Thanks for sticking around all my messy ways.
I don't like him.
He pulls at my bindings, leading me like a dog through the hall. Eyes peek out from behind barely closed doors, tattered dresses whispering through the cracks. Curiosity follows as I'm taken to my own prison of steel bars and concrete walls.
"Here we are," Too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright says. "This space is all yours."
He gestures to the blank enclosure, dirty from years of misuse, and the folded mattress sitting on top of the wire bed frame. It screams deserted to me. Because that's what I was. No matter how hard he tries to convince me differently. Emmett would say to stay positive. To not let the darkness take me. To remember who I am and stay strong until I can go home.
I don't like him.
Too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright glances over at me, a slight frown marring that smile. "Here. Let me help you with that."
He grabs my wrists gently, wrapping his fingers around until the tips touch, stroking at the bindings and soothing where I've rubbed raw. With a click, the binds fall away, leaving me free and yet trapped at the same time as he pulls me toward him. Only slightly. Not enough to cause alarm. But I feel it. And I hate it.
"I'm Orderly 4311, but everyone here calls me Hale. You're Isabella, right?"
I don't like him.
He's taller than me. I have to bend my neck back just to look into his eyes. They're so blue, glittering against all the dull in the background. It's almost other worldly just how much they stand out. Almost as crazed as I would expect a patient's eyes would look like. But he's not a patient. He's a man. Put here to protect me. To heal me. To send me home whole.
"Isabella," he whispers across my skin. "I like that name. Very beautiful. Just like you."
Those fingers on my wrists leave trails of cold up my arms, swiping thumbs at my elbows, knuckles digging into my shoulders. Until his palms are cupping my cheeks, relief against my wind-burned skin. His lips are kind as they brush against my forehead, whispering words of comfort and affection.
"Don't you worry, Isabella. I'm here to save you."
I don't like him.