Uncensored (New York Unraveled #5)

2. Trystan

It took me two weeks to get rid of all the charges that the blasted woman had put on me. Fine, maybe being drunk when I went to claim my only living family back wasn't the smartest option. But give me a break here. I just lost my brother and sister-in-law. And how did I get that news? By a weird fifty year old convicted pedophile who had overheard it from one of the detox specialists. I had to sneak around and make phone calls to various hospitals until they finally told me what had happened. It wasn't until I got out of rehab that I discovered my brother's son was still alive, although he'd gone through a big trauma. Because I was in rehab and my parents were in France (not that they would've given a shit about Aldrich anyway), he went into an orphanage. And there was only one respectable orphanage for 'mentally challenged' kids in New York- Maywoods.

My Aldrich was fine. He wasn't crazy. I was going to knock some sense into those blithering idiots.

Once I was out and free, the first thing I did was go home and get a good night's sleep so that I didn't look like the spirit of a violent serial killer had possessed me. In the morning, I took care to dress up nicely. I put on an ironed shirt and pair of trousers that made me look like a decent, law abiding citizen. Combing my hair back from my face, I picked up the keys to my car and got the hell out of the mirror's way. Even my parents' genes were the least creative. My brother and I looked like twins. If I had to peer into a reflecting surface and see my dead sibling's face staring accusingly at me one more time, I might either break something or dig my parents out of whatever suave hellhole they had planted their asses in so I could add murder to my list of life's mistakes.

Maywoods Orphanage seemed like a nice place. Cream textured walls and expensive black leather furniture adorned the main room. Bright paintings hung on the wall in delicate metallic frames. There was a posh reception with a beautiful lady sitting behind it, her spectacles pushed above her head, holding her hair back. Tapping the counter in front of her, I politely said, "I'm here to see Dr. Myron."

Her eyes were on her laptop. Barely glancing up at me, she said, "Do you have an appointment, sir?"

"Uh, no. This is sort of urgent so if you could-" I began but she cut me off.

"I'm sorry. I can't help you." She finally took two seconds to look up at me, smile, and then get back to typing away at her laptop. "If you state your name and purpose, I can talk to to Dr. Myron and get back to you on the earliest appointment possible."

"Listen, miss-" I leaned forward over the glass countertop and straightened her name tag. "-Elaine." She raised an amused eyebrow at me but I went on anyway. "Try to understand my situation here. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't imminent."

"If you give me your contact information and purpose of visit, I will set up an appointment at the soonest," she said primly. "There's nothing else I can do."

"I just want to talk to Doctor fucking Myron, for fuck's sake!" I punched the metallic surface of the outer part of the reception table that was facing me. My knuckles smarted but it reminded me to keep my anger in check. I needed that a lot of times. And as I told my therapist, better I hurt than someone else did because of me.

"You're gonna have some pretty shiny bruises," came a voice from behind me. I turned to see two men coming down the stairs, one with a huge smile and the other with just as big a frown. The smiling man was surprisingly tall and that's saying something because I wasn't a midget by any chance either. Even when he stepped down from the last stair and was standing on the same altitude as me, I felt kind of like what the people in Lilliput might have felt when Gulliver came in. But he had a kind face and a warm smile on his exotic features. He definitely wasn't American, although he sounded so. The whole combination was kind of throwing me off.