AVERY’S POV:The psychiatric hospital was tucked just outside the city, surrounded by white-barked trees that looked like skeletons in the morning light. The building itself was a blend of glass and concrete. Almost like it wanted to pretend it wasn’t a place people went to lose their minds.Inside, the air was cold and dry, perfumed with bleach and artificial calm. A pair of nurses walked past me in mint-green scrubs, their expressions stiff, rehearsed. At a distant corner, a patient sat strapped into a lounge chair, rocking gently while murmuring to the air.The walls were off-white, the lighting flat. There were paintings—sunsets, lakes, flowers—all hung too precisely. This place wasn’t about healing. It was about maintaining the illusion of order.“May I help you, ma’am?” A young woman behind the front desk asked.“I’m here to see Lyra Russell.”“I’m sorry, visits—”“Tell your supervisor that Avery Blackwood is here.” I leveled my voice with finality. “You know who I am. So let’s
Last Updated : 2025-05-30 Read more