I can't fucking believe James. Who does he think he is? Just because he was a guard doesn't mean that he can talk down to me, especially not like he did. And to act like he had some claim over Rose, like he could tell me what and what not to do when it came to her, was infuriating. Just because they went on one date didn't mean he owned her. But it wasn't just what he said that bothered me. It was the fact that he acted so innocent and gallant when he was really just a coward. He had Rose fooled, but I knew better. And I knew that my suspicions didn't provide as much evidence as I would've liked, but something was off.
Even if he didn't kill anybody, he was up to something. I was sure of it. My certainty that he was the murderer was slowly dwindling down, though. Rose had been right, I didn't have any evidence of his crimes. I just hated him. James was only one of the many possibilities. It could be an employee on a different floor. It could be someone we are completely overlooking . . .
But James still bothered me to no end, murderer or not.
He was just one more irritation added to the list of reasons why I hate it here. I had to get out of Wickendale, I knew that. I couldn't stay here for the rest of my life. I would find a way out, eventually. I needed to. But for the time being I would just have to put up with it. I would have to endure all the horrors encased in this building: the guards, the shitty food, the dirt and dust, the annoying therapists. And who knows, I might even have to be put through electroshock therapy or get whipped or something; I mean I had already gone to solitary confinement.
But until I found a way to break out of here, I had to remain as I was. I had to stay the man I'd been when I arrived, the man who skins women; or else I would surely break. I had to stay the most dangerous patient in this ward.
Wickendale was hell; and I had to be the devil.
I made my way back towards the cafeteria with my heart thumping in my chest like a hammer against my ribcage. I can't believe I had been weak and subjected to Harry's strength. Nobody can say Harry doesn't scare them, but I thought I would be able to hold my own. I guess not seeing that I was trembling with fear. He was frighteningly strong and had anger that you could almost feel rolling off of him in dangerous waves.
But what I said was a little uncalled for and I can see why Harry hates me. I was just worried about Rose, and I wanted Harry to stay away from her. He was dangerous and I didn't want anything bad to happen. He may think Rose is being naive to trust me, but he hadn't been there for most of our conversations. He hadn't been there on our walks home from work where talks are filled with her beautiful laugh and warming smile. He wasn't there when we went out to dinner and shared embarrassing date stories while laughing like idiots over delicious food.
And I didn't want him to intervene, especially not in a negative way. But I couldn't help it if they talked, that was Rose's choice, not mine. So for now I would just have to keep an eye on Harry to make sure he didn't do anything to harm her, or anyone for that matter.
But even if he did act out, I had a bad feeling that I wouldn't be able to stop him if I tried.
I walked through the doors of Wickendale the next morning with one goal in mind; to get a day off. I was working 12 hour days 5 days a week to save up for a car and better apartment, but it was more than I needed. I know I had weekends, but those seem all too short, going by in a blink of an eye. It was barely enough relief from this hectic and sometimes unnerving institution and an extra day off would be invigorating.