Page 3 of Toxic
I indicate the measuring tape affixed to the wall next to us, and he shuffles over obediently, all the while he eyes me with a puzzled expression, as if I’m a problem he’s determined to solve. He submits to my handling as I record his height. Six feet of animal male towers over my five-foot-sixframe.
Without thinking, I shove up the long sleeves of my scrubs as I record his measurements and check the clock as I desperately countdown to my first break. I just got here and I’m already impatient for ten thirty to roll around so I can get fifteen minutes ofsolitude.
A shiver runs down my spine, and like the prey I am, I freeze before forcing myself to look to the doorway. I expect to see Vic standing there, watching me. That’s the only explanation I have for the way my whole body freezes and the urgent need to flee takes over. I scan the room, certain he’s there waiting for me to do something wrong. Like breathe without his permission. Instead of my husband’s eyes on me, it’s the inmate’s attention that’s causing my panic. My gaze follows his, and when I move to hide my wrists, his muscles gorigid.
Dark, purpling bruises encircle my wrists from the vicious grip Vic had this morning in bed. Sweat beads on my upper lip, and my ears ring. Frozen in stasis, I can’t think of an appropriate response or excuse—not that I need to give him, of all people, an excuse. After a moment of suspense-laden pause where my eyes flit to his narrowed ones, I turn my back on him and head to the infirmary to call the officers back for their prisoner. Since we always seem to be understaffed, it isn’t uncommon for them to split between both rooms, and right now, I’m cursing that for all it’sworth.
I don’t make itthatfar.
I should have known better. Every instinct since I stepped into the room has been telling me to keep my guard up because the moment I took my eyes off him, he’dpounce.
And, fuck me, it’s exactly whathappens.
In the long space of a protracted moment, he’s so close to my back his warmth surrounds me. He pins me between his body and the wall, his front to my back. A stab of profound fear engulfs me, and I can’t control the whimper that explodes from mythroat.
He doesn’t make the mistake of touching me, but the threat is there nonetheless. Which is exactly what he wants me to know. He may be the one behind bars, but he’s the one with the powerrightnow.
He speaks for the first time, and my body turns to ice. At least I hope it’s ice. The only other explanation is one I won’t evenconsider.
“Did someone hurt you, little mouse?” His voice is as empty and hard as his gaze was. An abyss of secrets and lies. He shifts but still doesn’t touch me as he leans forward andinhales.
Is he smellingmyhair?
“Is that why you look like you want to crawl back intoahole?”
Words are animpossibility.
It doesn’t seem to matter to him because he goes on speaking. “What’s a girl like you doing in this placeanyway?Hmm?”
He doesn’t expect me to answer, so I don’t. I don’t think I could if Itried.
He nudges my shoulder, touching me for the first time to indicate he wants me to turn around. So, I do, making sure to keep a wary eye on him. Breath stutters past my lips in staccato bursts. My hands clench into fists by mysides.
His hands raise, and I flinch. My reaction is so subtle that I wouldn’t expect him to even notice, but his eyes flash to mine in abrupt understanding. There’s a tug at the breast pocket of my scrubs, but I don’t dare look away fromhisgaze.
I canonlywait.
White edges into my vision as he raises my ID card to his line of sight. I shiver from the ice collecting in my stomach as he studies my pictureandname.
“Tessa Emerson, RN,” he murmurs, peering deeply into my eyes. “It’s nice to officially meet you. I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot of eachother.”
Maybe it’s the morning spent underneath my grunting husband. Maybe it’s the all too self-assured gleam in this criminal’s eyes. Maybe it’s insanity. Whatever it is, it builds inside me. My skin pulls tight, and I almost expect it to crack and split, but it doesn’t. Instead, my arms shoot forward, and I shove at his chest with my palms.They come in contact with the wall of firm muscle, emphasizing how impotent I am. It doesn’t move his mountainous form, but he relents and gives me a few scant inches of breathing room, which I desperately need. The air between us is thick with tension, and I find myself drawing it in with greedy gulps, but it isn’tenough.
My flare of anger seems to please him, though, because the creases at the corner of his eyes twitch and he bares his teeth in aferalgrin.
I find my voice, my irritation growing at his amusement. I’m the one in control. “Back away,” I order, willing a bit of steel into myvoice.
He holds up his hands in a show of uncharacteristic complacency as the officers choose the next moment to make their appearance. Their eyes swivel back and forth between the inmate and me until they finally stay trainedonme.
“Is everything okay here?” one ofthemasks.
I could report his misconduct, but even as the thought occurs to me, I know I won’t. What’s worse is he seems to read my mind on the matter, and his smirk widens. Explaining what happened to an officer will only mean whispers will leak back to my husband and I’ll pay the price. For the first time, I resent this life Vic’s forced me to live. The officer who spoke impatiently sucks through his teeth. The sound skitters over my sensitized skin like an unwelcome insect, and Ishiver.
“Fine,” I answer a few seconds later, unable to stomach the uncomfortable pause. “Everythingisfine.”
Everything is most assuredlynotfine.
Blood drips from my nose, and I can’t see out of my right eye. The dark red liquid splatters on the pristine tile floor and races along the grout line. Vaguely, I contemplate how long it will take for me to scrub it out as my husband grips my hair and wrenches me back tomyfeet.