Lunatic (Ruthless Asylum #1) - K.L. Savage Page 0,2

does that make it? Thirty?”

Thirty-five. He’s close enough. It’s been a long fucking time and guess what? I’m going to get the fuck out of here today. I’m done living my life behind bars. Apparently, my stepdad and mom died, leaving a shit ton of money to Martin, only for him to fucking die too.

The bastard of course paid for me to stay for so long, I’d die here, and my soul would be taken care of behind these bars.

I ain’t a bad guy. I just want out. I can prove that I can be worthy to the world.

“Jesus, you’ve been here longer than I’ve been alive, you know that?” Huck, the guard, taunts through the small speaker in the window.

I ignore him the best I can and continue to do my pushups. If there is one thing this place has offered me, besides drugging me up, it’s the chance to work on my strength. They keep my head in a fog, so I don’t have manic episodes, but I’m done feeling like a zombie.

I’m ready to release what’s been buried inside for over thirty years.

“Hey, I’m fucking talking to you, crazy-fuck,” the guard says, swiping his card across the scanner. The door buzzes to allow him in and his boots thud heavily, getting closer and closer until my chin hits the tip of the leather. “Can you not understand me? Are you stupid too?” he asks, trying to rile me up.

I’ve been a damn good patient here in this fucking cage, but you know what? I’m tired of feeling like a pet. I’m only fed when I’m allowed, and when I’m told to heel, I have to. Years ago, I made a plan. Years ago, I learned the layout of the property when I had my walks. Years ago, I learned the inside of the building like the back of my hand.

I’ve been working myself up, building strength, because I know more guards will come, and I need to be able to take them down.

I’ve only known one man to escape the facility, and that’s Porter. He said he’d find a place for us to live, but in order to get there, I have to call the number at the bottom of the letter. I will when I get out, and this time, I’m not going to pull a Porter.

I’m going try and take as many with me as I can. No one deserves to be locked up, beaten, and starved, just because we are a little different.

I’m tired of taking medication every day that makes me so numb, I can hardly remember what I had for breakfast.

Huck lifts his boot and the rounded tip of the leather presses under my chin. “I’m talking to you. I won’t say it again,” he says.

I freeze mid-pushup and close my eyes as the rapid thoughts invade my mind. The familiar manic energy starts to pump, but it’s muted from the medication. I only stopped taking it a few days ago. Considering how long I’ve been on it, I’m going to assume it’s going to take some time to get it all out of my system.

Do I want to keep taking the medication? Maybe, but in smaller doses. I haven’t decided yet.

The musky leather of his shoe invades my nostrils. I can smell the strong fumes of polish and the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. “You’re too fucking close if I can smell the shit you stepped in outside,” I say, keeping my voice level and calm.

I’m too fucking old to get too worked up. Forty-five will do that to a man, especially when he has been in a cage for most of his life.

The baton replaces his boot. At first, it’s colder against my skin before warming to my temperature. “What did you just say?” he sneers.

I grab his baton, sweat dripping in my eye and stand to my full height. I yank the weapon from his hand, staring down at him as he looks up at me. Yeah, I get that a lot. People think they are so big and bad outside these walls, but once they are in here with me, they change their tune. “I said, I can smell the dog shit on your boot.” I plunge the baton into his gut, then whip it up and slam him in the face. Blood spews from his mouth, along with a tooth, and the red liquid spatters along the tile.

“You’re in so much trouble.”

“No,” I grunt, kicking