Not Dead Yet (Sample Only, Now on KU)

New York

"Did you really just take that, Amy?" The nurse eyes me suspiciously, wondering if I'm up to my old tricks again. I roll my eyes in an exaggerated manner, proving that I think her untrusting nature of me is ridiculous.

"Yes," I insist, through a slightly thick tongue. In all honesty, practicing this in my room in front of the mirror was a whole lot easier. Never mind, I'm doing it now. I'll just have to find a way to make it work. "Haven't I been a model patient recently? Honestly, it's as if you don't think a leopard can change its spots."

"Hmm, sure." But she stands up slowly, sending my heart flying with excitement. I've done it, I've actually pulled it off! "Well, Mr. Baker will be in to see you in a while anyway, so we can go from there."

Urgh, of all the people I hate at the New York Institute for the Criminally Insane—not that it's really called that, but I have to make jokes about my situation. If I don't, I'll end up crying—Mr. Baker is the worst. He's the dreaded psychologist, and the methods he uses to try and 'get me to open up' make me absolutely shudder.

Maybe I don't want to talk about the things that brought me here, maybe I don't find it helpful to dredge up stuff that happened in the past, maybe I personally think it'll set me back to relive the horrors from before. Maybe...just maybe, it's up to me what I do. I just wish he'd see it the same way.

As soon as the door clicks closed, I cover my mouth with my hand and feign a cough, all the while spitting the small white pills, that send me into a zombie-like state, into my hand. I know this place well, having been here for years. I know there are cameras everywhere, I had to learn that the hard way when I tried to make my escape last time. The staff knew what I was up to for ages, so however prepared I was they were on top of it and I had no chance. They sedated me for weeks afterwards, it was one of the worst times ever.

I never, ever want to go through anything like that again.

This time though, things will be different, this time I'm more than ready.

I tuck the wet, chalky pills in the waistband of my underwear as discretely as I can, praising myself for being such a smart ass, they'll never think to look there, no matter how little they trust me. I'm pretty sure people forget that before all of this happened, I was a serious clever person. They can drug me up to the eyeballs and try to take that away from me, but it'll always be there, deep down. And the less of the pills I take, the clearer my mind will become.

Oh, God...I can already feel a chill running through my body, which means he's here. The Devil in disguise. It's time.

"Hello there, Miss Rowles," Mr. Baker sneers at me, causing my whole body to tense up. My stomach coils like a metal spring and I can feel my lip desperate to curl up in a snarl, but I don't let it. I'm trying to play the role of 'model patient' here, I need to stick to that even when dealing with this. "Now, I hear you've been more cooperative recently, so let's see what we can do for you today."

I watch intently as he flicks through the papers attached to a clipboard in front of him. He might put on that caring expression, which I'm sure has everyone else fooled, but I know he doesn't care. Not really, we're all just paychecks to him, he'd probably prefer it if we never healed!

I attempt to remain composed around him, but after a few moments of silence, my body starts freaking out all by itself. I tap my foot, shift my butt about, and eventually sit on my hands just to prevent me from flapping them about like a mad person. Since he already thinks I'm mental that's one thing I desperately need to play down.

"So, I know that you've been trying to avoid talking about it, but maybe it's time that we discuss the day you were brought in here?"

My blood runs icy cold, nausea rises up into my throat. "I...I just don't remember it," I lie. "It's so long ago. And it doesn't matter now anyway, I'm so far past it."