My breaths come out in ragged pants when the latch on the door gives way without too much protest. Usually, I’m breaking out of rooms, not entering them. After storing a hairclip and rusty nail in the hidden pocket of my dress, I stand from my crouched position and cautiously enter the room I’m breaking into. I don’t know why I am here. I’ve deferred the attention of both the staff and patients for longer than I can remember, but there is something about this man that draws me to him.

I thought it was the magazine article he gave me, but that was weeks ago, and he is still in my thoughts every day. He’s not like normal men. His hair is as black as the devil’s heart, his eyes just as lifeless. He doesn’t look like my Nick—not in the slightest. My one true love is pure and innocent. This man is wicked and immoral. The ruckus he has made in my life the past six weeks has been anything but pleasant, but his attention reminds me that I have a heart pumping in my chest. Its beat is weak and pitiful, but it is still beating all the same.

Perhaps that’s why I’m drawn to him? I’m not allowed to talk about Nick, much less have an opinion on any aspect of my life. Even the slightest utter of my love in a breathless whisper subjected me to scrutiny by unpleasant doctors with bushy brows and malevolent faces.

That’s why I no longer talk. I’d rather be mute than be controlled. The doctors say I have erotomaniac delusional beliefs about relationships, and that nothing I am feeling is true. They believe being rejected makes me lash out and do violent things. I think they’re the crazy ones. Dexter has been a part of my life for a little over six weeks, and this is the first time I’ve broken into his room. I didn’t even make it a week before I snuck into Nick’s home to watch him sleep.

My sneaky steps into the room slow when a deep, raspy voice snarls, “Ouch. Don’t bite. I’m trying to be nice, and you’re biting me. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He has the same clipped voice my daddy used when angered by something I did.

“I said regular Kool-Aid, this one is sugar free.”

“Why do my trousers have pleats down the front? Do I look like I sit sideways?”

“You should go live with your mother. I bet the worms would make good use of your hollow head.”

So many criticisms for a man who preached godliness. My father was a horrible man. He was nothing like Nick. He didn’t love me with every fiber of his being. He didn’t cherish the ground I walked on. He spat at my feet and called me names when I told him I had found The One.

He paid for his sins, just as I am now for mine. I tried to hurt Nick’s baby, and in return for my error, he sent me here. One day he’ll return to collect me. I just have to be patient. He hears my pleas; he feels my sorrow; he won’t keep me waiting much longer. A love like ours can’t be undone. It is a lifetime commitment that only ends one way.

I stop listening to the voices in my head blaming her for keeping him away from me when an angry roar vibrates my eardrums. “I swear to god, Bryce, if that is you, you won’t leave this room with your heart still functioning. I don’t care how much shit you pump into my veins, nothing will alter your ugly face enough for me to suck your dick.” The man snarls, baring teeth. “I’ll rip off your little pecker with my teeth if it gets within an inch of my mouth.”

He rolls his head in my direction, his movements so slow, it is as if his head is the weight of ten bowling balls. When he spots me standing frozen inside his once-locked door, he startles. He seems as shocked by my presence as I am to be standing before him.

This wasn’t my plan. I didn’t keep my head down and mouth shut the past five years to have a stranger unravel my wish for freedom, but since this man confuses me as much as he excites me, I couldn’t harness my curiosity for a moment longer.

Why is he nice to me?

No one is nice to me, not even Nick once she became a part of his life. She hates that Nick loves me. She hates that he only sees me when he looks at her. But more than anything, she hates that she’ll never own his heart because he gave it to me years ago. Even via a photo, I could feel her evil eyes glaring at me. She knows it is only a matter of time before Nick returns to collect me.

He will be angry when he hears I’ve spent time with another man, but it won’t stop him from coming. . . Will it?

I freeze, disturbed by my inner monologue. Oh no, what have I done? I must leave this instant.

“No, wait!” Dexter shouts when I spin on my heels and head for the door.

The plea in his voice stops my flat-soled shoes from pounding the white tiles, but his slur keeps my back facing him. I feel his eyes scanning the room, mindful the sedatives may make him mistake my presence. I should leave and let him believe I am an illusion, but the sheer confusion radiating out of him has me spinning on my heels instead.

As my daddy always said, I made my bed; now I must lie in it.

“Claudia?” Dexter asks, clearly confused. “Is that you?”

