Page 23 of Wicked Vile King
Gabe bursts out laughing, cackling like the maniac he is, at my side as more of our dear overlords funnel into the room and disperse like cockroaches. I lock eyes again with my pet, and time slows as she watches the beautiful chaos, her eyes going wide, white rimming her irises. She looks afraid—seconds away from pissing herself even—and if I had a conscience, I'd probably mouth the words,It's okayorI'll protect you, but instead, I file the knowledge of her fear away in the shit-to-use-against-her cabinet.
A blink later, and I'm shoved from behind. My knees hit the stone floor hard as Gabe continues to guffaw, his entire body shaking with his laughter, before he's knocked to the floor beside me. When I look at my pet again, she's still staring, but not at me. She's frozen and slack-jawed, captivated by the fistfights, the shattered trays, and the guards tackling students. Gabe laughs even harder as I stare at her, and she swallows, like she's trying to not be sick.
The realization hits me abruptly. What she said before about not knowing why she was here?I think she's telling the truth because the way she's surveying the ongoing crime scene right now makes me wonder if they really did just stick a lost lamb in the middle of a lion's den.
My poor little pet. I'll protect her if she asks nicely. Well, no, that's not true. Let me clarify. I'll protect her if it benefits me.
A girl falls ten or so feet in front of us, taking a baton to the back from one guard and a knockout punch to the face by another. Blood spurts everywhere as she collapses—staining the floor, the side of the table, and the metal undercarriage beneath it—to hit Killian square in the face.
I get secondhand splatter and laugh with Gabe as someone grabs my wrists and zip-ties them behind my back. The taste of blood, copper pennies and iron pills, lingers on my tongue as Kill curses on the ground at my side. I'm still laughing when I cock my head and watch the moment my pet's roommate pushes her to the ground.
My pet falls to her knees, landing with anoomphI swear I hear over Gabe still cackling like a maniac beside me and Killian's grumbling as he tries to wipe the blood off his face against the floor, his hands hog-tied behind him.
Her eyes, the color of poured gold and honey, are still wide, but her hair is askew when she peers up from the floor, messy strands pointing everywhere as her roommate pushes her down again, grabs her hands, and interlaces her fingers behind her head.
"Stay on the ground!" a guard bellows behind me. "On the ground! On the ground now!"
It's like a chant at this point as one of the fuckers—this one with thinning hair and a bald spot the size of my fist—fights to put the restraints on Jenks. Two more join him, and it takes all three to wrestle the guy to the ground and get them on him.
Locking leather ankle hobbles and wrist restraints.
A humane jacket made of canvas fabric that criss-crosses your arms and binds them with leather straps around your back.
A face shield, strapped tight, locking at the back across his short blond hair, so that he can't bite the bastards on his way to the hole.
It kills the humor for me.
It sucks for Jenks. Everyone knows the motherfucker doesn't belong here. He's got the mental capacity of an eight-year-old, maybe even less, but no one ends up at the Asylum for help. We are the discarded and forgotten, sent here because the world can't figure out what the fuck to do with us.
"On your knees, asshole!" another guard shouts off to my left, and for some unknown reason, this causes Gabe to laugh even harder, until he's out of breath, wheezing and shaking at my side.
I press my cheek against the floor and find her again.
She's still scared, her pale face blanched even paler as she lies on the cold stone beside her roommate, shaking with her fear. Still, through it all, she meets my gaze, even as it cuts in and out, guards darting between us and severing the link. I'm surprised to find that when she looks at me, I don't see complete disdain in her stare. If anything, she looks at me like she finally sees me for what I am and understands, but that's crazy because if she did, she'd be running in terror and begging them to throw her in the hole with Jenks.
She's scared, but not of me, not right now at least. No, she's terrified of the people currently trying to beat each other to death and fighting up until the moment they are hog-tied and left on the floor. It's an unfortunate choice on her part because this shit right here is predictable. If you look for the signs, you can watch this place dissolve into anarchy in slow motion. But me, I'm not predictable, and that should scare her even more than the guard lashing a girl to her right with the baton as he tries to wrestle a tray from her hand like it's a shiv and not plastic.
Wee-ooo, wee-ooo, wee.
"Stay the fuck down!" one of the guards bellows as quiet creeps over the room, spreading slowly as the major players in today's shitfest are contained. One by one, students are restrained. They fight and wiggle until exhaustion hits hard, and then the guards drag them to their feet by their elbows and cart them away for Butcher's special treatment.
I count twenty-one bodies on their way to solitary. Not a bad number, but we could've—and have—done better. Gabe's laughter dies as the dining hall quiets and Kill stops in his life-quest to clean his face.
"Let go of me!" a girl yells, the last of the students who remain unrestrained. She tries to kick one of the guards in the balls and almost meets her target with a direct hit.Almost. I smile even wider when he curses, spittle shooting out with the word, and limps forward before he finally manages to take her down.
"Girls on me!" a female guard calls before she pulls my pet's roommate and then my pet to standing and starts a line.
"Lockdown!" another one radios in through his walkie-talkie. I should probably be mad since this shit is interfering with my playtime with my pet, but I'm not. It's beautiful. A good fight is always the perfect prescription for the boredom that itches at my brain.
"Boys up!" another guard yells as the sirens finally shut off.
A moment later, I'm jerked upright and steered to a single-file line at the nearest guard. The guy is wheezing and out of breath, beads of sweat budding on his forehead and dripping down his nose. It makes me smile all over again. They made the bastards work for it.
We're going to be on lockdown for the rest of the day for sure, with meals delivered to our rooms, no outside time, and all that not-fun shit, but we made them work for it.
I catch sight of my pet leaving the room in the girl's line, headed back to their dormitory.
"Move!" a guard orders, and I stare at the back of Kill's head as we leave the dining hall in a single-file line. A pair of guards man the front and the back of the line. They scatter when it's quiet, but when the time is right, when they really lose control, the bastards all manage to miraculously appear to do their jobs.
