CHAPTER 44
HARRY'S POV
Wickendale was infested with guards and employees and staff. Like the bugs in the cracks of the building's walls, crawling through narrow halls and vast corridors. If Rose and I simply "made a run for it," getting caught by one of them was inevitable. Sure, there was a chance we could outrun them, but it was very slim. Two patients feverishly running for their lives would go unnoticed only by a miracle. And we didn't have a miracle to waste.
But a patient and a guard would scarcely be questioned. So that is why I had to kill James. Putting him asleep with a sedative might have worked, but I was fresh out of drug-filled needles. So Option B; kill him and increase our chances of escaping immensely. Or at least, that's the reason I gave myself for wanting him dead.
When James spun around, unable to react before I delivered that first punch, the tearing pain in my knuckles from the bones underneath his skin felt invigorating. This was because my success meant we were closer to escaping. This was because each time he staggered backward meant we were closer to leaving this place.
I kept telling this to myself. And so, what if I felt a small excitement and joy knowing I was about to kill the man in front of me? It was gratifying because I was finally getting revenge on the person who had almost single-handedly destroyed the only two people I've ever loved. He fucked with my life and now I was going to end his.
But even still, even after all of these excuses I gave myself, I knew that it wasn't all. Apart from the longing to leave and apart from the revenge, there was something else.
I looked to James as he was now, hand rubbing his jaw. His eyes were wide and confused as he saw me standing there before him.
"Wha"- he started as my fist pounded against the opposite side. And it hurt my hand like hell, but the alarming pain felt good knowing that James had it worse. His head spun back and a few drops of blood spewed from his mouth. His body staggered again but his mind thought quickly, hand moving to the small gun at his hip. I was faster, though.
My foot came up and kicked it from his wrist before he could fully raise it. The gun clattered to the floor. James grunted at the impact and held his wrist in one hand to ease the pain. But he knew better than that, quickly releasing it to defend himself with both hands. Now he was ready to fight back. He knew what I was doing and he would try to stop it. I had something he didn't, though. I had fresh adrenaline pumping through me and the urgency of escape cutting through my mind. I had anger, and I had a purpose. All the reason he had for fighting was to defend himself. And that wouldn't be enough to save him.
"Harry, stop," he demanded, his voice strong. "You don't want to do this. Let me take you back to your cell."
I couldn't help the chuckle that came from deep in my chest, a smirk curving my lips. Take me back to my cell? Was he serious?
And then I delivered another punch.
This time James didn't question it or sit in his daze of surprise. This time he acted, and it caught me off guard. The hardness of his fist came back at me, hitting the side of my face with enough force to make me stumble backward. My cheek stung. Did he just fucking hit me? The pain to my jaw confirmed that he did, provoking my anger. It started somewhere deep within me, boiling up in hot whips. A blazing fire that erupted in just seconds. After all he had taken from me, after all he had put me through, put Emily through, and put Rose through, he thinks he has the right to lay a fucking finger on me. My fists clenched and my jaw grew tight and my muscles grew taut. I turned my head to the ground and spit out the blood, quickly, though, so that I could turn back to James. Fucking James.
I stepped to him and brought my fist backward, swinging it at him with all of the force and speed that my anger could conjure up. My knuckles smashed into him with a satisfying crunch, while I could feel his bone crack beneath my fist.
And that was the last reality I remembered. That image of this man who had brought me so much hatred, so much anger, and so much pain. But suddenly he blurred into a different man who had executed the same malicious actions. Suddenly he was not a guard dressed in a deep blue uniform. Instead his hair turned dark like mine. His frame grew taller and his body became bigger. An unshaven shadow grew near his jaw and deep wrinkles drew themselves along his features. He seemed to have aged twenty years within seconds.
Suddenly he was not James Hellman, but he was my father. I was not looking at a guard in front of Wickendale's dreary backdrop, but my old house behind my father laying drunkenly asleep on the couch. Cuts on his knuckles, broken bottles on the floor, and a match in my hand. He had beaten my loving mother countless times, most of them a result of her trying to defend me. But there were times when she failed, times when I received bruises and injuries of my own. This monster not only abused his wife but his only son, sometimes to the point of hospitalization. Back then for the first time and now for the second, I decided I was done with hospitals.
In that moment I was in reality but also in the past. I was lighting the match, and I was smashing James' head against the wall. I threw the coiling flame onto the sick man's stained t-shirt while I shoved the guard's body to the floor.
But I was also somewhere else, someplace that was not the past nor present but something eternal within myself. I was excited. I was overjoyed, with a twisted happiness conjured up from seeing their end. All of their mistakes, all of their malevolent acts, all of their sickening crimes, deteriorating in smoking fire and trickling blood. And it was my doing.
In both places I stood back to see what I had done. My father was yelling and thrashing while his skin burned, the damage already done beyond repair. And James lied unconscious on the floor. His jaw was off-putting and his nose was crooked. His head was twisted at an unusual angle, dark red blood oozing along the whole horrid picture.