Nodding, I step out of the shadows. Dexter gasps in a sharp breath as if excited to see me. The thought both pleases and dissatisfies me. I’m sure if I explain to Nick the reason for my visit to Dexter’s room tonight, he won’t be overcome with too much jealousy. . .

Although, this is the first time I’ve been in another man’s room that wasn’t Nick’s or my father’s, so it may still be a bitter pill for him to swallow.

I’m snapped from my thoughts when Dexter asks, “What are you doing in my room?” His words are remarkably strong for how dilated his eyes are. They are glassier than usual, making my motive for entering his room more plausible.

Before I can respond, Dexter’s tongue darts out to clear away the sweat beading on his top lip as effectively as it has drenched his hair. His body’s response to the chemicals seeping into his brain isn’t surprising. If he discards his morning and afternoon prescriptions as often as I’ve seen him reject his lunch-time dosage the past six weeks, the sedative the guards hit him with when he refused to move to his side of the rec room must be turning his brain to mush.

I don’t know why he wanted to sit with me, but I don’t blame him for not wanting to take his medication. They make my mind fuzzy as well. But with every refusal comes an increase in dosage. I learned the error of my way very quickly my first year. If he doesn’t conform to the rules soon, he’ll be a zombie by next month.

I guess that’s why I am here, to stop him getting hurt. He and my roommate Ashlee have saved me from Lee’s grabby hands multiple times the past two months, so the least I can do is ensure he understands the rules.

When Dexter’s wintry blue eyes glare into mine, demanding I explain why I am disturbing him, my lips twitch, but I remain as quiet as a church mouse. I can feel the words I want to express sitting on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how hard I try to fire them out of my mouth, they refuse to budge. Although he protects me, I don’t know him well enough to trust him just yet. The devil is known for wearing many masks, so I must remain wary.

The deep ridges of Dexter’s chiseled cheeks indent when he struggles to stifle a grin. “You’re worried about me?”

I shouldn’t nod, but I do. He wouldn’t have gotten in anywhere near as much trouble the past six weeks if he wasn’t always protecting me. By sheltering me under his umbrella, he placed himself in direct sight of the law—the law being the men and women in this facility who are more deranged than the patients they’re guarding.

My agreeing nod pleases Dexter. I’m glad. Men are less evil when they’re happy.

“Can you untie me?”

The demand in his voice turns my nod into a shake.

“Oh, come on, Claudia. If you’re truly worried about me, how can you not help me?” His deep snarl warns me to remain cautious, but the way he purrs my name makes my insides gooey. “I won’t hurt you; I just want to make sure no one else does. Especially not the person you saw in the article last month.”

I peer at him in shock. He knows about Nick’s fiancée and the horrible things she did to me?

Spotting my scrunched brows, Dexter pledges, “I can stop the injustice, Claudia. I just need you to untie me first.”

Hesitantly, I pace closer to him, wanting to verify if his twinkling eyes belong to a devious man or an honest one.

It’s a woeful waste of time.

An in-depth glance at his massively dilated gaze doesn’t alleviate my curiosity in the slightest. He has beautiful oceanic eyes that promise to immensely reward obedience, but they are also full of hate and deceit.

I want to trust him, but when you’ve been hurt time and time again by those you love, it’s not an easy thing to do. It is the equivalent of reaching into a beehive and hoping not to get stung. I might live in a mental hospital, but I’m not stupid. Well, I wasn’t before doctors made my brain gooey.

“Please, Claudia.” Dexter jangles the leather cuffs pinching his wrists and ankles, amplifying his plea. “I won’t hurt you. You can trust me.”

After a short stint of deliberation, I set to work on freeing him. It is the least I can do after all the help he has given me.

It is also reminds me why I can’t trust anyone.

The instant the final cuff is removed from Dexter’s ankle, he snatches my wrist, drags me onto his bed, then flattens me like a pancake with his fit, sweat-slicked body. A torrent of horrible thoughts bombard me when his hand creeps up to clamp my shrieking mouth, including images of my daddy’s hands testing the strength of my lungs when his meal wasn’t served at precisely 6 PM. They’re followed by memories of the stench of his breath hitting my face when I did the same thing to him years later, but for several minutes longer. Then, finally, the visual a thousand days hasn’t stripped from my mind: the big, masculine hand of a man my love sent in his place because he was too angry to look at me. He was the man who placed me into psychiatric care, the one who locked me away until I pay for my sins.

He said it wasn’t my fault and that he was sorry for what he had done. I accepted his apology as I could see the remorse in his eyes. He wasn’t hurting me because he hated me like my daddy did. He was being forced against his wishes, as I am now.

