It's easier to walk around the box in the middle of my floor than to squish it down and take it out to the dumpster. This is me not knowing what to say here.
I think I'm whispering, over and over, shaking my head along with my words. "No. No. No. No."
I know I'm crying, tears down my cheeks, collecting in standing pools of fear against my neck. I ache to claw at the sticky, but whatever energy I have left in my arms is put toward pushing him away.
He shushes me, bringing my arms up around his neck instead. "There, there, Isabella. Let me do my job now."
He leans in for a kiss, despite my protests, and all I can do through this fog is accept my fate and wait for the disgusting press of his lips. I close my eyes, thinking it would be easier to ignore it that way, holding my breath until I realize the harsh exhalations of air isn't coming from me or him and that the kiss never did land on my lips. So I open my eyes and see Orderly Hale, his spine stiff and glancing over his shoulder.
There's a woman in the middle of my prison, grasping at her chest through her uniform as if she's trying to claw her heart out. "Hale…" she wheezes.
"Patient Rosalie," Orderly Hale says with a bit of stern in his voice. "What are you doing?"
"I have that feeling again." She tilts her head, long curly blonde hair brushing her thighs as she tries to rip at her shirt.
"Go find Orderly King."
"I tried!" she whines, almost hyperventilating as she grabs at her hem.
Orderly Hale stands up, his hands reaching out to her. "Patient Rosalie. Take control of yourself!"
With each step Orderly Hale takes away from me, a little bit of the fog sitting on my mind slips away. Nothing good can come out of it because since when did that ever happen to me, but I just know this is my chance, so I slip from the bed, pressing my back against the wall as I tiptoe against the edges of the prison and toward the door.
"Hale!" Patient Rosalie screams. "I need help!"
It's like watching in slow motion. Her blonde arching over her body like curling drops of golden rain as she throws herself back onto her heels. White knuckled fingers clench onto beige cotton so tightly I can almost hear the fabric ripping as she whips all of it over her head and away from her body.
Orderly Hale and I both freeze for completely different reasons, our gaze drawing to the heaving heavy tits. He's the first to recover with small steps toward the half-naked woman, whispering, "Yes, Patient. Let me help you."
I don't want to watch, and before I can even make the decision to leave, there's a hand in mine and green, green eyes calling my attention.
"Hurry, Wendy! Let's go!"