Head Case

by Kendra Moreno

  Kenzie sits her last three cards on the table, and I’m reaching forward before I even realize it. Her hand slams down on mine, hard enough to crack the bones in my knuckles, and I clench my jaw hard.

  Punish her . . .

  I jerk hard, and Kenzie’s forest-green eyes meet mine. “You got a problem with stealing, FG?”

  “I’m not a clepto if that’s what you mean. That would be pretty awkward in my profession.”

  “You sell bibles?” There’s a glimmer in her eyes as she says the words, almost like she hopes I’ll say yes. She waits, as if my answer will make or break her opinion of me.

  Maybe I should lie. I know from experience, what I do freaks almost everyone out, but I’m legit in the crazy house being mentally assessed under my own free will. Freaking out the crazies should be the least of my worries, but I find I don’t really want Kenzie to look at me like the others do.

  You should gift her with a head. That will do the trick.

  What the actual fuck? “Are you kidding me?” Too quickly, I realize I spoke the words out loud rather than in my head.

  Kenzie narrows her eyes. “I asked if you sell bibles,” she repeats, almost as if she knows I’ve already lost the question she’d asked. She’s not wrong.

  “I don’t sell bibles. I’m a pathologist.”

  “What’s that mean?” She leans her elbow on the table like she might be interested.

  “I uh–” I scratch the back of my head and then answer with a sigh. “I perform autopsies at the hospital.”

  “Oooo,” she coos. “Tragically insane then. All those dead bodies go to your head?”

  The word ‘head’ coming from her mouth does things to me it shouldn’t, and my chest rumbles. Am I fucking purring?

  “No, it’s the living bodies that screw me up,” I mumble.

  “Well, I can’t argue with you there. I’ve never had any beef with a corpse.”

  I snort, and glance over at Willie where he still dances. Now, he’s galloping and swinging his arm over his head like a cowboy. I raise my brows.

  “Uh, are we allowed to go for a walk here?”

  “You can go wherever the hell you want.” Mitzy stares at the card house she built, stacked five levels tall. How she’s keeping it standing is beyond me. Must be some sort of magic. Kenzie glances at her once before returning her eyes to me. “There’s a stone wall around the gardens. You can’t walk out the front door, but you can go anywhere within the grounds as long as you don’t do something stupid.”

  “Interested in escaping?” I ask, because I don’t think I can stay here with Willie spanking the monkey any longer. He’s just leaning down to start twerking when I stand up. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

  Kenzie leans over and whispers something to her friend before following my lead. I hadn’t expected her to accept, and nerves crash into me. I’m an awkward mess, and I really don’t want to scare her away.

  She will not fear us when we are at our most powerful.

  “Will you shut the fuck up?” I snarl under my breath.

  Kenzie grins. “Voices, huh?”

  “No,” I answer too quickly, and her grin only widens.

  “Spy,” Mitzy whispers, but I hear her loud and clear. Thing is, she could be right. I certainly feel like I’m cataloguing every detail in the room, noticing exits; shit, I can see pulses. Normal people shouldn’t be able to watch heartbeats throbbing in necks, right?

  The voice hums in my mind as if he’s amused. If I could deck the smooth asshole in the face, I would. But instead, he’s literally me, somehow. Fuck, I’m losing my mind.

  “So, FG, who crawled up your ass to get you here?”

  “Probably the same broom that’s up yours,” I reply so fast it surprises me. I scoff and meet her eyes in embarrassment. “Sorry, Ignore that.”

  She only smiles at me, as if my comment amused her more than anything. “You’re gonna hear a lot worse here, FG.”

  I sigh. “Could you stop calling me FG? My name’s Crane,” I remind her for the second time.

  She grins at me again, enjoying this way too much. “No can do, FG. Until you give me a better name, that’s yours.”

  “I’m watching you two,” the orderly standing against the wall growls. Kenzie rolls her eyes, and her hand twitches like she wants to flip him the bird, but she controls herself.

  His head would look good on a stake.

