Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 116263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I could taste it.
The wickedness that emanated through the cracks in the walls.
It made me itch. Made me want to say, Fuck the plan, and crash through this window to get to her.
I went through the questions on the iPad, filling them out with bogus information.
A fake name and birth date and a completed mental health questionnaire.
I ran an agitated hand through my hair when the woman finally shut the file cabinet and began to weave back my way.
At least I looked the part.
Unhinged.
Disturbed.
Destruction whipping around me like a coming storm.
She stumbled a fraction when she saw me through the glass. No doubt, my appearance instantly set her on edge. I was used to it, but still, I ground my molars as she took me in like I was a monster staring back at her.
She was probably in her early sixties, her hair a salt-and-pepper gray, the mass of it in a thick bun at the back of her head.
Trepidation crawled over her spirit, though she straightened her spine, watching me with a wary gaze as she edged the rest of the way to the glass. “Are you an immediate danger to yourself or others?”
Oh, I was most definitely a danger.
“I’m just having a rough night, and think I need to talk to someone. Think my meds might be off.” The words were gravel, and I yanked at a tuft of my short, white hair to add emphasis.
She exhaled a strained breath from her nose. “All right. I’ll page a nurse and security so we can get you checked in.”
“Thank you,” I managed to say while my mind spun through every scenario.
The gun at my side burned a fucking hole in my pocket.
No question, the guard was going to pat me down.
A bolt of chaos ricocheted through me as I calculated the actions I might have to take.
I didn’t hurt innocents.
But I would do whatever it took to get Aria out of here.
To my left, the door buzzed, and a woman poked her head out. She sported a short bob of brown, curly hair and a warm, concerned smile on her face.
That was, until she saw me raging where I stood.
Fear flashed through her eyes, which had gone wide.
But that fear was different from usual.
Different from the natural warning people got that I was different.
Her attention dropped to her iPad, taking in the false information I had given.
“James Aragon?” The question wheezed from her mouth, confusion in her tone, like she already knew that wasn’t my real name.
Every nerve ending in my body stood on end, and flames lapped at the edges of my sight.
“That’s right.”
The woman’s brow twisted. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah?” I said it like she was the one who was losing it.
She cleared her throat and gave her head a harsh shake, as if she were trying to shun whatever had tripped her up.
“I’m Jill, the RN on staff tonight. Come on back, and we’ll get your intake questionnaire filled out.” She widened the door, and I could feel her frazzled nerves as I slipped by her and into the next room.
Here, it was sectioned off. There were three small holding rooms on the left and three rooms with desks on the right.
But the only thing that mattered was the second locked door at the very back. Heavy, reinforced metal.
The door that led to Aria.
My chest tightened into a fist, and the chaos spun and banged against the walls, fighting for a way to get out.
Clawing its way to her.
I came to a stop in the middle of the room, my gaze sweeping the area, gauging my next steps.
The nurse rounded on me, her brow furrowed as she looked at my face.
Eyes roving.
Searching.
“Sir, I’m afraid you might be in the wrong place.” She kept her voice a whisper. Riddled with questions. “The adult facilities are on the property behind this to the north. You can gain access on Morris Street. I can have someone escort you, if you’d like.”
Her words were weighted, and an awareness was seeping in.
The way she looked at me.
Like she knew me.
But I still had to play this right. I couldn’t get careless.
“Not in the wrong place.” The words were gruff, scraping like dull razors at the back of my throat.
My fingers itched to grab her key card.
“I’m seventeen,” I forced out.
Bullshit, yeah.
I silently begged her to accept it.
“What is your name?” she suddenly asked beneath her breath, like she was trying to keep it from the woman who currently was tapping at a computer in one of the rooms on the right.
Urgency radiated from her, and alarm gusted through my senses.
“I already filled the information out.” I gestured at the iPad she held in her hand. “James Aragon. Date of birth, May 17, 2005.”
Her head shook, and she suddenly reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. Emphasis underscored the words. “No. What is your name?”