She rolls her eyes and walks out of the room.
I catch up to her in the corridor, wrapping an arm around her waist. One of the nurses is watching us as she heads to Byron’s room. I give her something to look at and drag Viola’s annoyed face toward me by her chin and lick away the snarl from her lips.
“They’re watching,” she hisses.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I answer back. And I don’t. This place is a joke. No one fucking cares.
To prove a point, I drag Viola into my room with the nurse frowning but doing nothing to stop us.
The next day,while I stand behind Viola while she gets her breakfast, the nurse is still watching us, and so is fucking Bateman. The pervert has had a hard-on for her since he saw her. It’s why I didn’t leave her side once when she was vulnerable and drugged up to her eyeballs. I won’t shed a tear if she kills him.
“So what now?” I say to her as we take a seat with our trays loaded with spaghetti and tomato sauce.
“You need to do what you did to Byron another five more days,” she says, popping her juice carton with a straw with more force than necessary.
I glare at her. “You left that part out, didn’t you?”
She ignores my comment, twisting the spaghetti around her plastic fork. “Today is Monday. He should wake up on Friday.”
“You’re meant to switch back on Friday,” I remind her.
“We are switching back. You’re not staying here.”
“We’ll see about that,” I grind out, pushing my food around my plate. I’m not hungry. My head is starting to pound, and my mouth is dry as fuck. I knock back my juice, emptying the carton in one go. Then I get to my feet.
Viola’s gaze follows me up. “Where are you going?”
“Fucking anywhere. I need to get the hell out of here.”
I leave Viola to her meal and head to the dispensary. The redhead nurse who usually sorts me out isn’t on today, so I kind of just stand there staring at the fucking door until I realize how obvious I look.
Fuck this shit. How dare she come in here and ruin fucking everything.
I go to the only place I know that might have what I need—Viola’s room. I search high and fucking low, tearing the bed sheets off, emptying the bin, even living loose fucking floorboards. It’s not here, which means she has it on her.
I run my hands through my hair, chewing my lip as I survey the mess I’ve made. I don’t hear her come in, but I sense her in the same room after a dozen ragged breathes.
“How bad is it?” There’s no worry or sympathy in her voice, just a cold, hard question. I’m grateful for it. It makes it easier to look at her when I turn around.
Her face is unreadable. Fuck knows what she’s thinking.
I shake my head, rubbing my hands through my hair, trying to calm my manic heart.
“I can’t do this,” I say to her, honestly.
She narrows her eyes. “What will help?”
“Nothing, nothing will fucking help,” I snort. After a few seconds, I sit down on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame.
Viola comes over and does the same. She doesn’t try to touch me or talk to me. She just sits next to me and sighs out loud. I’m sweating profusely now, feeling like I’m about to have a heart attack. Great. Here it fucking goes. Great ready to have the ride of your damn life Marques.
“Well, this is fucking boring,” she says after a minute of me breathing hard.
The laugh sticks in my throat. It is. It’s fucking boring, and I never wanted to show this amazing, beautiful, deadly girl, this pathetic, screwed-up side of me.
But what choice do I have?
“Distract me,” I say to her after a minute.
“We’re not doing anal without lube,” she says as matter of fact.
I give her a smirk. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that’s the last thing I want to do.”
She glances over and nods like she understands, eyes practically fucking glowing. “Then how about we kill someone?”