Three: Entering the Psychiatrist's Lair

634 24 3
                                    

On the night of the heist, Javier, Henry and Andrew had made their escape back to their hideout- a small hut nestled deep inside the forest, between two trees and sturdily built. It was painted the color of the trees to further camouflage it's appearance. Once they reached and tumbled through the oak door, breathing heavily, the only sound that seemed to drift through the air, they noticed. Or rather, Javier noticed first. "Hey!" He shouted desperately, alarming the other members and having them pivot their heads toward him in question.

"Jeremy! He-He's gone! He's not with us!"

"Shit, what will we do? He's never strayed behind before. What if he got hurt?" This comment from Andrew made Javier turn to him in shock and wide eyes. "No, he didn't!" He protested, not wanting to believe it. "He didn't get hurt and he didn't go to jail... did he..?" His voice faded and cracked. Henry stood up from his place on the ground. "I'll go find him and bring him back." Javier huddled closer to Andrew, obscuring his face from view. The other members of the gang wished him luck, while Javy waited silently. Several hours passed without notice. That same night, Henry returned with a discouraged look on his features. "I saw a bunch of cops outside the law firm. There was no sign of Jeremy... Except for the blood on the ground behind the building."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Hands fumbled with the locks on one of the windows that allowed light to stream into the plain white room. Flipping the locks up and unlocking them one by one, he gave a mighty heft upward to the window, having it slide open to his delight. A triumphant grin settled onto Jeremy's face, and he set a foot on the open area, ready to lift himself up from the inside of the room and into the sunshine outside.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jeremy stared behind him now with an annoyed glint in his eyes, a frown on his lips. He was getting tired of being postponed from his actual plans, and always failing. That was not his way to go, and he made it evident by placing his hands on both hips and staring at the individual who had just rudely went into the room without further notice. It was the tall male again, the male with the black hair and the oddly tinted eyes.

"Why do you keep coming in here? I already told the other guy I wasn't gonna say anything, and you're not gonna convince me with your stupid mi-"

"You're not a bad kid."

He stared at the other, startled by the words that interrupted his sentence so rudely. "What the fuck are you saying? What did I do to make you say that, huh? That is completely out of context." "Well, I can tell. By your eyes. You probably have a reason why you were trying to do such an upscale thing, weren't you? And you couldn't have done it alo-"

BAM!

Jeremy's hand swung down to the nightstand beside the bed, making contact with it and creating a slamming sound. "I knew you were fishing for answers. How many times must I repeat myself? I'm not gonna change my damn mind. Now if you'll excuse me..."

He turned back to the window, pupils of his hazel eyes slitted in irritation. He went and swung himself over the ledge of the window, until he felt a large, warm hand gripping at his wrist with firmness. "Come on, just relax. Look, tell you what. I'll get you out of here and not ask you about your accomplices. But you have to talk to me, alright?"

Jeremy's nose crinkled as he displayed a slight snarl, but he made no words of objection as the other pulled him inside the room once more, watching as the other left the window as it was before he had pried it open. "Follow me," Vincent murmured gently, and Jeremy was surprised to see himself obeying the other male without objections. As long as he kept his friends safe, he decided, he would not reveal them until he was sure no charges would be made. Well, of course charges were going to be made. They trespassed private property and destroyed and tampered with private property. Somehow, this realization did not set Jeremy off, as a matter of fact, he didn't really seem to care. He watched the other sign off the papers for his release. He was glad that they did not strip him of his clothing rather than his shirt. He had easily slipped it on before they had left his room.

The Psychiatrist's Pet (On Hold)Where stories live. Discover now