I won’t go down without a fight this time. It’s been years since I last saw Nick, but I’m confident our love is still strong. He hears my whispered promises floating through the air, the pledges of celibacy and atonement. He is waiting for me. He just hasn’t worked through his anger just yet. That is why he stood next to her in the magazine article—smiling and acting happy. It was a façade to hide his pain. I hurt him, but one day, I’ll make it up to him. One day soon, I hope.

My wailing softens when Dexter whispers, “Shh, Claudia. I won’t hurt you. I just need you to be quiet.” The angry snarl of his voice doesn’t match the sincerity of his words. “Once the guards leave, I’ll remove my hand from your mouth, but you need to be quiet, okay? If you yell, we’ll both be in trouble. You don’t want us to get in trouble, do you?”

It is stupid for me to do, but I shake my head. If his eyes weren’t locked on mine, I wouldn’t have, but something in his eyes makes me reckless. . . and I’m not going to mention the funny sensation zapping through my body from being squashed by him. Although his weight is kept off me by his elbows, the lower regions of our bodies are touching.

“Good girl,” Dexter praises when he notices my attempts to remain quiet.

When he slings his eyes to the door, I mimic his movements. My heart rate I’ve just settled breaks into a canter when the shadows of two guards darken the frosted glass of Dexter’s door. Their presence is shocking, not because they are doing their job but because they altered their routine.

The guards at Meadow Fields follow procedures to the T, never varying from the routine. That is why I am visiting Dexter’s room under the cloak of darkness, because I knew the hallways would be empty since the staff is in the process of bringing on a new shift. For them to be outside Dexter’s room, something must be wrong—horribly wrong.

Since Dexter’s blood is roaring through his body, I am unable to hear what the guards are whispering. Whatever it is, it must be unpleasant, as the longer they talk, the faster Dexter’s heart pulses. It also lessens the heavy rod nestled between my legs.

Dexter’s crazy heart rate only slows when the shadows disappear from his door a few minutes later. Mine remains high. It is expected since Dexter’s focus has returned to me. He is an extremely handsome man, but no amount of charm can hide black insides. I’ve tried to conceal mine for years. I’ve never been successful.

“I’m going to remove my hand. Don’t scream.”

His raspy voice makes the lack of oxygen in my body more noticeable. Because his request is more a demand than a question, he doesn’t wait for me to respond. He slowly drops his hand from my mouth, bringing it to within an inch of my breast. The frantic thrust of my lungs brings our bodies closer with every gulp I take, but the harder I struggle to control my breathing, the more worked up my lungs become.

Within seconds, my erect nipples are scraping Dexter’s firm chest. The sensation is odd, a feeling I’ve never experienced. It is like a zap of electricity is surging through my body before doing weird things to the ungodly womanhood between my legs. It feels nice but naughty at the same time.

I sink into the mattress, conscious my love wouldn’t like me being this close to another man, much less having the wicked thoughts I am. A little voice inside me whines when Dexter rolls off me a few seconds later. It is the naughty one I’m not allowed to listen to.

Although Dexter appears as confused as me, his focus remains clear. “How did you get in my room?”

His words are as wobbly as his legs, revealing his earlier sedative isn’t the only thing his body is combatting. I’ve never heard his voice so low and brittle. Normally, it is stern and dominant—demanding the attention of everyone in the room.

When I remain quiet, Dexter’s wide eyes scan my face, neck, and chest before dropping to take in the rest of my body. That earlier unknown commotion between my legs triples when his eyes linger on me longer than I’m usually perused. I’ve never been given a look like this before. I’m a one quick glance without a second look type of girl. The only time I’ve been appraised for longer than twenty seconds is when I’m in a room with a handful of people wearing white coats.

“Is there a reason you’re in my room?”

I slant my head to the side and raise a brow. Why did his voice hitch like that? It had a weird twang to it, like when daddy was really thirsty, but I hadn’t fetched water from the well yet. It was throaty and deep, and, in all honesty, a little scary to hear.

Hoping if I alleviate his curiosity, he will ease mine, I join him bedside while taking my hair clip and rusty nail from my pocket.

Dexter’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree when he spots what I’m clasping. “You broke into my room?!”

I don’t know why he sounds delighted, but I’m certain that is the emotion he is displaying. After preparing my face for the sting of his hit, I nod.

