The Mindf*ck Series

Chapter 3

𝘛𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵.
- 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘶𝘴

𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗔𝗡

I

hate myself. I hate this fucking case. And I hate everything that is standing between me and Lana right now.

“I fucked up,” I say quietly to Hadley as I drop to a chair in her cabin.

“I’ll say,” she mumbles.

“I don’t know what to do right now, but I shouldn’t have done what I did. I didn’t know she was Victoria when…”

I blow out a long breath, letting the words trail off, unable to finish them.

“When what?” Hadley prompts, leaning up.

“I fucked her out of anger, and then cuffed her to the bed, left her naked and exposed, and didn’t let her speak.”

Hadley goes stiff beside me.

“You didn’t,” she says in a harsh whisper, her teeth grinding.

I clench my hands together, lacing my fingers with each other tight enough to cause pain. “I thought she was Kennedy and obsessed with Victoria Evans. I had no idea she 𝘸𝘢𝘴 Victoria Evans. I’d have handled 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 differently. I’d be no less confused, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t have done that to her. I thought she’d been playing me. I was hurt. I felt duped. And—”

“And obsessed proxies are unstable and unable to love without fixation,” Hadley points out grimly. “But she’s not an obsessed proxy. She’s a scarred girl with more shit in her life than any one person should ever have to endure. And you just took your turn shitting on her. Great job, Bennett. Great fucking job.”

She stands, and I curse while standing with her. “I realize I fucked up. I’m trying to fix it, Hadley. But I can’t find her. That’s why I’m here.”

“Define your version of fixing it,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I have no idea just yet. It’s not like I can simply condone all she’s doing. And it’s not like I can lie and say I don’t understand it either. I feel... fucked up,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.

She leans up, her eyes on mine. “I realize I’m not the Boy Scout you are, but—”

“Don’t do that, Hadley,” I interrupt, my jaw ticking. “Don’t act like being conflicted about torture and murder means I have a stick up my ass.”

She collapses back against the chair, releasing a tortured breath.

“My stepfather was a monster, and my mother and her shrink convinced me I was a pathological liar for seeing him as such.” Her random, yet pained comment has me tensing. “Seventy kids in total that we know about, Logan.”

Her eyes tear up, and she clears her throat.

“I was conflicted too. Then I realized there were only sixty-nine pictures.”

“Your picture was missing,” I say quietly, but I already knew this. I just didn’t piece together at the time that it was my girlfriend sparing Hadley the indignity of the others seeing it.

“She didn’t want me to see the vulnerable little girl I was because she was afraid it would break me. Lana has lived through more pain than most people can endure. The physical pain alone from the numerous surgeries she needed to rebuild her facial structure was bad enough. Imagine the psychological toll that took on her. She lost her family. She lost her home. She gave up her identity so that it couldn’t be taken away. She’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for, and yeah. Maybe I’m a sick motherfucker, but I’m on her side.”