Lyra Blackwood is a 24 year old psych nurse who has encountered many insane and dangerous situations in her line of work, but nothing has been as unpredictable as Brexton McGomery, a potential serial killer. What will happen when they're forced to s...
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***Trigger Warning***
My finger inches towards the trigger. I zone in on my target. I pretend the bullseye is my boyfriend's face.
Our relationship is complicated. I love him but I don't like him, you know? Let's just say he considers us to be in an open relationship and I do not. If he wasn't so attractive and so powerful, I'd have dumped him a long time ago. Unfortunately, I'm stuck with him. Right as I'm about to pull the trigger, I hear my phone ringing.
I swear under my breath as I rummage through my backpack-sized purse. When I finally find my phone, I see it's my work. "Hello?"
"Hey Lyra, how are you doing?" I roll my eyes. Jessica Fowler's condescending voice should never call me.
"What's up?" I am in no mood for small talk, especially with Jessica, my coworker who makes my work life intolerable.
She huffs, returning my attitude. "We're short staffed. Can you come in?"
I mute the phone and scream, earning worried glances from everyone else at the shooting range. I'm supposed to be per diem yet I'm working like I'm full time. I unmute the phone and clear my throat. "Did you ask anyone else?"
"Of course." She says like I've offended her. "We just really need help with this new patient, he's a handful."Ugh. They always give me the handfuls.
I'm about to tell her to screw off but then I spot my empty wallet. I did need the money. "I'll be there in an hour."
"Thank you sweetie." She chirps and hangs up.
I grab my gun and shoot Jessica's face (I mean the target) three times in a row. Then I throw my large purse over my shoulder and head home.
I purposely take the longest shower I've ever taken. I don't think Jessica would want to see me until I've relaxed myself. I'll let you in on a little secret about us psych nurses, we're all crazy. That's how we deal with these kinds of patients, we kind of get it. The way I was feeling right now, I should be in an isolation room wearing a yellow jacket.
I call my boyfriend, letting him know I have to cancel our plans.
"Babe, I really wanted to take you to the movies." He whines.
If he were here, I'd slap him. Does he honestly think I wouldn't rather go to the movies too? "I want that too, but they really need me. Apparently there's a worrisome client that nobody else can handle."
He sighs. "Fine. Do you want to do something when you come home? I was thinking about going to the zoo or something. I haven't done that since I was a kid."
The words sound strange coming from someone as dangerous as he is. "Yeah, I want to sleep. I'm working nightshift and that's like two hours away Jeremiah!"
I feel bad for snapping at him. "I'm sorry. How about the next day?"
"Yeah, maybe. Try not to get killed at work, okay?"
