Hidden Page 17

Mack Excerpt

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All RIGHTS RESERVED. Copyright 2016. Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Darkness was the one thing in this world I didn’t care for—probably because I felt most comfortable with facts. Seeing objects equated seeing facts. There is the floor. There is the couch. Facts.

Guessing where things were—I think the leg of this table is around here somewhere—ouch!—was inefficient, useless. It was why nightlights were invented.

So when I entered John Doe’s dark room, the first thing I wanted was to bring in some light.

“Mr. Doe?” I said to the dark figure seated in the corner of the small room, staring at me like an eerie scarecrow waiting to frighten the shit out of anything that crossed its path. “My name is Dr. Valentine. I’m the new director. May I turn on the lights so we can discuss the reason you are here?”

“I asked not to be disturbed.” The man’s deep, masculine voice felt like a cold, chilling slap. Yet strangely, it was also…Well, I didn’t know really. Hypnotic, perhaps.

I squinted, my eyes straining to see his face but only able to make out his silhouette—broad shoulders, short hair, and fit-looking arms from the shadows of biceps I was able to spot.

“That’s exactly why we need to talk,” I said. “It’s come to my attention that you are not here to seek therapy—”

“Leave.”

My mouth flapped for a moment. “I’m sorry, but did you—”

“I said leave,” he growled.

Sadly for him, intimidation didn’t work on me. Not that I was stupid and wouldn’t get out of harm’s way. The question was, did he intend to harm me?

“And if I don’t?” I asked, testing the waters. His response would tell me everything I needed to know. Reading people’s internal emotional state was another gift of mine.

I waited for a reply.

And then I waited some more.

He’s not going to answer me. Fine. This was silly and a completely unproductive use of my time. I would just have to see him with my own two eyes. My gift would do the rest.

“Okay. These lights are going—” I flipped the switch, and the moment my eyes met his, I was hit by a hard wave of…

“Holy fuck,” I gasped.

I flipped off the lights, turned, and left the room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What was that?

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