Page 65 of His Toy

CHAPTER 17

Heather

I imagined that I asked Hazel if I could stay in her dorm room, like Zaid told me too. In my daydream, Hazel understood everything. We were sisters, after all. I would stay in her dorm in Northern Arizona while we waited to hear from Zaid.He wants to protect us,I explained, and Hazel would nod, because she knew Zaid had saved her from Eric, had saved me from Eric too. While Zaid might have been a sadist, maybe even a criminal, it didn’t matter what his past was like, because he wanted what was best. In the end, Zaid was only looking out for us. And for the rest of the world.

I shook myself out of the daydream, just in time to veer to the side, avoiding a piece of trash in the middle of the road. I needed to pay attention. But I couldn’t shake that feeling that there was more to yesterday’s interaction than Zaid was letting on. He wanted me to hit him. No… He wanted me to hate him. He wanted me to leave. It wasn’t because he didn’t want me there, but for another reason. Something he wasn’t telling me.

With an upbringing like his, I knew he carried secrets. But I had felt his skin, seen the markings of his past. His clenched jaw, the aching expression, the scar cutting through his face, a symbol of what he held inside. Little by little, he was beginning to trust me. Whatever it was, this new thing, he held it tight against himself. What was he afraid of?

Concentrate on the road. You’re borrowing Zaid’s car for a reason, I told myself.

The clinic was a nondescript building, tucked behind a factory. It had taken six hours to get here. How many times had Zaid or Grant taken this trip? It was hard to imagine the two of them in a car for such a long stretch of time. Did Zaid listen to music? Did he zone out to podcasts? Did he drive in silence, analyzing the situations with his enemy?

Inside the lobby, a window was closed. Behind it, a short woman was busy with the paperwork in front of her. I knocked. She frowned, then slid the window open.

“I’m here to see Hazel Maben,” I said.

“Let me check.” She sat at the desk, typed into a computer, then shook her head. “We don’t have a Hazel Maben here. Is that what you said?”

I remembered Zaid had mentioned this might happen. “Zaid Vale sent me here?” My voice rising at the end of the sentence, because yeah, it was kind of weird to have someone not admitted under their name, but under the supposed guardian’s name.

“Ah.” She stood up and pointed in the direction. “Down the hallway, last door on the left.”

I thanked her, then stomped down the hallway, my sneakers squeaking the entire way. Unlike the other rooms, the last door on the left wasn’t labeled, but had a small intercom next to the entryway. I clicked the button, the flickering sound of a microphone coming to life.

“I’m a friend of Zaid Vale’s,” I said. The double doors clicked, unlocking.

A staff member led me to a room in the back corner. As he unlocked the door, I stood on my tip-toes to see Hazel through the window. She was a lump of recklessness tucked inside of a tan blanket.

“I said I don’t want any god damn white bread,” Hazel muttered.

“Hazy,” I said.

Hazel froze, then shot up in the bed. “Heather?”

We rushed towards each other and embraced each other tight. “I’ve missed you,” I said into her neck.

“You smell like pine trees,” she said. Then she stood back and looked at me. “Where have you been all this time? With that creep?”

Zaid wasn’t a creep. “I’ve been with Zaid.”

“I’m glad you didn’t bring him with you.” She leaned over to look behind me, as if Zaid might be hiding in a corner. “If I see him again, I’ll either kick him in the balls or point and scream.”

I didn’t know the particulars of what had happened when Zaid took Hazel, but it wasn’t the time to ask about that right now.

“Let me see you,” I said. I grabbed her arms, holding them out to the side, examining her hospital gown, a gray smock with blue flowers, tied in the back. “They’ve been treating you okay here?”

“I guess,” she said. She plopped down on the bed. “The food is fucking horrendous. I mean, at least the food in that dick bag’s prison was better than white bread and butter.”

“I thought they gave you applesauce. Vegetables. Stuff like that?”

“Sure. And then there’s white bread, with more white bread.” She pointed at the tray sitting on the plastic chair, where a bread car sat with a butter passenger. “I get a little bored.”

As I looked around, it felt like walking down a trail I knew well. Everything was familiar, exactly the way I remembered from watching the surveillance footage. I found the camera in the corner, a black box with one eye.

“That was you?” Hazel asked. I nodded. “Here I was, thinking that the creeps in this place were voyeuristic freaks. But it was you. You’re the freak, sis.” She pat the space next to her, and I sat down. “When do we leave?”

“Zaid thinks you’ll be safer here.” Hazel’s jaw dropped, horror crossing her eyes. “He thinks I should stay here too. I’m considering it.”