Some part of me that was not right showed itself through my satisfied smile. Daddy was dead and so was pretty-boy James, finally receiving the pain that they had inflicted on others.
Soon I returned to full reality, not quite sure of what I had done but also quite sure that James was dead. I hooked my arms behind the man's shoulders, dragging him along with his blood and broken features out of sight.
ROSE'S POV
I was worried sick. Literally. My stomach was doing flips and a nauseating wave washed over me. Every slight sound made me jump and every second was more nerve-wracking than the last. I was counting the seconds until Harry finally entered that door in what felt like an agonizing eternity. My hand gripped the table where two bags lied to try and steady my jittery anticipation. To get my mind of things I just looked at those bags.
Thank the heavens for Kelsey and Lori's help, because they had provided them for us. Each were filled with a set of clothes, quite a bit of cash, essentials like tooth brushes and tampons, water bottles, and some food. It was quite a lot of things for two small backpack-style bags, but I wasn't complaining.
What I would complain about, though, was Harry's slow return. When the hell would he finally get here? It's been well over twenty minutes, and I didn't want to ponder the thought of Harry psychically murdering someone for much longer.
Suddenly the door swung open. I gulped, afraid of who was on the opposite side. My heart beat in my chest and sunk when I saw the familiar uniform of a guard, this man wearing even the matching police hat that only about half of the employees seemed to wear. The dark blue was unmistakeable. A guard sent here to ruin our plan.
But soon my heart rate slowed back to normal, my hands becoming more still rather than having a jittery shake to them. Because those curls that poked out from underneath the hat, that tall muscular frame, and that excited little smirk couldn't be from just anyone. And nobody else could look so sexy in one of those unflattering guard outfits.
"That's amazing," I stated without thinking. Harry shut the door behind him quietly when he approached.
"You look just like a guard. With all of the lights off, nobody will know the difference."
"That was the point, love," he said with a teasing smile. I couldn't help but smile back. Everything had worked out perfectly so far, and I was slightly relieved. Killing James to get the uniform had been a more simple task than I thought.
But I had to ask. "So did you, uh-" I started.
"Yeah," Harry answered quietly. "He's dead."
Oh. The room fell silent for a moment. But just for a moment, seeing as we didn't have much time to waste. "Come on," Harry said. Before he finished he looked at the table, noticing a pack of cigarettes and lighter set apart from the bags, probably also a courtesy of either Lori or Kelsey. With a smile he shoved the cigarettes into the bag and the lighter into his pocket. "Hold the bags behind you back like this," he continued. "I'll grab your wrists from behind so they'll be mostly covered, especially in the dark."
I nodded, doing as instructed. I let Harry hold my wrists behind my back while I grabbed the bags in my hands between us. If the power remained off while the bags and Harry's face stayed hidden in the absence of light, we should be able to slip by without much question. Two patients were dangerous, but a guard escorting a patient was a dangerous matter already taken care of.
"Ready?" he asked. I nodded, knowing that nothing could prepare me for what was about to happen. "Alright, just be calm and follow my lead. We'll be out of here in no time, Rose, I promise."
His voice was comforting and I believed him. But that didn't change the anxious wave that passed over me when we stepped beyond Kelsey's office. Out into Wickendale's halls. Harry in his disguise and me in my usual uniform, exposed to anyone that might pass by.
After hours of studying a detailed map, the both of us began through the known twists and turns of the halls to get to Ward C. Each step felt like an eternity, as if it were quicksand we were walking through.
We turned a corner, and there, at the end of the hall, was an employee. I needed Harry's comforting words, but he couldn't provide any. I couldn't see him behind me, the only evidence that he was there being his body heat and calloused hands on my wrists. But like always, he found a way to reassure me by subtly rubbing his thumb along the skin, as if telling me it was okay to keep going. So I did.
Step after step was taken and the girl, an attendant, was only a few yards away. I could feel Harry's worry mix with my own in the air between us. But it was unnecessary, for the woman passed us without hardly a glance. Phew.
Then again, a few halls later. A guard passed by, gave a skeptical look, but then proceeded. Nobody had picked out Harry's unforgettable features under the dim red glow, thinking he was simply taking me to my cell and doing his job. My shoulders relaxed more with each employee that walked by. Harry's plan had worked like a charm, and I could only imagine the amount of hiding and running and trouble we would find ourselves in without it. There were more people scampering around and trying to place some order on this power-out madness than I thought.
One of these people had been Brian. And that created obvious worry. Because he knew me, he knew Harry, and he knew what we were up to. His eyes squinted as he looked through the dark into Harry's face. Yeah, he knew.
Harry and I both began to panic, I was sure, at the sight. But Brian did not stop. He looked at Harry and he knew this wasn't right and he passed us by anyway. It was as if he somehow knew that letting us pass by was the right thing to do. I always knew I like Brian.
