Page 1 of Twisted Heathens
Prologue
Brooklyn
Had Enough by Mouth Culture
“Brooklyn? I’ve been calling you for ten minutes,” Nurse Jackie shouts.
I roll onto my side, frowning at the drooling guy stretched out on the sofa across from me. Fucking newbie, he just swallowed the pills and passed out. What a damn waste.
“And I’ve been ignoring you for ten minutes,” I drone.
She stops at the end of the sofa and glares down at me, patience utterly spent. “You can’t continue to treat this place like a bloody joke, Brooklyn. Get up, now.”
“Why should I?”
“The doctor is expecting you.”
I flip onto my back and glare at her. “It’s not my therapy day.”
Nurse Jackie crosses her arms, peering down her nose at me. “Do I look like I care, missy? Don’t give me that, get your butt up or it’s another weekend in solitary.”
Terror runs down my spine. I drag myself up and follow her, fearing the consequences. I can’t go back there after last time. Death is fucking preferable. She guides me to the nearby shrink’s office and lets me in, where I take my usual seat.
The office chair spins to reveal Doctor Zimmerman, finishing up his telephone call. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Augustus. I’ll be in touch.”
The phone is returned to its cradle and Zimmerman stares down his nose at me, sliding those ugly spectacles down to give me his full, unwavering attention. Man, I want to crush those glasses under my boot.
His lips move, but nothing comes out. Ringing fills my ears as I stare at the wall behind him; thick, treacle-like shadows dripping down and pooling on the ground. They whisper at me, my hands trembling in my lap.
Fucking Zimmerman, he’s a son of a bitch.
Take the paperweight and smash his head in.
“Brooklyn? Are you even listening to me?”
My eyes snap up and the shadows are suddenly gone, leaving nothing but clean, bright white wall behind.
“Brooklyn! I’ve given you time to think. I need your answer.”
I glance away and focus my gaze out of the barred window. My eyes track the path of the falling raindrops. When was the last time I felt rain on my face? Or wind in my hair? I lick my lips. Breathe. Blink. Fidget. Anything not to reply to this asshole.
“Your attitude isn’t necessary. We’re on the same side here.”
The need to laugh bubbles up inside of me. Smirking, I turn my attention to my hands. Nails bloody and chewed down, knuckles bruised and scarred. The obvious tremble that comes with my heavy dose of medication.
“You aren’t leaving the room until we discuss this offer. Take your time.”
So be it. I can sit here all goddamn day in silence.
Zimmerman sighs, gently placing the pen down and lacing his fingers together. He refuses to look away from me or take no for an answer. Why can’t he just give up on me already? I’m a lost cause. I want to scream in his face, tell him to stop trying to fix me.
“You are going to rot in here for the rest of your life if you don’t accept the board of directors’ offer. I cannot stress enough how precious this chance is. Don’t waste it,” he implores.
Chewing my ragged nails, I savour the bite of pain and coppery tang of blood. “Why shouldn’t I waste it?”
Zimmerman shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “Because you have potential. Don’t allow the past to control your future.”
“I don’t have a future. That’s what the court said when they sent me to you,” I point out.