  “Perv,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “You know, if you’re gonna call me FG, that means I need a name for you.”

  “I have lots of names. Kenzie, bitch, troublemaker, sometimes they call me She-devil. That one’s fun.”

  I grin, my own smile wicked. “Nah, I don’t like those. I’m thinking Princess.”

  She fluffs up like a chicken instantly. “You take that back!” Her finger stabs me in the bicep even as we walk toward the door to the garden.

  “Sure thing,” I say, meeting her eyes. “Princess.”

  If we weren’t being watched by orderlies, I’m almost certain she would have slammed her fist into my skull.

  What does it say about me that I want her to?

  Chapter 6

  Kenzie

  I flip my hair over my shoulder, a snarl in the back of my throat when he repeats the stupid nickname again.

  “Prin-cess.” He breaks the word up into two distinct syllables for maximum irritation, and I hate to admit it,, but it’s working. As we come to the doors that lead to the gardens, Crane jogs ahead of me, holding the door open as I walk through.

  “How gentlemanly,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes on him as we make our way outside. It’s easy to see Crane is what my family would have called ‘raised well.’ He has perfect manners sometimes, and other times, he’s completely rude. I guess that’s what happens when you’re schizo, though. Mitzy flashes through my mind; she’s always been like family. My closest friend. She will probably never leave this place, either, because she can’t function close enough to ‘normal’ to please the doctors.

  “Well, I try.” Crane smiles shyly at me before shrugging. We walk side by side, our shoulders almost brushing but not quite. There are orderlies out here, monitoring any of the residents who venture outside. The large walls bordering the property keep us inside, but our behavior is monitored, as well. I’ve always hated it.

  “Why are you really here?” Crane asks suddenly.

  Ignoring his question, I look over the trees and bushes littering the grounds and sigh. Whisperwood really is a beautiful place. The colorful leaves brighten the grounds up. Yellows, oranges, and even some reds are dusted throughout the trees.

  “October has always been my favorite color,” I whisper, skipping toward the bigger trees closest to the wall.

  Crane runs after me, his steps crunching through the grass and few leaves that have already fallen for the year. “Hey! Don’t ignore me, I really want to know. I don’t think you tried to kill yourself.”

  My fingers fall on the rough bark of the nearest tree, and I turn to face him. “Why not?”

  “You seem . . .”

  I arch an eyebrow, waiting for the answer. My blood is already starting to boil. I don’t like being called out–I never have. And it isn’t like it’s far from the truth . . . when I’d first gotten to Whisperwood I’d been on an indefinite suicide watch.

  “You seem so full of life.” His eyes meet mine with an intensity that borders on uncomfortable. He mutters something else under his breath I can’t quite catch.

  “What is wrong with you?” Answering his question with a question seems like a better plan.

  “I’m just fucking crazy, I think.” He shrugs again, as if it’s an answer. “I checked myself in here to figure it all out.”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter. “I know lots of crazies, obviously, and none of us checked ourselves in here on our own.” I’d been committed against my will, screaming at the police and social worker as they dropped me off with the staff. It’s something t
hat still haunts my dreams sometimes. The moment I realized I was completely alone in this world and no one was going to come save me.

  Crane’s head twitches to the side as we pass the orderly.

  “No touching!”

  My eyes drop down. Our hands are close, swinging near one another, but not touching. I look from the obvious space between us and back to the orderly with a grin. As we move away, I close the distance between our shoulders, leaving only enough space for the tiniest of breaths to slip through.

  Crane’s hand swings freely in front of mine, his knuckles bumping against my fingers every so often. It feels like rebellion. It feels like some small freedom—even if this guy gets on my nerves.

  “What’s it like living here full time?”

  I roll my eyes, hoping he will move on to another question. It’s hell, sometimes, but I also don’t really know any different anymore. I shouldn’t have to explain that to a stranger.

  “Do you like working with dead bodies?” I’m curious to see how uncomfortable he gets.

  “It’s a good job, and it keeps me from having to deal with people too much.” His tone is defensive. I’m sure he gets asked this stuff all the time out in the real world, but he’s in my world right now, and I’m curious.

  “You said that earlier, but do you like working with the bodies? Do you ever get . . .?” my voice trails off.

  “What?” Crane growls, rounding on me.

  “Well, if you’re crazy and you work with naked, dead bodies–”

  “No!” Crane shakes his head, glaring at me. I can’t help but grin. He’s so worked up, and it’s kind of cute to see him lose his temper. “I don’t fuck dead people,” he growls.

  “Hmmm,” I hum noncommittally, tapping my lips. “What do you like about it other than the solitude then? There’s something else, FG.” I’m pretty sure there’s something dark in him. Something he doesn’t tell people about. Something that would drive him to bring himself to a place like this. Everyone here has their secrets. Mitzy does, and God knows I do.

  Crane looks away from me, the anger seeping out of his face. His lips part, as if he’s going to say something, but he stops short, bringing his eyes back to mine. “I like the way it feels when the instruments slice through their skin. When I’m pissed off, there’s nothing more satisfying than cracking open a set of ribs and removing all the organs hidden inside. Is that what you want to hear? Slicing away at dead people makes me feel better?”

  He’s not mad anymore, but he’s challenging me. I narrow my eyes on him, waiting for him to break, to try and take it back, but he doesn’t.

  “I want you to admit what’s true. It’s okay, you know.” I’m tempted to bump my shoulder into his, but I can feel the all-too-familiar tingling of eyes boring into the back of my head. “They’re already dead. It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong.”

  “You seem too normal to be here,” he says, shaking his head. “Or sometimes you do. Then you say something like that, and it makes me think maybe you’re fucking nuts, too, after all.”

  I wink, shooting finger guns at him. “Don’t you worry, FG, I’m plenty crazy. I’m never getting out of this place.”

  Crane’s brows crease together for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he raises his hand to my shoulder, as if he’s going to grab me. He stops a few centimeters away from brushing against the skin of my upper arm, but I can feel the heat radiating from his fingers. It’s cool outside. October in New York is cold, and I hadn’t grabbed a sweatshirt.

  “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” he asks, his gaze so intense on mine it sends goosebumps running along my arms. “If you weren’t trapped in this place, if money wasn’t an issue, where would you end up?”

  The question comes out of nowhere, and it’s deeper than anything I expected from a first stroll through the grounds of the crazy house. His eyes on me tempt me to lie, feeling too much like a bug under a magnifying glass, but the heat I feel from him standing so close forces the truth past my lips.

  “I’d want to go to England. And Ireland. And Scotland!” The words rush out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I’m slightly embarrassed. “I love reading . . . and some of my favorite stories are set there. Wuthering Heights is the most heart-breaking thing I’ve ever experienced.” Well, that’s somewhat true. Derrick had done a number on me. . .

  “Classic. Tragic. I like it,” he says, and he leans a little bit closer. If we keep this up, the orderlies will be on us soon. The next time he speaks, his voice drops lower, and I’m startled by the juxtaposition. He suddenly feels like someone else entirely as a soft growl rumbles in his chest. “What if I could take you away from here?” he whispers, his breath fanning across my lips as he leans in. I can feel the closest orderly taking a step toward us, but we aren’t touching, not yet. He moves down to spread his heat to my neck, and I inhale a shaky breath. “What if I could take you to those places?”

  “I—” I swallow the tremors in my voice, hoping he can’t hear how weak I am right now. Something about the feel of his breath on my skin is driving me insane–haha, insane. A small shiver tilts my neck, giving him better access, but I can’t convince myself to move away. “If that were actually possible, if I could go,” I whisper quietly. “I’d never look back. I dream about it. Someone meeting me at the gate, on the other side, and getting me away from here for good.”

  “A knight in shining armor, come to take you away on his black stallion.” His finger brushes gently against my own but doesn’t go any further. I can tell he’s holding himself back, though. What secrets lie beneath this man’s skin? Maybe Mitzy is right, maybe he is some kind of spy.

  “Isn’t it supposed to be a white stallion?” I breathe.

  He grins. “Mine is definitely black.” His lips brush gently against my skin, and the orderly yells at us, but we don’t break apart. I hold my breath, waiting for him to kiss me fully, the slide of his teeth against the tendons in my neck. If he keeps going, fuck the orderlies. I could care less if they have to drag us apart at this point.

  The way he inhales my skin as if it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled sends goosebumps down the back of my neck. My heart races, waiting to see what he’ll do before the orderlies get tired of our little game. He feels like danger, but I don’t care. He’s just Crane right now, and I’m just normal Kenzie.

  “You have a lovely head,” he whispers in the same deep, sexy voice that’s been popping up all night.

  Wait what?

  I blink, leaning back away from him. “I have a . . . nice head?”

  Crane blinks back at me, red creeping across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Um.”

  I snort, covering my mouth as I laugh. What in the fuck is wrong with this guy? The heat building in my middle comes to a stop, at least.

  “Move apart!” The orderly huffs, coming to stand beside us.

  I glare up at him. He’s ruining my moment. This awkward idiot has been really entertaining me, and he’s going to fuck it all up.

  “We’re not doing anything!” I snap, but I still take a few steps to the side with an eye roll.

  Crane holds his hands up in surrender, and even though his face is flushed in embarrassment, I don’t miss the way his eyes rake down my body. Even in standard issued clothing, it makes me feel sexy in ways I never felt with Derrick. “We were just talking.”

  The orderly rolls his eyes. “Sure. If that’s what you call talking, you’re gonna be trouble, newbie. You two were practically screwing already.”

  “Oh, trust me, you’d know if we were fucking,” Crane says in the deep voice again and then immediately turns even more red, as if he can’t control the words. His arms raise higher in surrender. I almost laugh at the sight.

  “Trust me,” the ugly orderly sneers. “We all know when she’s fucking.”

  My blood turns to ice in my veins as reality slams into me, again. No one had mentioned Derrick to me since isolation
. My fists curl up into balls at my side as I suck in a breath, ready to lunge at the red-headed twatopotamus for blowing up my spot in front of FG.

  “What is your fucking problem?” I scream, my chest rising and falling as rage twists everything inside me. Crane’s eyes look between us, and his hands begin to fall. The embarrassment disappears, but I don’t pay him any mind.

  “My problem is sluts getting good guys fired because they can’t keep their legs closed.”

  “That’s not what happened!” I draw my hand back, ready to knock the asshole out for running his mouth about shit he doesn’t know anything about. There were bound to be rumors but this . . .

  Crane grabs my wrist, pulling my hand down to my side. I tense under his touch. Was he really this fucking dumb? My gaze falls first to his hand, then raises back up to his face, but he’s not looking at me at all. He’s zeroed in on the man bothering us.

  “Your head would look great on a pike,” he whispers as he stares at the orderly. “Blood is a different shade of red, but I think it’ll compliment your copper curls nicely. What do you think, fire crotch?” His voice is low, deadly, and while the threat isn’t one I’d personally make . . . something about it sends a shiver down my spine.

  The orderly’s eyes go wide, tracing a path from Crane’s face down to where he still holds my wrist hostage, refusing to let me move. “Get back inside, both of you.” His voice is raised, he’s trying to assert authority even as his voice shakes with fear.

  I tilt my chin up, staring smugly at . . . Liam. My eyes hone in on his nametag, and I make a note of it. Keeping up with all the orderlies is hard in a place like this, but this one? This one just made my shit list.

  I stomp away from them, my arm tugging painfully out of Crane’s grasp as I make my way toward the doors. I don’t want to be out here anymore. That asshole Liam ruined a perfectly good moment with bullshit that didn’t need to be brought up.

  As I make my way up the stairs, I can hear footsteps behind me, and I tense, waiting for Crane to speak. I know he’s going to have questions, but I just don’t feel like answering them. My shoulders sag, the energy leaving my body as I take one step after another, focusing on the doors ahead of us.