Chapter 21 Is it wrong that I'm having murderous thoughts about permanently deleting Dr. Christopher Smith? And no, I'm not reflecting back on the time he accidentally framed me for murder... or the fact he secretly and illegally married me to his cousin. I'm referring to the fact that he's apparently off sick today. He better hope to God he's shitting out a storm or vomiting like the girl from The Exorcist because I may set Grey or Theo loose on him when he returns. 'Ms. White. Are you planning on wasting my time?' I scowl at Elsher from across the room, my arms tightly crossed against my chest. 'You do that well enough on your own.' That's right. Thanks to Dr. Smith's explosive diarrhea I've been forced to attend a session with Elsher. Okay, I don't know if it's diarrhea, but I'm telling myself that it is. Painful, gut breaking, Hell on Earth norovirus because even then, being in this room with this man is more agonizing. If I had some prior warning, I would have feigned illness myself and spent some quality time with Dr. Markel. Unfortunately, I only found out five minutes ago when I was shoved into his room by the guard. Elsher sighs heavily, tossing my file onto the desk. He leans back in his chair with a bored expression and starts... ignoring me? The clock on the wall ticks obnoxiously loud and I swear I can feel my eye start twitching. It's only an hour, Avery. You can do this. My leg bounces as the minutes pass in complete silence. It feels like some kind of test, the two of us seeing who will crack first. Sadly, I have too many thoughts. In the time that we play this game of chicken, I have a full internal conversation with myself, swearing and cursing this pathetic excuse of a psychiatrist. Eventually, the verbal vomit starts to filter out. 'So, kidnapped anyone else lately? Are the missing patients being cooperative downstairs? Or have you just killed them already?' A little extreme, I'll admit. But it gets the desired reaction. Elsher snaps his angry gaze to me, knuckles white as his fists ball up. 'You're out of line, Ms. White.' 'Ooh... tragedy,' I say sarcastically. 'At least you'll have some gossip to report back to Whittingham later when you braid each other's pubes.' He straightens his chair, leaning forward as his calculated gaze lingers on my face. 'It's a shame that you're beyond help. You could benefit from some of their treatment methods.' 'Oh, you mean like being forced into ice cold water. Or, being electrocuted? I have to admit that one was rough. But the icing on the cake for me was nearly overdosing on drugs and being forced to watch pornography. I bet you sick fucks had a good laugh at that one. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you all sit around Whittingham's office and jerk off to videos of patients fucking. Have I provided enough content?' My words are sharp and laced with venom, but there's still a sickening squeeze in my stomach at the thought. I know there's cameras everywhere and no doubt they have captured their fair share of sexual encounters. I mean, the library sees more action than a hotel and that's where they originally got their footage of Grey and Leah. Elsher laughs dryly. 'Your words mean nothing, Ms. White. There isn't anything you can say that can hurt me. My training-' 'You mean that bullshit excuse of a degree?' I cut in. 'I assume you have no morals or ethical dignity left since you choose to use your training to be the most deplorable, vile human known to man.' 'Interesting sentiment coming from someone who murdered someone.' I shrug. He's used this same tactic multiple times now that it's useless. Besides, I already mentally beat myself up enough about my father's death that people can't hurt me as much as I can hurt myself. But those days are slowly moving behind me. I refuse to let this man-no-this monster, make me feel any less of a person because he favors victim blaming and manipulation. 'Karma.' He cocks an eyebrow at the singular word, surprised. 'You honestly believe that you can justify your actions by calling it karma.' 'Sure,' I agree light-heartedly. 'Same way as you justify your torture as so-called treatments.' You can hear the pipes in the walls rattle. The room falls so quiet that for a brief second, I start making contingency plans in case he launches himself across the desk and strangles me. My eyes dart around, looking for makeshift weapons. If Grey has taught me anything, it's that anything can be a weapon if you use it hard enough. I mentally note the pair of scissors atop his desk, pausing for a second as it hits me that I've never seen a pair of scissors in Lilydale. For good reason obviously... Patients might be likely to grab them, either planning to harm themselves or others. But of course, there's no shock at the thought. Elsher is probably secretly hoping for that. 'Theo Ashwood,' Elsher murmurs, ripping my attention back to him. 'Interesting patient.' My blood boils. How dare he utter his name? He's not worthy of even breathing the same air as Theo and I'll kill him if he even thinks about touching him. 'Theo's baby toe is more interesting than your entire existence,' I shoot back. 'Jealous?' When a smug smile appears on his face, I brace. I can already sense what's coming-know his next move. Still, it lands exactly as he hopes. 'I'd love to experiment on him one day.' I act purely on instinct, launching to my feet and rushing toward the desk. My fist curls around the scissors and to my delight, Elsher's eyes widen in disbelief and... fear? Holding the sharp end in his face, it takes all my control not to shove the pointy tip into the bridge of his nose. 