Mr. Good Bad Guy

49 - Delusion

I stared at the ceiling in defeat, my heart heavy with the weight of being here again. The clock ticked monotonously, and the bed sheets were cold and unyielding, a harsh reminder of the solitude that now surrounded me. I could hear muffled voices from the other room, but they were distant and foreign, like I was still underwater.

I turned my head to the side, wincing as pain shot through my neck and shoulders. The room was all too familiar to me now; the same white walls, the leather sofa, and the wall-mounted TV above the desk. The only thing that was different was the table beside the bed. On it were several vials and syringes, along with a small, portable medical kit. I couldn't help but wonder what they were planning to do to me next.

The voices outside grew louder, and I forced myself to sit up. My vision swam for a moment, but I managed to focus on the door as it swung open. A tall, imposing figure stepped through the threshold, his face hidden behind a surgical mask. In his hands, he carried a clipboard and a pen. "Irene Sinclair," he began, speaking in a cold, emotionless tone. "It's an honor to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

I glanced over at the table, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I'm sure it's all true." My voice was steady, but there was an edge of defiance in it that surprised even me. The man raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my attempt at sarcasm.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving my face. "You know why you're here, don't you?" I hesitated, debating whether to lie or not.

"No," I finally said. "The last thing I remember is being in an accident and I was here again."

The man raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at denial. "Well, let me enlighten you," he said, pushing himself to stand. "Mr. Moran clearly wasn't finished with you. He wanted you to...taste what freedom felt like before he imprisoned you again. It wasn't his intention to hurt you and kill your boyfriend."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the mention of Axel's death. He had never been a part of this. Why did Ezra feel the need to make me even more miserable? I did everything he asked of me. Yeah, I was trying to get him caught, but who could tell while I was in the hospital. I only hinted at telling Isaias, because I needed to know that someone else would believe me without a doubt.

"And why would I believe you?" I asked, my voice cold and distant. "You could just be making this up to make me feel worse."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Irene, you're smarter than that. No one wants to do an unplanned killing. It's not as...satisfying. Anyway, you shouldn't move too much. You might tear your stitches." Contradicting his words, he roughly grabbed my shoulder, forcing me back against the bed. "Now, I know you've been through a lot, but you need to understand that we're on the same side here. We just want to help you put an end to all of this."

His words made me feel queasy. I had no idea who he was, or why he was telling me these things. But one thing was certain: I didn't trust him. Not after everything that had happened. I forced a weak smile. "I appreciate your concern," I said. "But I think I'd rather be left alone."

The man studied my face for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Fine. Mr. Moran will be here to see you soon. Don't do anything stupid."

He got up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding in the pit of my stomach. Was he telling the truth? Or was he just another player in this twisted game? The more I tried to piece together the events of the past few days, the more confused I became.

The door opened again, and this time Ezra walked in. He didn't seem happy, but I could tell he wasn't mad. At least, not at me. "You know, one would think pressing the gas would get you out of a situation like an accident. Especially one that's easy to avoid. Who presses the brake?"