Chaotic (A Psychotic Sequel)

Chapter 4

MS.HELLMAN'S POV

I kept my composure.

I had organized the guards through spitting shouts, ordered them to hunt for lose patients (two in particular), And commanded them to get this place under control. To do their jobs for once in their fucking lives.

They had been frantic, but I executed these demands with a certainty that seem to give my pathetic employees some sliver of confidence that they could, in fact, do what I hired them to do.

I kept my composure.

I had marched  through the cement corridors, key in hand, doing my own part and diminishing some of the chaos. I had watched that stupid hole in the ground get filled with dirt, watched it's opening to the institution seal off with a pour of cement. I watched the interviewers come. I have been reluctant to answer, I had to think through what information I wanted to release. I had just told them that there had been a breach in our system and we were still gathering information.

I had seen my son lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of my building.

I had kept my composure, because that was all I had left.

But the thought nagged at me. I did not let this nagging show on my face or in my actions, but let it fester in the back of my mind until it could be rationalized. And once I could put it to use I acknowledged what it was.

Because I had my composure. But now, driving this impeccable self-control was a fierce, vengeful hate. And the thought of their games, of their weak, lucky escape, of their selfish manner in leaving people battered in their wake, layered the detestation  and a hot blanket over my shoulders.

It was this spiteful force that led my footsteps when I went to the police. It aided in the articulation of my words to the local reporters and journalists.

And above all else, my hatred fueled the determination I had to track them down. To let the whole country now. To let them once more be brought back under my control. It was an overwhelming necessity telling me that I would find, dead or alive, the bodies of Harry Styles and Rose Winters.

ROSE'S POV

"Mind if I join you?"

My eyes in voluntarily ran up and down Harry's body, and I swallowed hard. Jesus.

"One second!" I said abruptly, yanking the curtain closed as his jaw fell open in offense.
"I'm sorry, just wait right there."

I frantically scanned the shower and found a small cardboard box near its edge. I tore it open for the small, complementary razor inside and grabbed the bar of soap. I tried to lather up, propping a leg on the shampoo ledge.

"Give me two minutes, I promise," I assured. I began to shave and heard Harry let out an exaggerated sigh. He started tapping his foot on the floor to rush me, loud enough so I could hear past the pressure of the water.

He wouldn't have kicked up a fuss about it, I'm sure, but it'd make me feel better to have smooth skin. Especially if he would be touching them.

And in a way, it felt like taking back some control, some womanhood from being ushered around in a shapeless blue jumpsuit for so long. And maybe, too, I was prolonging our intimacy, out of some nervous excitement that was now pulsing through my veins.

But I moved quickly, avoiding any nicks or cuts. It had been a couple of minutes and I didn't want to keep him waiting too long.
"Almost done," I assumed him again.

Okay, I think that was everything. I set the blade back down and turned back toward the curtain. I pulled it back open and saw him standing there, a smilier position as before, arms crossed over his chest so that I could see the prominent muscles underneath. He had been staring at the floor but slowly his eyes moved up to mine, a smirk taking hold on his lips as they went.