[BOOK TWO]
Once a deep and powerful connection between two people has been made they become a vital part in each other's lives and there is no separating them. No measure of distance or duration of silence can prevent the outbreak of smiles and laug...
Oliver continued to scream, his fingers gripped tightly around Malia's wrists as he pinned her to the floor. She wrestled underneath him, but didn't try and throw him off in order to let the plan work. "You're a liar!"
Brunski and another orderly rushed over to the scene while Stiles sneakily watched from behind a corner, his arms crossed over his torso. "Get this nut-job off of me," Malia growled, cuing him to walk forward towards her as people crowded around them.
The two employees lifted Oliver off of Malia, one of their arms keeping him in a headlock as he wailed, "She said they drill holes in your head!" Oliver yelled more, trying to get them off as they carried him away. "She said they drill holes in your head!"
Stiles helped Malia off the floor, the girl sneakily slipping the keys into his palm. He kept one hand on her shoulder as they both looked back at Brunski, who scowled in their direction before leading Oliver away.
"No, please don't put a hole in my head!"
Malia was grinning from the success of their plan and nodded her head to assure Stiles that she was okay.
He had to wait about three hours until he could sneak away back to the basement door.
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Stiles impatiently shoved key after key into the lock, none of them opening the door. "Come on," he grumbled quietly, flipping through the ring before glancing over his shoulder nervously. "I thought this guy had the keys to everything."
A hand firmly gripped the back of his neck, making him immediately freeze. "I do," the gruff voice of Brunski answered and he roughly grabbed the keys from Stiles's hand. "But nobody has the key to that room."
The head orderly called two other workers to help lead Stiles to a special locked room, that didn't have any furniture with tile running up and down the walls and floor. "Into the quiet room, little man," he called it, Stiles slightly pushing to get the guards away from him. Brunski held up the prescription bottle he had gotten from Morrell. "Are you going to tell us where you got these?"
"Vending machine?" Stiles sarcastically spat without thinking, making the older man narrow his eyes.
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