of your pretty lil' yellow knickers, eh?" She sucked in a tiny breath. She wasn't stupid enough to think that had just been a lucky guess. He had seen them.
"No––uh––I mean––I didn't think––" Crap . How did he expect her to form any coherent sentences while he was looking at her like that? He was just too much to absorb all at once.
"Don't strain yourself. If I wanted to have a better look at you, I'd have it." He tugged on the belt holding the garment closed. "Jus' one good yank…" He leaned back, sneering at her. "But luckily for you , gingernuts aren' my type."
Gingernut? Who was he calling a 'gingernut'?
What in the world was a gingernut?
Strafford had already left her sitting stupid as he headed towards the locked sliding door. "Enough with the bloody prattle. They're probably here for you by now."
She forgot all about being called a "gingernut". "Who's here for me?" She could picture men in white uniforms on the other side, waiting to outfit her with a straight jacket. There was a knock. "Don't let them in!" She exclaimed, her throat going dry with fear.
Strafford frowned and ignored her request. There was a click and he slid the door to his left. As he stepped aside, in walked a funky young girl with short, silver banged hair and a pleasant smile. She was wearing green and silver striped tights, a black tutu, and a denim jacket over a green shirt. A large silver headband with a silver flower attached adorned her head, and on her feet, she wore sparkly silver ballet slippers. She was the strangest looking girl Chloe had ever seen. But maybe this was her new psychotherapist! Boy, her mother really knew how to pick them. Dr. Metzger reminded her of Peter Pan because of the fedora he always wore. Now her mother had hired Tinkerbell to replace him. Way to go, mom.
The girl curtsied low to Strafford, who quickly motioned for her to stop, then to Chloe. "Good day, Oracle," She greeted her in a sugary sweet voice, "My name is Mystic Mayhem. We're ready for you now."
The girl Strafford had mentioned to Ace. She doesn't look like a psychiatrist . And what kind of name is Mystic Mayhem? There was a stronger likelihood that she was a nurse––a nurse with a tutu and a voice that was way too honeyed to be trusted. Chloe had seen the movies. They usually sweet talked you and gained your trust before they strapped you to a bed and shoved pills down your throat. Maybe the name and wacky outfit were only ruses to make her feel more comfortable. Maybe they thought she was crazy enough to fall for it.
Unsure of what to do next, but sure that playing like a sitting duck wouldn't cut it, she made sure her "yellow knickers" were still covered as she climbed from the bed, slow and alert. "I'm ready." Maybe there were a few answers on the other side of that door. Or maybe not, but the odds were evenly stacked.
They're probably gonna lock you up , She thought to herself, You should take this opportunity to bolt. You were a state champion onc e. She eyed the unblocked exit only a few feet away from her.
"Don't bother," Strafford said, "I'll catch you."
She didn't doubt it for a second. She figured he must be the one they called when the other crazies in the hospital lost it or tried to make their getaway. He was strong enough, and oh yeah, he sure looked dangerous enough. It was his eyes––feral and gray. They were the eyes of a predator. A very powerful, very hot predator, one who was not threatened by her in the least. Yeah, she could run, and he would catch her. Problem was, she could see nothing wrong with that.
He glanced down at the girl who called herself Mystic. "Don't keep him waitin' long," He said. His tone carried a warning.
The girl curtsied, and as she came up, Strafford lost some of the I'm-a-hard-ass vibe and planted a kiss on her forehead. They shared an affectionate look and Mystic blushed into a cherry. Woah . Chloe's jealousy was like a tourniquet around her heart, and she couldn't figure
"No––uh––I mean––I didn't think––" Crap . How did he expect her to form any coherent sentences while he was looking at her like that? He was just too much to absorb all at once.
"Don't strain yourself. If I wanted to have a better look at you, I'd have it." He tugged on the belt holding the garment closed. "Jus' one good yank…" He leaned back, sneering at her. "But luckily for you , gingernuts aren' my type."
Gingernut? Who was he calling a 'gingernut'?
What in the world was a gingernut?
Strafford had already left her sitting stupid as he headed towards the locked sliding door. "Enough with the bloody prattle. They're probably here for you by now."
She forgot all about being called a "gingernut". "Who's here for me?" She could picture men in white uniforms on the other side, waiting to outfit her with a straight jacket. There was a knock. "Don't let them in!" She exclaimed, her throat going dry with fear.
Strafford frowned and ignored her request. There was a click and he slid the door to his left. As he stepped aside, in walked a funky young girl with short, silver banged hair and a pleasant smile. She was wearing green and silver striped tights, a black tutu, and a denim jacket over a green shirt. A large silver headband with a silver flower attached adorned her head, and on her feet, she wore sparkly silver ballet slippers. She was the strangest looking girl Chloe had ever seen. But maybe this was her new psychotherapist! Boy, her mother really knew how to pick them. Dr. Metzger reminded her of Peter Pan because of the fedora he always wore. Now her mother had hired Tinkerbell to replace him. Way to go, mom.
The girl curtsied low to Strafford, who quickly motioned for her to stop, then to Chloe. "Good day, Oracle," She greeted her in a sugary sweet voice, "My name is Mystic Mayhem. We're ready for you now."
The girl Strafford had mentioned to Ace. She doesn't look like a psychiatrist . And what kind of name is Mystic Mayhem? There was a stronger likelihood that she was a nurse––a nurse with a tutu and a voice that was way too honeyed to be trusted. Chloe had seen the movies. They usually sweet talked you and gained your trust before they strapped you to a bed and shoved pills down your throat. Maybe the name and wacky outfit were only ruses to make her feel more comfortable. Maybe they thought she was crazy enough to fall for it.
Unsure of what to do next, but sure that playing like a sitting duck wouldn't cut it, she made sure her "yellow knickers" were still covered as she climbed from the bed, slow and alert. "I'm ready." Maybe there were a few answers on the other side of that door. Or maybe not, but the odds were evenly stacked.
They're probably gonna lock you up , She thought to herself, You should take this opportunity to bolt. You were a state champion onc e. She eyed the unblocked exit only a few feet away from her.
"Don't bother," Strafford said, "I'll catch you."
She didn't doubt it for a second. She figured he must be the one they called when the other crazies in the hospital lost it or tried to make their getaway. He was strong enough, and oh yeah, he sure looked dangerous enough. It was his eyes––feral and gray. They were the eyes of a predator. A very powerful, very hot predator, one who was not threatened by her in the least. Yeah, she could run, and he would catch her. Problem was, she could see nothing wrong with that.
He glanced down at the girl who called herself Mystic. "Don't keep him waitin' long," He said. His tone carried a warning.
The girl curtsied, and as she came up, Strafford lost some of the I'm-a-hard-ass vibe and planted a kiss on her forehead. They shared an affectionate look and Mystic blushed into a cherry. Woah . Chloe's jealousy was like a tourniquet around her heart, and she couldn't figure
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