'I promise you,' I start. 'If you even look at him the wrong way, I'll send you to Hell myself.' He quickly recovers, masking his expression. But there's still a flare of anger, as if he's annoyed at my audacity to lash out at his words. It makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy, the thought that he never expected me to react like this. He probably assumed I'd yell or cry, or merely threaten with my words. But as I've told him, over and over, he doesn't know me. He doesn't know anything. I wasn't the monster before Lilydale that he thinks I was... but I sure as shit am now. Having something to lose makes you dangerous. I won't let anyone come between us again. No one will touch my guys. I don't care if I have to pay a price for their safety. They would do the same for me. 'Put the scissors down, Ms. White,' he growls, maintaining eye contact. There's a warning to his tone, a final chance for me to back down and comply. But we're past that. No matter what happens now, I've set my fate. I may as well see my promise through. Leaning forward a fraction more, he lets out a mangled choke as the tip of the scissors pushes against his skin-right between his eyes. It's not enough to hurt him by any means, and let's face it... I'm not about to kill him right this second. Not unless he gives me a reason to. But he doesn't know that. I only kill when necessary. A fucked-up version of Batman, I guess. Vigilante villain. Maybe I'm the love child of Batman and the Joker. That would be cool. 'Listen here.' I drop my voice low, allowing the smirk to creep onto my face. 'I'm everything you think I am, but nothing at the same time. If you think I won't kill again, you're mistaken. I would feel absolutely nothing at ending your life-no remorse, no guilt. Only relief knowing that you'd never hurt anyone else again.' I drag the tip down his pointed nose, lips twitching as his throat bobs with unease. Trailing the tip along his lips, I suddenly understand the desire to carve a smile into his cheeks. I'm probably being way too dramatic and theatrical, but it's working. Elsher is completely paralyzed with fear... because of little old me. 'I'll slit your throat,' I promise, grazing a line across his stubble, mimicking Grey's scar. 'And fuck all of my boyfriends in your blood.' His eyes flash but I'm not done. 'Then,' I pause, smiling. 'I'll pay Whittingham a visit and deliver your pathetic excuse for a penis to him to use as a coffee stirrer.' Pulling back, I raise my arm, letting the scissors go with a crash. They bounce off the top of the desk, making him fly backwards in his chair. 'Put the fucking scissors away,' I scold him. 'Before someone uses them.' Turning, I head to the door, pulling it open. To my surprise, the guard isn't waiting in the hallway. I close the door behind me while I quickly figure out my next steps. The guys are probably in their rooms and I don't have the staff card on me to enter the dorm. It also means I can't get back to my room either. I'm not safe out here. Elsher is probably already on the phone, calling for guards and backup. I need to get out of here before I find myself in solitary confinement-or prison since the door is out of action. The library is too obvious. That's probably the first place the guards will search. I could hide in Dr. Smith's office but that would look suss. Markel is an option but if the guards come for me, I doubt he'd fight to keep me there. There's really only one option. One safe place where they probably won't think to look. Plus... it has certain benefits for me. My feet start moving quickly, eyes checking for approaching bodies until I slip through the doors. The sound of my footsteps resemble a racing heart, erratically moving as I slip through another closed door. 'For fuck sake! Who hasn't put the water on?' It takes them a few seconds in the chaos before someone finally spots me lingering by the door. Like a domino effect, they stop-one by one, glancing at me with uncertainty and confusion. I give them a small smile before I round the countertop and approach the loud voice. 'Hello, Tony.' He glances up, a large knife in his hand as he frantically chops greens-well, brownish looking greens. 'What can I do for you?' he growls, unfazed by my presence. 'It's not the best time. We're getting ready for the lunch rush.' I nod, completely understanding. 'I'm not here to place an order,' I tell him, walking over to one of his nearby colleagues. The younger cook is dishing out bowls of spaghetti bolognese for the kitchen staff, her eyes wide with apprehension as she watches me approach. 'Can I have a bowl?' I ask, tilting my head toward one. 'S-sure,' she mutters quietly, looking over my head at Tony for double reassurance. He must shrug or wave her off because no one says anything as I reach for one, also pinching a clean fork from a pile. 'I'm not here,' I tell them all, heading toward the large walk-in freezer. 'You never saw me.' I don't wait for their reply, grabbing a can of pop from the fridge before slipping inside the cold box and taking a seat on an empty vegetable container. And just like that, I enjoy a well-deserved delicious meal in silence until Grey finds me a little while later. Being cold was a small price to pay for freedom. It tasted just as good as the fresh pasta I devoured. But nothing compares to the euphoric feeling of replaying the look of fear in Elsher's eyes when he realized I was becoming his worst nightmare. Maybe Damon was onto something-having people fear you is a rush I never knew I'd love.