I wanted to ask Harry what he thought that was all about, but I couldn't risk it. Plus, there was another guard nearing us in the next corridor. And he was no Brian.
"Hey," he said to Harry, as if accusing him of doing something wrong. Shit shit shit shit shit. "What are you doing?"
The guard didn't look familiar. Obviously he was someone of more importance than just any guard. Possibly the head of Wickendale security, for all I knew. But maybe he didn't know Harry. Maybe he was just making sure that this unfamiliar guard was doing what he was supposed to. Either way, my chest rose and fell quickly and adrenaline pumped through my nervous veins.
"I'm taking this patient back to her cell, sir," Harry replied smoothly. "She ran out of group therapy when the lights went out."
I was thoroughly impressed with Harry's confidence. But I couldn't be relieved just yet. The other man gave him a hard look, like Harry's visible features were familiar and he was trying to place them. But a few moments later he nodded. "Alright. Thanks."
"No problem, sir," Harry answered. And we crossed paths. I breathed out a sigh once he had passed and my shoulders relaxed. Harry squeezed my hand in relief of our small victory. But it was too soon for that.
Because a few moments later there was an absence in the man's footsteps. He had stopped. Harry began to walk faster, pushing me with him. "Wait a minute," the man called after us, and I had a feeling that now he recognized Harry. "Hey!" He shouted, and his footsteps started up again, but faster as he chased us.
Harry and I began to run.
HARRY'S POV
Fuck. Shit. Dammit.
Everything had gone smoothly in our plans up to this point. Everything was on track, everything according to plan until now. But this fucking prick of a security guard had to ruin it. He couldn't have just passed by or waited one second for us to turn the corner until he decided to chase us.
But we weren't going to give up. We would fucking run for our lives. I wasn't ruining all of our hope, all of our plans, and all of our longing to get out of here for this fucking employee. But he was surprisingly fast and my bad lungs were rotten with the black remnants of nicotine. And Rose's shorter legs along with her lack of real food and exercise because of this shitty place, didn't amount to an insanely great speed. This guard on the other hand, was quick.
Quicker than I thought, in fact, when his hand latched onto my shoulder and my stomach dropped. Fuck.
He whirled me around powerfully and my hands lost hold of Rose's wrists in the process. I had know idea where he had gotten that needle in hands from, but probably from his holster of torturous items. I didn't even know he was holding it until it was in until my forearm was punctured with the tip, and I was too slow to stop him.
But I was not too slow to recover from the jab of the sharp item. I was obviously the male and was in a strange disguise, posing as a bigger threat than Rose. So he looked to take me down first. The man was still concerned with her too, though, as she was free to roam the halls. He looked back from my arm for just a moment to look at her and decipher where she was going. Bad mistake.
I took his glance as an opportunity, very quickly ripping the need from my arm and digging it into his neck by the time he looked back. He reached for his holster but, giving the sedatives a little kick, I swung my fist at his face and shoved him to the ground. And he was out like a light.
But about half of the drugs were in my bloodstream, too. "Harry!" Rose called, rushing back to me. "Are you okay?"
"Rose, go. You have to get out of here."
"What and leave you here? I don't think so, Harry," she said.
"There's already some sedatives in my system, I'll pass out any second. You have to go, Rose."
"Well I'm not leaving you here!" She said, her eyes already brimming with tears due to the stress of the situation. The pain behind her voice at the thought alone convinced me she wasn't leaving, no matter what I said.
"Fine," I sighed, my eyelids already feeling heavy. "Go in that supply closet over there. Go and hide."
I knew that there was a small little storage room just across the hall. It was too far for me to walk there, but Rose could make it.
"But you-"
"Rose, you have to trust me. Go there and wait for me, and I'll come and find you. I promise, once I wake up I'll find you. Just stay in there," I instructed sternly.
It was hard for her to accept, I could tell. But there was no choice. She couldn't drag me there on her own, I couldn't walk there before passing out, and she wasn't going to stay here and risk everything we worked for just for my stupid mistake.
"Promise?" She asked.
"I promise. Trust me."
She nodded, a tear falling from her cheek. At that moment my eyes fell closed and I sunk to the floor. Rose grabbed me before I could stumble, easing my fall.
There I sat slumped against the wall. "I love you," she said quickly. Her tiny hands cupped my jaw and she kissed me quickly but with such a raw passion it almost snapped me out of my stupor. "I love you too," I managed in a whisper once she pulled away. And finally, I knew she had listened because of the absence of her heat. I saw a blurry picture of Rose running to the supply closet with two bags in hand, the sounds of another guard approaching coming from the hallway behind me.
And that's the last thing I remembered before everything went black.
A.N. SORRY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE UP A FEW HOURS EARLIER BUT I ACCIDENTALLY FELL ASLEEP WHILE WRITING SO IM SORRY AND PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER @/watermelonat AND VOTE/COMMENT ON THIS CHAPTER I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH