offense, instead of defense, I grit my teeth and use all my strength to push out of the wheelchair. My legs shake with fatigue, and my body is already screaming in pain from being forced to get up on my own, without the help of anyone else. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my heart pounds as my gaze darts around us. I need to find a way to strike first before she closes in on me.
“What are they paying you?”
“I’m being given my freedom. Can’t say the same for you.” She smirks, sliding out a plastic knitting needle that’s been shaved into a weapon from the waistband of her pants. I glance behind her, toward the door, wondering where Stephanie or Gary is.
Slowly, as not to startle her, I take cautious steps back, away from her, putting as much distance between us as I can. Every bone is screaming in pain. It’s too soon to be standing on my own, but I have no other choice. And I bet they were banking on that. Both of them. On me being too weak to protect myself or fight back.
Jones smirks, closing in on me. I back away, my cast on my left leg pounding against the linoleum with each stomp back. I maneuver my body around the table, trying to keep something between us, so she can’t get her hands on me. Whether that’s the table or my wheelchair, I don’t care at this point. She jolts forward and strikes at me. I jerk back, feeling the breeze of the sharp tool near my body. Searing heat flares in my side from the quick movement, but if I don’t keep up, if I don’t fight past the pain, she’s going to sink that plastic in me, and I’ll really be hearing from Madison, sooner rather than later.
She strikes again, and my back collides into the case of books. I eye the room frantically, looking for something I can use to protect myself with. There’s nothing. She jabs again, and I dart away, this time crashing into the table with my hip. I let out a cry of agony, and I’m momentarily stunned as my body works to process the sudden jar of pain. She comes at me, striking down with the needle, and I throw out my cast, knocking her arm away.
She lets out a hiss and dives for me, but I throw up my casted arm again, this time, slamming it in her face and dazing her. Before I can think better of it, I use the chair and table to my advantage as I climb back to my feet and I push off, jumping on her while she’s down. I toss all my weight down on her back, keeping her body immobile. She swings around wildly while I hold on, using my cast around her neck as leverage. She jabs back at me with the tool, and I let out a cry of pain as I tighten my casted arm around her neck and squeeze, trying to choke her unconscious. My vision starts to blur as the pain from me overexerting my body threatens to pull me under.
One moment, I’m hanging on to her neck and squeezing for dear life, and the next, there’s shouting and the sound of banging on the door she barricaded closed. I’m just about to scream my rejoice that someone has found us when she gets the upper hand, and I’m flung off her back. My body sails through the air, and my stomach churns as the fluorescent lights blur around me. I see the edge of the table coming toward me as I sail toward the ground, but I can’t stop it. The only thing I feel is blinding, mind-numbing pain, then I’m swallowed up by the darkness.
After two weeks of waiting and days and endless nights of getting no sleep, I finally dropped two million for funding, and that was my ticket into the institution. Even though we knew where she was physically, I wasn’t her family, so I couldn’t visit her. I had no reason for the mental institution to welcome me in, so I bought my way in.
The second we pull into the front of the institution, my face sours. It’s not bad as far as facilities go, but it’s not great either, and the idea of her being here for an unassuming amount of time doesn’t sit well with me. Despite all the shitty things she’s done, she