3. June

Chapter three

June

T he days bleed together, an endless monotony of sterile white walls and the cloying stench of antiseptic. I feel like I'm losing my mind in here, the walls of this glorified cage closing in until I can barely breathe.

But I can't let it show. Can't let the cracks in my fa?ade widen, lest they see the twisted, writhing thing lurking beneath. So I play the part they've assigned me, the dutiful patient, contrite and cooperative.

It's easy enough, in the beginning. I've always been good at wearing masks, at slipping into whatever role is required of me. The charismatic charmer, the ruthless businessman, the devoted son...

And now, the reformed sinner, desperate to atone for his wicked ways.

I smile at the nurses, all boyish contrition and wounded vulnerability. I spill my guts in therapy, weaving a tapestry of half-truths and outright lies, painting myself as the victim of my own toxic impulses.

"I just want to be better," I tell them, my eyes wide and earnest. "I want to be the man she deserves. The man I know I can be."

But even as the words leave my lips, a flicker of doubt sparks to life in my chest. Am I really capable of change? Can I truly shed the darkness that clings to my soul like a second skin?

For a moment, the mask slips, and I feel a yawning chasm of fear and loneliness open up within me. The scared, broken boy I've tried so hard to bury rears his head, whimpering in the shadows.

But I quickly shove him back down, locking him away in the deepest recesses of my mind. I can't afford weakness. Not now. Not when my very sanity hangs in the balance.

And so I press on, playing the game, telling them what they want to hear. But all the while, my mind is consumed with thoughts of her.

Cara.

The name is a prayer, a curse, an incantation seared into my very bones. She is the light to my darkness, the salvation to my damnation. And I will move heaven and hell to get back to her.

I start small, gathering information, hoarding secrets like a dragon guarding its treasure. I charm the nurses, trading flirtatious smiles and whispered confidences. I study the orderlies, learning their routines, their weaknesses.

And piece by piece, the puzzle begins to take shape.

I learn the blind spots in the security cameras, the gaps in the guard rotations. I memorize the layout of the facility, every exit and emergency route.

But it's not enough. I need more. More access, more freedom to move.

And then, like a gift from the gods, Dr. Brenneman enters the picture.

He's a pompous ass, all puffed up self-importance and barely concealed contempt. But he's also my ticket out of here. My key to the kingdom.

I start slowly, letting him think he's the one in control. I hang on his every word in therapy, nodding along with wide-eyed sincerity as he spouts his pseudo-intellectual bullshit.

"You're so insightful, Doctor," I gush, laying it on thick. "I feel like you really understand me. Like you're the only one who can help me get better."

His chest puffs up with pride, his ego stroked like a purring cat. He laps up the praise, growing bolder, more careless with each session.

And then, the breaking point. A confrontation in the hallway, Nurse Ratched's sneering face inches from my own.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" she hisses, her eyes glinting with malice. "Batting your eyelashes, playing the poor, misunderstood boy. But I see through you, Juniper Deveaux. I know what you are."

I feel a flash of fear, my carefully constructed mask slipping for just a moment. But I quickly recover, schooling my features into a look of wounded confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nurse Ratched," I say, my voice trembling with just the right amount of vulnerable sincerity. "I'm just trying to get better. To be a good patient."

Her lip curls in a sneer, her fingers tightening around my arm in a bruising grip. "You're a liar and a manipulator. And I won't let you corrupt Dr. Brenneman with your twisted little games."

It's like a switch flips in my brain, a red haze descending over my vision. I feel the darkness rising up within me, the monster clawing at its chains.

But I shove it back down, forcing a look of terrified anguish onto my face. "Please, Nurse Ratched. You're hurting me. I...I don't understand. What have I done wrong?"

And then, like a fucking white knight, Dr. Brenneman appears. He takes one look at the scene, at Nurse Ratched's grip on my arm and my tear-filled eyes, and his face hardens with righteous indignation.

"What's going on here?" he demands, his voice booming with authority.

Nurse Ratched releases me like I'm a live wire, taking a step back. "Doctor, I was just--"

"You were just assaulting a patient, is what you were doing," he cuts her off, his eyes flashing with anger. "This is unacceptable behavior, Nurse Ratched. I won't stand for it."

He turns to me, his expression softening with concern. "Juniper, are you alright? Did she hurt you?"

I let my lower lip tremble, a single tear tracking down my cheek. "I...I don't know what I did wrong, Doctor. I was just trying to be good."

He nods, patting my shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "You didn't do anything wrong, my boy. Nurse Ratched's behavior was completely out of line. I'll deal with her, don't you worry."

And just like that, he leads me away, his arm around my shoulders like a protective shield.

It's almost too easy, the way he falls for it.

As time passes he laps up my gratitude, my adoration. He grants me small privileges, extra time in the gardens, a taste of freedom I've been craving. I walk a dangerous tightrope, plotting my escape while maintaining the illusion of compliance.

But even as I scheme, a voice whispers doubt. What if I fail? What if I'm condemned to waste away in this sterile hell, with only the memory of Cara to sustain me?

