Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Though he was sitting down, she could tell the new patient was quite tall. He looked to be between thirty and thirty-five and he had extremely black hair—so black it almost seemed to have blue highlights, Torri thought. His eyes were a deep, piercing blue and his features were rugged but handsome. Dark stubble covered his strong jaw and he stared straight ahead with his large, capable looking hands folded quietly in his lap.
Torri had the strangest feeling she had seen him somewhere before. Not in person but on TV. Was he an actor she’d seen in one of the many mindless sitcoms they watched here during free time in the Patient Lounge? He certainly looked like he could be an actor. With that little cleft in his chin and that sensual mouth, not to mention his broad shoulders and muscular body, he looked like someone who might get cast in a superhero movie.
It wasn’t until she was seated and the Group Therapist said,
“And now, I’d like to introduce a new friend. This is Vic,” that Torri realized where she’d seen him before—though not until her ex-roommate spoke up.
“Hey!” Tanya blurted, staring at the new patient. “Ain’t you that guy that tried to kill the President?”
With a shock, Torri realized her ex-roommate was right. It had been on the news, just a few weeks ago—a man—this man—had suddenly appeared in the Oval Office. The Secret Service had no idea how he had gotten in—he had simply materialized, as it were, right in front of the Resolute Desk. He had raised his hands to show that he was unarmed and said clearly, “Mr. President, I come in peace…”
And then he had simply stopped talking, according to the reporter. His eyes had gone blank and he hadn’t even tried to resist when the President’s Secret Service tackled him to the ground.
“Hey, why is he in here?” Tanya demanded of the therapist. “He’s dangerous, ain’t he? If he tried to kill the President, who says he won’t try to kill us? He oughta be locked up over with the violent offenders!”
“Now, Tanya,” the therapist said, frowning. “Vic here never harmed anyone and he didn’t have any kind of weapons on him during his, uh, visit to the President. He has been judged non-violent by several court-appointed therapists and the judge has ordered him to come and stay with us for a while. All right?”
Tanya crossed her arms over her chest and muttered something about “assassins on the loose,” but mostly shut up after that.
Honestly, Torri didn’t know why her ex-roommate felt so threatened. Though the new patient was big and muscular, he didn’t show any signs of becoming aggressive. Indeed, he barely talked at all. All he said was, “I am Vic,” when the therapist asked everyone to introduce themselves. Other than that, he was completely silent and only stared out the window with a far-away look in his deep blue eyes.
Torri tried not to stare at the new patient, but she found her eyes drawn back to him again and again. Who was he, really, and why had he been trying to get to the President? Also, how had he managed to get through the Secret Service with no weapons? What was his purpose?
Vic didn’t seem to notice her looking at him from the corner of her eye and Torri found herself wishing she could sketch him. With those classical features, he would be a wonderful subject for her art—that was if she was ever again allowed to do any art other than coloring in coloring books, she thought sourly.
Group Therapy ended without answering any of her questions. The new patient had never said anything other than his name. He was quiet and introspective the entire hour and only got up when everyone else did.
This gave Torri a chance to see how extremely tall and broad he really was.
Wow—he’s bigger than O’Toole! she thought, staring at the new patient’s immense height. He has to be seven feet tall if he’s an inch! And really well built—like a professional basketball player crossed with a pro wrestler or something.
The boring, beige, one-size-fits all scrubs were tight across his muscular chest and the trousers were a little too short, as though they hadn’t been able to find any quite big enough to fit him.
Vic never said a word, he simply followed everyone else and stood in line in the cafeteria for supper. Torri saw him watching what the other patients did and copying them wordlessly.
When Emile grabbed a green plastic tray and a spork wrapped in a napkin and took it to the food line, Vic did as well. When Emile pushed his tray under the steam table window and got a serving of greasy taco meat, two stale corn tortillas, diced tomatoes, shredded lettuce, cheddar cheese, and a serving of cherry Jell-O, so did Vic. He also picked up a chocolate milk when Emile did and followed the other man out of the food line and went to sit at the same table with him and Gloria.