CHAOTIC

O n e

(Please note that there is a 2 month time jump from the events of the last book to this one.)

Chapter 1:

To be perfectly honest, Caleb was starting to feel exasperated by the number of times he caught the guard outside his room staring at him as if he was an alien if some sort.

Its not that it bothers him that the guard, bill was his name, was looking at him as if he were an alien. Because Caleb knows he isn't an alien. Aliens don't exist. And also, reasonable people don't believe in aliens so that just makes bill look like the psychotic one really.

What bothers Caleb is the lack of privacy in his newfound hellhole. It's nicer than the previous sanatorium but all the eyes on him gives him anxiety.

There are multiple camera's in this room. Each of which aren't difficult to break at all. He's sad to say that he knows this because he's already tried. Twice. Each time he punched the camera's in, a whole team of guards would come in and sedate him immediately while cleaning up his bloody hand as he's out of it. Which was not fun. So he'd rather not try that again.

As well as the camera's, bowlcut bill and the other guard puny fucking Pete won't stop staring at him. As if he's going to break out if the turn their back on him for one second.

Caleb's insulted frankly, that these two are his guards. They're both short and skinny and Caleb could probably snap their necks with his eyes closed and a broken arm. The ones that come in to sedate him look far stronger and seem much of a closer match for Caleb.

He's allowed to roam around free in the large space of his room when alone. But when there's visitors, Caleb's ankle must be cuffed to the leg of his small, uncomfortable bed that looks too much like a prison cot for his liking.

He doesn't feel the need to talk to those who do come and visit him. His doctors, his nurses, his therapist. All they'll do is judge him. Everyone is always judges him. Even before he's said a word.

If he stays silent, it'll give less away to them. Less for them to judge. More for them to be scared of and scurry away to hopefully never come back.

Unfortunately, this whole selective mutism doesn't sit well with the police who come in to try and ask him questions.

Questions about that night. Questions about Alexa. Questions about Marcus.

The questions only encourage his nightmares and he knows that staying silent is the only way to keep those at bay when darkness falls in the night.

He always has the same one. The beginning is always a different scenario but it always starts with Alexa. She's hugging him, kissing him, laughing at him or teasing him. But they all end the same. They all end in bright golden flames and the vibrance of the colour alone burns his eyes.

He would never have gone to sleep in the first place all these weeks if he had a choice in the matter.

But they force him sleeping tablets which force the nightmares and he just can't escape them. It's a whole different type of torture, except this time, it's one he can't get used to.

He's just about to close his eyes for a nap when he's interrupted by bill who walks in through the door with cuffs in his hands without knocking.

Caleb stays in his bed but doesn't fail to shoot a glare at the man as he approaches. "You've got a visitor. You know the drill."

Caleb frowns. A visitor? His therapist wasn't due for 3 days. And his medication is finished for the day. He sits up and swings his legs over the bed and the guards gets straight to cuffing his ankle down to the post.

"You got a friend we don't know about?" The guard asks sarcastically.

Caleb doesn't reply and simply glares at the man again.

Bill chuckles again and pulls on the cuff around his ankle to make sure it's secure. "I always love our chats, Castillo." He says pronouncing the L's in his surname before leaving the room.

The door opens again and Caleb confused by the figure that walks in.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"