VIOLA
By the next day, Dr. Shalpert hasn’t made any indication my answers have swayed him into believing I’m clinically unstable. That’s fine. It just means I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.
One of the orderlies takes me to the dining room for breakfast. The residents, that’s what they call us here, are already sitting down to eat or lined at the serving hatch to get their food. I already know the utensils are plastic, as are the trays and tables. Nothing is breakable or can be made into a weapon.
Unless you know what to look for.
Once the orderly who escorted me has taken his place on the far side of the wall, I line up and grab some food and then head over to my table.
The girl with braids in her hair, dark gray eyes, and pale skin, known as Raine to the everyone in here, shoves me forward as she’s walking past with her tray. Killing Griffin has started a chain reaction of hostility within the ranks of his crew.
“Watch where you’re fucking going, stupid bitch,” Raine snipes, even though she’s the one who veered into me.
I don’t react. I calmly wait until she’s sitting at her own table with a bunch of guys. I get to my feet and make my way to the self-serve counter where residents can pour themselves a hot drink. There is a dispenser that has boiling water in it and a row of cups with teabags or coffee granules in them. I palm a few packets of the sugar while filling a cup of hot water and then empty the packets into the water.
Lorcan was the one who suggested I try and recruit Griffin’s old crew in here, but he’s not the one getting dark, dead-girl-walking looks. I’ve been here for two weeks, mostly in isolation until now, just waiting for them to make their move.
They’ll want revenge. I would.
So I need to show them I’m not to be messed with.
I head back to my table, taking the route back that brings me behind Raine’s chair. She doesn’t move fast enough. I chuck the hot water at the back of her neck. The sugar acts as an acid, eating into her skin.
“What the fu—” She screeches, clawing at her neck. The guys at her table don’t waste time getting to their feet. One of them lunges for me, the one built like a tank. I shove my palm into his face, arm ramrod straight, breaking his nose with a delicious sounding crush. I kick him in the balls, and he joins Raine on the floor, who is still whimpering and rolling around like she’s on fire.
Someone pounces on me from behind, pinning my arms in a bear hug. “I’ve got her!” The one holding me shouts, while the toned, floppy-haired guy with slitted eyes produces a shiv from somewhere hidden and stalks up in my face. I hook my foot around his leg as the one holding me tries to pick me up. He tightens his grip around my body in response.
“Jordan, gut the bitch,” Raine, clutching the back of her neck, trying to get to her feet, hisses at the floppy-haired guy with the sharpened bit of plastic in his hand advancing on me.
“I’m going to hurt you for what you did to Grif,” Jordan promises, a shitty smile easing onto his lips.
I’m a seething ball of rage when he gets within spitting distance. The darkness that’s been waiting to erupt, to be let loose, seethes under my skin.
“Do it,” I taunt, matching him for twisted insanity on my face. It’s not the first time I’ve wanted one of these fucktards to hurt me. My darkness wants to feel something other than this. “Gut me, go on.”
He hesitates at that.
Interesting. He might be a gang leader in here, but he’s a reluctant one. I can always tell the ones with morals.
“Kill me if you have the balls,” I snarl.
Jordan snorts and pockets his makeshift weapon instead, slamming a blow into the side of my head. Pain explodes across my cheek and eye socket, and my head snaps to the side. My vision falters. Blood fills my mouth where my teeth clamped down on my tongue.
“You’re lucky. He wants you alive,” he growls.
I flash an insane grin at him, licking my lips, whispering something inaudible.
He frowns and steps closer. Good. “What the fuck did you say?”
I say it louder for the kids in the back. And because he’s close enough. “Not as lucky as you will be.”
There’s a shout as the orderlies finally get their asses in gear to stop the fight. Jordan’s gaze slides to them approaching, just as the rest of his crew and the crowd of teenagers watching disperses.
“Fuck, they’re here,” says the guy behind me, relaxing ever so slightly. Now.
I throw my head back, elbows wide enough to force him to let go. Then I launch myself at Jordan, and we both hit the floor. Like a switch, I let the darkness out to play. He grapples with me, trying to hold me back. I scream and bite. There’s blood in my mouth, soft flesh between my teeth, and nothing but rage consuming me from within. It takes several of the orderlies to pull me off and haul me away, screaming and spitting blood that I’m going to kill them all.
If that doesn’t get me sent to the other side, fuck knows what will…