CHAPTER 3
"What do you think you're doing in here?" I reluctantly turned around, not wanting to face the person behind me. Once I did, though, I was a little relieved. It was a middle aged red-haired woman. I had never seen her before in my life.
"I'm sorry, it was my lunch break so I was just having a look around."
"Well you're not allowed to be in here," she said in a condescending tone.
"Oh, I'm sorry." I quickly scurried away, trying to avoid any more conversation. I hope she didn't tell Mrs. Hellman of my whereabouts. But then again, she hadn't even asked for my name.
I walked the long way back to the nurses office, glad to just have a moment to sit down and relaxed. For some reason I felt tired and needed to get a small rest. But as I stepped into the main part of the building, I looked at the clock. It was noon, which meant I had to go supervise while the patients at lunch again. I groaned in dread as I realized a certain curly-haired criminal would be there.
I reluctantly shuffled down the hall and swung open the cafeteria doors. Nobody payed any attention to me, as usual, and they all went about their activities. I made my way to the back so I could easily watch over the patients. It was a simple job, really. People didn't act out as much as you'd think, but when they did, the security would always get there before me. I would just have to sedate them or find a way to calm them down if needed.
Hopefully I wouldn't have to do that today, though, because I was dead tired. I didn't know why but it seemed that with every passing second I grew more and more exhausted. I slumped back against the wall and felt my eyelids getting heavy. But they suddenly snapped open when I heard a husky voice beside me. "Hey."
I turned abruptly to see Harry right next to me, copying my stance, resting his back against the wall. A cigarette was hanging out of the corner of his mouth which made his masculine jawline more prominent. The pack the smoke had came from was being held in one of his large hands. I had to fight the urge to turn and run, our previous encounter not forgotten.
"You want one?" he asked, captivating eyes motioning toward his cigarette.
"No, I don't smoke," I said, my tone a little more unfriendly than I had expected.
He shrugged and set the pack on a table nearby. "So, Rose - that is your name right?"
I nodded.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"I'm twenty-two."
"Why are you talking to me?" I asked abruptly. He was a little taken back and raised his eyebrows, only to have them come back together in thought.
"I don't know," he shrugged. "The guards are no fun to talk to and everyone else in here is insane."
"Oh, so you're not insane?"
"I never said that."
I didn't reply as he took a long drag of his cigarette with the color of it looking whiter as usual against his rosy lips. "So why are you so afraid of me? You have no reason to be, you know."
I shook my head, confused. The reasons were obvious. "Well for starters you skinned three women-"
"And you believe that?" Harry interrupted, raising an eyebrow again.
"Yeah, why else would you be in an institution for the criminally insane?"
He looked like he was about to interject, but I continued before he could. "And who said I was afraid of you anyway?"
I was afraid, but I didn't want him to know that. I didn't want him to think I was weak. The only people I feared were Harry and Mrs. Hellman, but in completely different ways. Other than that I considered myself pretty brave.
"It's obvious."
"How?"
"Well," he said as he slid his pink tongue out across his lips. "I've been watching you a lot since I've been here and-"
"Wait, what do you mean you've been watching me?" The thought of his dark green eyes following me without my noticing sent shivers up and down my spine.
"I mean I've been looking at you. Just been watching you stand here."
"Why?" I wondered.
"Well, it's kind of hard not to. I mean you're beautiful," he said, that stupid seductive smirk of his taking over his features. I tried not to let the comment affect me, but wasn't successful. I could feel my cheeks get hot and knew they were bright red. Harry seemed to notice as his smirk grew wider with amusement as he continued to speak.
"But anyway, I've seen you talk to the other patients. You love them, I can tell. You're the most friendly employee I've seen so far, but to me you're really distant. You're closed off, you have your guard up. You've never said a word to me before today. It means you're afraid." He let out a big puff of smoke as he slowly exhaled. I detested smoking. It smelled awful and it felt gross breathing it in. But that didn't terminate the fact that Harry looked so sexy doing it. I still hated him though. I didn't know why. Maybe it was his tone of voice, how he took everything so casually and acted like everyone was inferior to him. Not in the normal snobby way, but in a way that was more intimidating, like he knew nobody wanted to mess with him.