The thought is devastating. Cara is my lifeline, my reason for fighting. And it's during one of these precious garden walks that I seize my chance.

"You know, Doc," I say, keeping my voice low and conspiratorial, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said in our last session. About facing my demons, owning my mistakes."

Dr. Brenneman nods, his expression a mix of smugness and condescension. "I'm glad to hear it, Juniper. Acknowledging our faults is the first step towards true healing."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, to let the mask slip for even a moment. Instead, I paste on a look of earnest contrition, ducking my head as if in shame.

"I want to make amends," I continue, injecting a quaver of emotion into my voice. "To the people I've hurt. Especially Cara."

At the mention of her name, Dr. Brenneman's brow furrows, his gaze sharpening with disapproval. "Juniper, we've talked about this. Your relationship with Ms. Briers is unhealthy, toxic. It's best for both of you to maintain distance."

I shake my head, letting a hint of desperation bleed into my expression. "But that's just it, Doc. I need closure. I need to apologize, to let her know how sorry I am for everything I've put her through."

I step closer, lowering my voice to a fevered whisper. "Please, Doctor. I'm begging you. Just one phone call. One chance to make things right. It's the only way I'll ever be able to move on, to truly heal."

Dr. Brenneman hesitates, conflict warring across his features. I can see the gears turning in his mind, the calculations of risk and reward.

And then, just as I knew he would, he crumbles.

"Very well," he says, his tone clipped and reluctant. "One call, supervised. And if I feel the conversation is becoming detrimental, I reserve the right to terminate it immediately."

I nod frantically, a grateful smile splitting my face. "Of course, Doctor. Thank you. Thank you so much."

He leads me back inside, to his office. The phone sits on his desk like a coiled serpent, a temptation and a promise all in one.

With trembling fingers, I dial the number I know by heart, the digits seared into my brain. It rings once, twice, and then...

"Hello?" Her voice, groggy and confused, filters through the receiver like a siren's song, and I feel something in my chest crack wide open.

"Cara," I breathe, and it's like a prayer, a benediction. "It's me."

There's a sharp intake of breath, a pause that stretches for an eternity. And then, like a dam bursting, the words come pouring out.

"June? Oh my God, June. Where are you? Are you okay? What happened?"

I close my eyes, letting her voice wash over me, a balm to my battered soul. "I'm okay," I assure her, even as the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. "I'm in a...a facility. A hospital."

"A hospital?" Her voice rises with alarm, tinged with panic. "June, what's going on? Please, talk to me."

I swallow hard, forcing back the rising tide of emotion that threatens to choke me. "It's a long story," I manage, my voice rough and raw. "But I need you to know, Cara. I need you to know that I'm sorry. For everything."

She's crying now, I can hear it in the hitch of her breath. "June, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it, love?"

"I'm pregnant."

The world stops. For a moment, there's only static, the deafening roar of disbelief.

"Pregnant?" I echo, my voice a strangled rasp.

"You're going to be a father, June." Her words cut through the chaos, soft yet certain.

Emotion clogs my throat, a heady mix of elation and terror. A father. The enormity of it threatens to overwhelm me.

But beneath the shock, a fierce protectiveness surges to life. This child, our child...I would burn the world to ash to keep them safe.

"Cara," I manage, pouring every ounce of love and conviction into her name. "I'm going to get out of here. I'm going to come back to you, to both of you. I promise."

"I know," she whispers, and the faith in her voice is a balm to my battered soul. "I love you, June. We'll be waiting for you."

Dr. Brenneman's presence looms, a reminder of the cage that still holds me. "I love you too," I choke out. "More than anything. I have to go, but Cara...hold on for me. I'm coming."

The line goes dead, and I'm left reeling, my heart pounding against my ribcage. A baby. A piece of Cara and I, growing even now.

Dr. Brenneman clears his throat, a pointed reminder of his authority, his control. "I hope that provided the closure you needed, Juniper," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Inside, I'm screaming, raging against the cage of my own making.

But I swallow it down, force it into submission. I can't afford to lose control. Not now. Not when I'm so close to freedom I can taste it.

"It did," I manage, my voice carefully neutral. "Thank you, Doctor. For everything."

He nods, a dismissive jerk of his chin. "Very well. You may return to your room."

I stand, my legs leaden, and make my way to the door. But as my hand touches the knob, Dr. Brenneman's voice stops me in my tracks.

"And Juniper?" he calls, a note of warning in his tone. "Don't mistake my generosity for weakness. You're here for a reason. And you will complete your treatment, one way or another."

I pause, my back to him, and let a slow smile curve my lips. It's a vicious thing, all sharp edges and barely restrained violence.

"Of course, Doctor," I say, my voice honey-sweet and dripping with venom. "I wouldn't dream of it."

And then I'm gone, stalking down the hallway with renewed purpose, my mind awhirl with half-formed plans and desperate schemes.

Because I will get out of here. I will find my way back to Cara and our child.