I meticulously fold my paper plate into a pie shape and move it and my milk carton to the table. He’s right beside me now but still hasn’t looked my way. I grab the empty tray with both hands, stand up, rear both arms back, and let ’er rip.
Smack!
He grunts as the tray makes contact with his head. I’m so fast that he doesn’t even get a hand up to help protect his gorgeous face.
Shouting sounds off all around me, and I’m only able to get in one more half-cocked whack before something presses into my side, and my body lights up with pain.
I drop to the ground and fold in on myself, electricity and satisfaction surging through me. I clench my teeth as my vision tunnels, and all I can see are pairs of black combat boots as they step into my shrinking line of sight right before I pass out.
3
I smack my lips together to combat the dry cardboard thing currently going on in my mouth. A rhythmic beeping calls my attention, but the feel of cold metal around both of my wrists seems like the more pressing issue to focus on. I groan and work to force my heavy lids open. I blink the room into focus and then jump when I realize there’s someone standing close to me...just watching. Creepy.
She has skin the color of cream with Kool-Aid red hair and brows. The intricate braids in her tresses and the pointy tips of her ears give her away as fae. But the vicious vertical scar that starts mid-forehead and runs down past her left eye, ending at the apple of her cheek, is not something most fae would have. Fae are vain as fuck, and they also have healers, so the scar on this female’s face, along with the glint of mania in her jade green eyes, immediately sets off the beeping monitor that’s recording my now rapidly pacing heart.
She watches me with cold interest. I’m not sure what to make of it. I test the cuffs around my wrists, and a clang fills the room. Yep, I’m definitely shackled to a bed.
“My name is Dr. Brina. You’re in the medical ward of Nightmare Penitentiary,” she tells me in her smooth feminine voice.
I look around at the gray stone walls and floor. I guess I’ll just have to take her word for it, because nothing about this place—well, aside from the hospital bed and the heart monitor—screams medical ward to me.
“Do you often suffer from psychotic episodes?” Dr. Brina asks me, her head tilting in a creepy way as she waits for me to answer. She must read the confusion on my face, because she elaborates. “You attacked a guard...unprovoked.”
Ah. That.
“He’s a cockatrice,” I tell her, like that explains it all. My voice is scratchy, and my throat hurts, and I look around hopefully for a glass of water, but there isn’t one.
Her scarred eyebrow lifts in question. “You are the same species, and that is what motivated your attack?” she presses, clearly not understanding my explanation.
I shrug, not willing to get into it with a weird stranger who’s looking at me like a bug she wants to pull the legs off of under a microscope.
“Well, you seem to be recovered,” she tells me, and I can’t help but notice the tinge of disappointment in her tone. She pulls a light from her pocket and flashes it in my eyes. I blink through the brightness, flinching slightly at the burn as my pupils contract.
“You had a few bruises on your ribs from where the guards kicked you, but those are all healed up now,” she states in an oddly cheerful tone as she steps away. “Apparently, you slept right through that beating, so we’ll have to make sure you’re awake for the next one.”
That announcement has my head snapping in her direction, and she gives me a wink as she walks over to the door and opens it. Fluorescent hair, angry turquoise eyes, and plump lips glower at me from the other side.
Shit.
“You’ll learn very quickly here at Nightmare Penitentiary that the staff looks out for our own.” She turns to the guard I brained with a cafeteria tray. “If you plan to beat her to the point of unconsciousness, I simply ask that you have her drink what’s in the vial before she passes out. I’m sure she has very filling dreams, and I could always use a good meal.”