Dexter’s slap never comes. He just continues peering at me with joy on his handsome face, like I am the answer to his prayers. It is the same look Nick gave me when I offered him a ride all those years ago. He was so pleased by my assistance, love and admiration poured from every orifice in his body.

Dexter returns my focus to him by tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. I like that. That is a nice thing for him to do. It makes me feel cherished—loved even. “Can you pick any locks, Claudia, or just the ones on patients’ doors?”

The awe radiating out of him inspires a competitive edge I haven’t felt in years. I’ve been picking locks since middle school. It started more as a hobby before it grew into a need. I needed to see Nick, but the locks on his door kept us apart. I soon took care of them.

My eyes stray to the itty bitty lock on the window in Dexter’s room. It will be an easy latch to showcase my talents. It won’t even take a second.

My steps toward the grill-covered window stop when Dexter says, “Not that one. That’s too easy for someone as talented as you. How about we find a harder one?”

His velvety tone secures my attention, but his index finger pressed against his lips holds it. His lips are very plump, similar to how Nick’s looked after he kissed me for the first time. We only kissed twice, but I’ve never forgotten it. Our kisses were sweet and full of mutual admiration.

Dexter waits for me to agree to his request to be quiet before he tiptoes to his bedroom door. He cracks it open, then checks if the coast is clear. Happy the hallway is empty as it should have been five minutes ago, he gestures for me to follow him. I do, although warily.

“What about that one? Can you work your magic on that one?” Dexter asks a short stroll later.

He hooks his thumb to a door the guards stomp in and out of every morning and afternoon. The lock is more intricate than standard household locks, but it’s no more difficult than the deadlock Nick’s dad placed on his front door after Nick rudely kicked me out of his house.

Nick had no right to be angry that day. I wasn’t the one who constantly visited a whore the instant the love of my life left town. Argh! The things they did together made my blood boil. It is too disgusting for words. My daddy said there is only one time a man should touch me where Nick touched her—that is when he wants to put a baby in my belly. Nick placed a baby in her belly not long after they met, so he had no reason to do what they did again.

And again.

And again.

Fueled by annoyance about what Nick and his whore could be doing right now, I storm to the door to assess the lock more diligently. I’ve been toeing the line for years with the hope good behavior would get me back to my love sooner rather than later. It didn’t work. It’s time to step outside the box.

The lock is a multiple-teeth combination that will require more than two instruments. I’m honestly unsure if my woozy head is up to it. Dexter’s constant bickering with the staff didn’t just affect his dosage of medication. My dosages increased as well.

“What is it?” Dexter asks a short time later, confused by the delay.

His response is expected. I did bolt over here like my backside was on fire, only to wilt away like a sunflower stuck in a shadow. That happens a lot when the doctors alter my medication. I have soaring highs and devastating lows.

With my head a twisted mess of confusion, I scan the corridor, seeking additional equipment I can use to jimmy the lock. Dexter’s mischievous afternoon awarded him an additional visit from grumpy guards, meaning a tray of medical equipment stands a few paces up from his bedroom door.

I point to the cart, wordlessly demanding Dexter bring it to me. He follows suit without a single qualm. That is more shocking than the excitement radiating out of him in invisible waves. And I’m not going to mention the crazy things it does to my muddled heart.

With a hairclip, a syringe, and my trusty old nail, the security office door pops open thirty seconds later. My mouth hangs as low as Dexter’s. I didn’t think I had it in me, but this proves nothing can stand in the way of greatness. Maybe I still have a chance? Perhaps I’m not too late to prove to Nick how much I love him? I just need to get him away from her long enough he’ll remember the connection we share.

The esteem raising my chest high deflates when Dexter slaps his hand over my mouth before dragging me inside the security office. I nearly wail and scream, until my eyes lock on the clock clanging noisily in the corner of the room. The staff’s change of guard is over. We’re seconds away from being busted.

Oh no.

As tears roll down my cheeks unchecked, my jumbled mind strives for a solution. It took me hours to build up the courage to enter Dexter’s room, but instead of being awarded for my valor, for the umpteenth time in my life, my inability to follow the rules will unfairly strip away my will to live.

I can’t go back to the hospital I transferred from two months ago. The staff members were mean. They didn’t understand me. They hurt, poked, and prodded me twenty-four hours a day. I can’t do that again. I won’t do that again.

With my hands clamped over my ears, I curl into a ball and rock.

I want the pain to stop.

I want the mean voices in my head to stop yelling at me.

But more than anything, I want to be free.