer.” The tall man smiles, revealing perfectly white teeth. He pushes Titus to the side and holds out his hand for me to shake.

“Because that is a name you can trust.” I place my hand in his and he swiftly pulls me to him in a punishing grip.

“Now, how did you escape,” He says calmly, but his eyes say he is anything but calm.