His Obsession

31: devil incarnate

Author's Note:
I was going to wait to upload this, but this chapter and chapter 30 are super short so I decided to upload them back to back. Neither are edited so ignore any possible mistakes.

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The bright overhead lights blind me as I pace around the small white room. My knuckles stinging from repeatedly bashing them against the door, begging to see him. I've cried and screamed for days until my throat went raw, unable to even mutter a brief word.

This probably makes no sense. I'll explain. Exactly one week ago, we were caught off guard. Ryder had stayed up for days, refusing to sleep so we wouldn't get caught, until the exhaustion caught up to him. We were both asleep, our bodies entangled together when the door was blown off it's hinges.

Officers swarmed in, guns aimed, screaming for us to put our hands up. Ryder pushed me behind him, guarding my body with his own, as he attempted to grab the gun. His hand barely grazed it before they shot him. His body jerked back into mine, blood pouring out of him. I screamed like a dying animal, cradling him in my arms, disregarding the police.

He screamed for me to grab the gun, and I tried to, but that was when I was also shot. He was shot in the right side of his chest, near his collarbone, while I was shot in the shoulder. As soon as I got shot, Ryder went wild. He didn't seem to care about his gunshot anymore. Standing to his feet, he lunged at the officers, sending brutal punches, dropping them to the ground left and right, until he was tased twice.

His body convulsed, dropping to the ground while I was sobbing, bleeding out. The officers swarmed in, ripping me away from him, cuffing me while I fought like a wild animal. My arms and legs went flying, desperate to get back to him. Ryder was screaming, threatening to rip their heads off while seven officers held him down, attempting to cuff him.

He never stopped fighting until he was kicked in the head multiple times, knocking him unconscious. I sobbed, screamed, hit, kicked, I even bit them, in desperation to be with him. It never worked. My hands were cuffed, feet shackled, thrown into the back of the cop car.

I was first brought to the jail, where I went insane. I screamed nonstop, banging my head and fists against the door, begging to see him, to know if he was okay. I got strapped down into a chair, injected with medication that kept me sedated. After days inside the jail, they transported me to the mental institution, deeming me not sane, and a victim.

They seem to think he brainwashed me, held me against my will. They don't realize I love him. He did nothing wrong. Yes, he took me in the beginning, but I fell in love with him. They refuse to listen to that though. The doctor says I have some condition. Stockholm syndrome. I laughed at him, calling him every name in the book, telling him he was a fucking idiot. He doesn't understand our love. Nobody does.

Each day I've been here, they've pumped me full of medication. The first three days I was strapped in a straight jacket. They finally took me out of that, deciding the meds were enough to keep me from harming myself or others. They were wrong. I've stopped eating. I flush the food down the toilet. I refuse to eat without him.

Currently I'm waiting on the doctor. He comes see me daily, tries to brainwash me into believing that Ryder is some kind of monster. It won't work. Yet they don't give up. They're all morons. Morons who don't understand. I will find a way out of here. I will see him again. I have too. Otherwise I rather be dead. I can only imagine what he is going through.

They're probably abusing him. I know he must be losing his mind. They seem to think he is the devil incarnate. They don't see the good in him like I do. I also found out they had been onto us for weeks, silently following us. Building a case. The man Ryder saw was an undercover cop. All they needed was our DNA, which they got. News stations have been calling the jail, and this place, begging for interviews, which I refuse to give.

A knock is heard at the door as it opens, in walks the doctor. He's young, younger than I would expect a doctor to be. He has curly black hair, light colored skin, tall, built but thin, tattoos peak out of his coat, and he wears glasses. Not what I would assume a mental doctor to look like. He smiles at me, a smile full of pity, before sitting at the desk, gesturing for me to do the same. I refuse, as always, standing against the wall.

"Good afternoon, Layla. How is your morning?"

Rolling my eyes, I don't answer his question, instead demanding to know where Ryder is.

"I'm sorry, but you know we cannot disclose that information."

Anger floods through me, boiling my blood.

"Why the fuck not?! Just tell me where he is! Or at least if he's okay! Please! I need to know!"

I shout at him, on the verge of tears.

"I cannot do that. How about we discuss you instead?"

Sliding down the wall, collapsing on the floor, I begin sobbing out of frustration. I tune out what is being said, disappearing into my head, where Ryder is. Hugging myself, I imagine that it is his arms, that we are back at home, safe. I imagine the large smiles he would give me, his touch on my body, his voice, the feel of his skin, just him.

These are the only times I feel somewhat sane. This is my only comfort. I'm so distracted I didn't notice when the doctor left. I don't know how much time passed with me on the floor, in my own world, and I didn't care. I could imagine to the point that I actually feel him here with me.

At some point, I must have dozed off, drifting to sleep, dreaming of ocean eyes, wavey brown hair, caramel skin, and that deep, husky voice. I wished to never wake up. I wished to stay there with him forever, and somehow, I knew he was doing the same. We were dreaming of each other, both seeking out the only comfort we could find. Our bond was too strong, it was impossible to break us apart. We would find each other again, by any means necessary.

End Of Chapter Thirty One

Question: do you think the book will have a happy ending, or sad?