"So I'm antisocial, distant, and unfriendly towards you? Harry, you've only been here a week and I've barely even talked to you," I pointed out.
"Exactly. You talk to everyone but me. I knew it couldn't have been the fact that you don't like me, because you barely even knew me. So it must've been that you were scared."
"Yeah well now I know you and I still hate you." I spoke harshly. I don't know what it was that made me act this way towards him. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. He was a murderer.
Harry tilted his head back laughing. "Mmm, you're feisty too," he hummed. His bottom lip came between his teeth as his dark eyes scanned my body, indulging in my appearance. His emerald gaze eventually came back to my face. "I like that."
I made a disgusted sound. I could not stand him. I was about to say something extremely rude but Harry spoke first.
"Well, it was nice talking to you Rose. I'll see you around," he winked, putting his cigarette back between his lips. He pushed his body off the wall and I was left alone. My eyes followed as I watched him stroll away without a care in the world, his tall frame towering over everyone else in the room.
I was lying in my bed, relieved to finally be home. I lived alone in a small apartment in the heart of London. It was cozy and warm and has pretty tight security, so I liked it. Even in this nice place, though, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. I had the black and white television on so that my thoughts would be filled with the images on screen and not anything else that might delay my sleep. It didn't work. I couldn't even tell you what show I was watching because I wasn't paying any attention. Instead I thought of the opposite of what I wanted, but I couldn't get it out of my head.
Harry.
No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, he scared me. I knew I shouldn't be scared; he was contained in the institution. He would never be able to cause any danger with all of the security and nurses in that loony bin. And yet, I was still afraid.
That's what I felt towards him; fear. It's not because of what he's done. That's over with and has already happened, and fear isn't really about things that have happened. It's about things that might. It's about not knowing what will happen, not knowing what someone's capable of. It's about not being able to know your fate. With Harry being around, seeming to keep his eyes on me, I had no idea where things would end up. Nothing would probably come out of it, yet I still couldn't seem to shake my fright.
But unease isn't the only thing I felt towards Harry. There was something else there, too, something almost completely opposite that I couldn't put my finger on. Maybe it was curiosity, or lust. He definitely held an alluring quality that I couldn't get past. Everything from his strong jawline to his astonishing height or lean, muscular body. It could also be his perfect tanned skin or his deep green eyes or the puffiness of his full lips, and how he would swipe his pink tongue across them as he spoke. Or his stunning protruding collarbones, or the way he seductively dragged his cigarette, slowly puffing out a trail of smoke with each breath. Not to mention that thick dark hair that would feel so good to run your fingers through so that they drown in his soft locks. And the deep, husky gravel of his rumbling voice.
Okay no, stop, I told myself. He's a murderer. Ugh, why did he have to be so damn attractive? Such a beautiful body wasted on a sick creep of a man. Oh yeah, and hatred. I felt a whole lot of that as well. This one was tricky, because I didn't really know why. I've always looked past things patients have done, knowing the past was past, and that they were insane and were getting help. They were just sick, and needed to be mentally cured. But with Harry I just despised him. Maybe it was the way he was so confident, almost like he was proud of what he did. He was so smug and had a cocky way about him. He didn't even really show signs of insanity, so it was like he had done those horrible acts consciously, unlike most patients. It also annoyed me that he had made me blush. Whether I was mad at him or myself for that, I didn't really know. But Harry knew exactly what he was doing, and I know it was crazy, but in a way I felt like I had been manipulated. Almost like that gave him conformation that he was in control.
And yet, despite my fears and loathing, my dreams were filled of nothing else but the insane and beautiful man.