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MARISELA

“ S he’s making progress,” the fucker with the long nose and wide-brimmed glasses breathed into his desk phone, a bony finger twirling in the air while he talked about me like I wasn’t here.

Sitting in front of him. Being described like a piece of furniture: soft, compliant, easy to manipulate and maneuver.

They both did it. This guy and his counterpart. Where Dr. Hare was tall and lanky, Dr. Burke was short and wide. Put them together and they looked like the number ten in a skin suit. Their pockets full of pills and their mouths full of bullshit diagnoses.

Were some of the patients here in need of some serious psychiatric help?

Absolutely. But that wasn’t what these guys were doing.

They were playing god while the rest of us were nothing more than ants under a magnifying glass, scrambling around on the dirt.

Looking for a place to hide and trying to avoid the heat of their glare .

“A few more weeks and I think she’ll be ready for reintroduction.

” He paused, and then offered whoever was on the other end of the line another sugary-sweet reply.

“Of course… Yes, I understand… We appreciate your support. Our research department is nothing without the generosity of benefactors such as yourself, Mr. Cruz.”

I’d roll my eyes, if my body could remember how to do it. Right now, breathing seemed too much of an effort though.

I’d been trying my best to appear stunted, to let them think I was withstanding the full-force of their brain fry, but these fuckers had started to catch on, increasing the intensity and frequency of their shock treatments so that the little rubber balls didn’t do much to mitigate the effects anymore.

It left me vulnerable to the predatory gaze of every sick fuck who didn’t need more than a swipe of a keycard to access my room. It also meant I didn’t sleep much at night. Or at all really. As I waited for one of them to take the leering a little too far the next time.

It didn’t escape my notice that there weren’t many women on this ward. I could only imagine why. Maybe their families recognized a creep when they saw one. Mine certainly didn’t. That or they didn’t care.

The click of the phone on the receiver had me looking up from my hands in my lap to the condescending smirk that greeted me on the other side of the oversized mahogany desk. “Would you like to go home, Miss Cruz?” Dr. Hare asked .

It was a rhetorical question. A stupid one too. But that wasn’t the reason I didn’t answer him. It was because it took me so much longer to form words.

“You know,” he hummed, not bothering to wait for me to acknowledge him as he steepled his hands, his forehead creasing while he pretended to consider what he was about to say next.

“I could be persuaded to expedite the discharge process… if I were convinced you’re obedient enough to follow the aftercare program I’ve developed for you. ”

My brow twitched, the slightest inclination that my curiosity was piqued. It was all I could do. I still didn’t trust my voice and my body still didn’t feel like mine anymore.

Then he stood from his chair and stepped around his desk, leaning on the edge so that I was eye level with his crotch. “Can you be a good little girl and follow doctor’s orders, Marisela?” He grinned, and it took me a moment to realize his double meaning.

He was already unzipping his pants and reaching a hand inside, prepared to expose himself in his closed office, when the door swung open. Dr. Hare quickly tucked himself away again but there was no hiding what he was trying to do from the man in the blue surgical mask.

Dr. Hare reclaimed his seat behind his desk, clearing his throat before glaring in the newcomer’s direction. “Can I help you, Ad?—”

“John needs a second opinion,” the man replied a little too quickly and much louder than necessary.

“I’m with a patient,” Dr. Hare barked back.

“I see that. ”

It was a battle of wills as the two men stared at each other, trying to determine whose unspoken threat held more weight. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for the good doctor to curse under his breath, push up from his chair and storm out with the slam of the door.

Then it was just me and the stranger with the dark eyes as his heavy breaths puffed out the fabric of his mask. “Did he touch you?”

I shook my head. At least not in the way he was implying. Because my brain could be scrambled as long as my virtue remained intact. That was what really mattered to everyone who wasn’t me.

“Good. Okay…” He chanced a quick look over a shoulder before turning back in my direction. “We need to get you out of here.”

I swallowed and focused on forcing out the words in my head. “H-how?”

“I don’t know yet.” He sighed, and my hope was squashed before it had a chance to take root. He could see it too. At least that was the impression he gave me when he added, “But I’m gonna figure it out. I promise.”

Then he dropped the hand that was wrapped around my wrist, almost like he was making sure I was real, and started patting himself down, cursing when he didn’t seem to find whatever he was searching for.

“Look at me.” He tipped up my chin, and I watched his pupils dilate as his eyes flicked from side to side. “I need you to trust me, okay? I have to leave but I’m coming back for you. Do you understand me? ”

I nodded once. Not because I believed him but because I wanted to believe him. I wanted something to cling on to. Something to keep the hope from dying out completely. And right now, this guy and his promises were all I had.