Page 46 of Wicked Nightmare

My mind raced, scanning through every detail of the sickening photo. The clinical setting. The needles. The vacant look in Lakey's usually vibrant eyes as they stared at the ceiling. They had an IV running into her arm and electrodes attached to her skull and chest, but for some reason, they hadn’t shut her eyes. Had she been semi conscious for this? Had she felt it?

I wanted to rip open a skull. To plunge my fingers into the soft of their eyeballs before ripping them from their eye sockets. To hunt down every motherfucker who'd laid a hand on her and make them suffer. Struggling to take a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment. First, I had to go through the motions.

Get Lakes through this. Then murder.

"Hey," I turned her face towards mine. "We're gonna split ‘em open like stuck pigs. Every last one of them. I’m thinking a very horror-adjacent scene. We can pour their blood all over us and bathe in it. Isn’t that a thing? Bathing in the blood of your enemies?"

A slow, wicked smile spread across Lakey's face. "Mmm, I do love that idea."

Lakey continued sifting through the contents. The cold detachment that settled over me as I eyed the photos was the only thing that held me together enough to sit still and not light this room on fire.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, eyeing a particularly gruesome photo. "Looks like they were trying to recreate Saw in there. Maybe we should send them a cease and desist for copyright infringement."

Lakey snorted, her fingers tracing over a nasty scar on her arm. "I think I prefer Jigsaw's methods, honestly. At least he had some flair. My favorite was the angel one. Ooooh, now there’s an idea."

I barked out a laugh, but it felt hollow. My girl, my vicious little nightmare, reduced to a lab rat. My muscles were so tense, they could snap at the lightest touch.

"Hey, Lakes. Remember when our biggest problem was day dreaming about how to dispose of Bill’s body? Good times, huh?"

She elbowed me playfully, opening her mouth as if to say something, but then she stiffened as she pulled out a new sheet of paper. Her face went pale, blue eyes widening at the clinical text.

"Cam," she whispered, voice uncharacteristically small. "They... they chemically castrated me."

The world tilted on its axis. My arms tightened around her instinctively, possessively. Holy fuck. Everything clicked into place. We hadn’t used birth control for years… and…

"Those fucking bastards," my teeth ground so hard my jaw clicked. "Holy fuck."

Lakey turned to me, a storm cloud in her eyes despite the tears threatening to spill over. "I wanted to be a fucking mother, Cam. I wanted to have a baby. You and me. They fucking took that from me.” She screamed, anguish echoing in the small room.

Suddenly, her face contorted. She stumbled off my lap, nearly tripping over her own feet as she lurched towards the recycling bin in the corner. My heart twisted, as she retched violently into it.

"Shit, Lakes," I muttered, pushing myself up from the worn chair. My anger was replaced by concern as I crossed the room in two long strides. I placed my hand on her back, feeling the tremors wracking her small frame as she continued to heave.

"It's okay, baby," I rubbed gentle circles between her shoulder blades. "Let it out. I've got you."

It was fucked up, really. Here I was, a diagnosed narcissistic sociopath, feeling my chest constrict at the sight of her pain. Theoretically, I shouldn’t feel much of anything. Though, I’m not as ‘clinically deranged’ as Lakey. Their words, not mine.

She had always been my exception, the one person who could make me feel... well, anything. Love, if it could go by that name. Because really, what is love except for an innate burning to avenge those who hurt your person? The more we stepped into this type of darkness, the righter my love for her felt. Mine was nothing like this. Mine was almost protective in nature, tied to the one person who had never let me down. It sat in my chest, feeling all kinds of fucked. I actively recoiled against the sensation, trying to soothe the utter repulsion I felt at what they did to her.

The world didn’t understand us, but it never mattered. We were psycho squared, stronger together than we ever were apart. We didn’t need anyone to ‘get us’, and now that much had become clear. They’d taken something, something precious from my girl. All the late-night talks where she’d joke about how she was unstable, but she’d give anything to be a mom. She’d always turned everything into a comedy skit, but the need for her was real.

I couldn’t name a single woman that could have been a better mother. Who do you know that would slice the dick and balls off someone for being a sick fuck? No one, and that’s the point. Everyone cowers in their homes, waiting for someone else to do what needs to be done.

But not my Lakes.

She would have made a phenomenal mother and now… well…

They just sealed themselves in a very special hell. One where heaven becomes a distorted version of choosing whether they lose their left hand or their right first before losing them both.

When the heaving finally subsided, Lakey straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to face me, and the sight of tears brimming in those light blue eyes hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

Our gazes locked, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken words passed between us. My hands clenched, a fresh wave of fury washing over me as I saw the raw vulnerability in her expression. It was a side of Lakey that almost never surfaced, the scared little girl I protected ages ago.

"I'll kill them all," I promised. "Every last fucker who touched you. They'll wish they'd never been born by the time I'm done with them."

“My salvation," she whispered, but her voice was shaky.

I pulled her into my arms, one hand cupping the back of her head as she buried her face in my chest. She tilted her face upward, kissing me softly while I wiped the wetness off her cheeks.