Reckless Games (Reckless Mafia #1)

Chapter 29

Angela

I had lost count of the days, maybe even weeks, I had spent in this mental asylum. It was one for me. The routine was unendingly monotonous: wake up, breakfast, therapy, lunch, more therapy, dinner, and then a sleepless night filled with nightmares and restless tossing.

I felt like a caged animal, trapped within these walls by the insistence of doctors who thought they knew better. The worst part was Jacob. He was the one who had convinced them to keep me here, believing it was for my own good. Every time I saw him, anger surged through me. He couldn’t understand that I felt fine.

“Good morning, Angela,” Nurse Clara said with her usual forced cheerfulness as she entered my room with a tray of bland breakfast food.

“Morning,” I muttered, barely glancing at her. I picked at the food, not really hungry but knowing I had to eat if I wanted any chance of convincing them I was better.

The physical and mental therapy sessions were the worst. Again, it was Jacob’s idea. Dr. Harris would sit across from me, her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and professional detachment.

“How are you feeling today, Angela?” She would always start.

“Fine,” I’d reply, my voice flat. “I feel fine.”

She’d nod sympathetically, jotting down notes on her pad. “These things take time. You’ve been through a lot.”

I wanted to scream at her, to tear the notebook from her hands and shred it into pieces. To prove to her somehow that I wasn’t a mental patient here! I get it; whatever happened was traumatic, but if the patient was insisting that they were fine, then why couldn’t the doctors just understand that? Just because I didn’t talk much, does not mean I’m depressed! Though staying in this place for long could definitely change that. It was frustrating. I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay calm. They wouldn’t discharge me if they thought I was overexerting myself.

The days blurred together. I spent hours staring out the window, watching the world outside move on without me. The sky would change from blue to gray and then to the deep indigo of night, but it all felt the same.

So I finally made the decision of getting out of here. At 6:30 AM, I got dressed in the stolen scrubs and waited. The moments stretched out endlessly and my heart thudding in my throat. Finally, at 6:50 AM, Nurse Clara entered with my breakfast tray. She smiled at me. I returned her smile, forcing myself to stay calm. Once she left, I counted to one hundred, giving her enough time to move on to the next room. I slipped out of bed, retrieved my stash from the mattress, and headed for the door. I moved quietly.

The hallway was deserted. I knew I had to act quickly. I swiped the keycard I had stolen from Clara, praying it would work. The door clicked open, and I stepped into the staff-only corridor. My heart raced as I made my way to the stairwell. I knew the main elevators were too risky—too many people, too many chances to be seen.

I descended the stairs swiftly with my senses on high alert. When I reached the ground floor, I peered through the small window in the stairwell door. The reception area was right in front of my eyes, but there were nurses and security guards milling about. I took a deep breath, waiting for the right moment.

At around 7:15 AM, a delivery truck arrived, and the guards moved to assist. This was my chance. I pushed open the door and walked briskly toward the exit, keeping my head down and my pace steady. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run, but I forced myself to stay calm.

As I reached the front door, a guard glanced my way. I flashed a confident smile, hoping my disguise was convincing enough. He nodded absently and turned back to his conversation. I pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting my face like a blast of freedom.

I kept walking, not daring to look back until I was several blocks away. Only then did I allow myself to breathe. I had done it. I was free.

I walked down the road, glancing over my shoulder every few moments to ensure no one was following me. The city was waking up, people were going about their morning routines, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a small sense of normalcy.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the car until it was too late. It wasn't speeding, but it caught me off guard, nudging me hard enough to make me stumble. Pain shot through my chest where the bullet wound was. I can’t believe it’s been five months but the ache is still erupts in moments like such. I hissed, clutching my chest as I tried to steady myself.

The car screeched to a halt, and I could hear the driver's door open. "Oh my God, are you alright?" a voice called out, filled with concern. I looked up, ready to wave them off, but froze when I saw who it was.

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