The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 3 Read Online Free

state where they would spend hours staring at the idiot box no matter what shows the orderlies decided to put on the screen. Like children, they were not allowed to watch anything involving violence or sex, so they spent most of their time watching old black and white movies, or cartoons made to entertain very young children. It drove Jake insane, however ironic that may sound, to see them staring at nothing day after day.
    He preferred to spend his free time watching the sky, seeing that the outside world still continued to thrive in light and shado w— even when he was trapped behind the walls of this hell. He fantasized about how his life could have been different. If his family would have accepted hi m— instead of throwing him in this place when he did n’ t conform to their standards of normalcy. He knew that they watched him, that they talked about his behavior after he went to bed each night. He could hear the m— when they thought that he was sleepin g— talking about what they needed to do to change him, to make him an acceptable member of society.
    He thought about his brother, who in childhood had been his best friend, only to turn on him so completely in adulthood. He had thought that he had rid himself of the bastard when he had shot him that night in the bunker, but the fucker had pulled through, and now was happier than ever, living the life that was supposed to be his.
    One of the servers, the young girl with the unfortunate condition of having the worst acne that he had ever seen, slid a plate in front of him.
    “ Thank you , ” he said, blessing her with one of his best smiles before lifting his fork in preparation of scooping whatever gruel the kitchen had decided to bestow upon him today. Looking down at his plate, he felt the bile rising in his throat again as he took in the congealed lump of gravy atop the cardboard looking attempt at meatloaf. A mountain of instant mashed potatoes, now cold, a cube of butter standing at its peak, no chance of it melting amid the tepid plate. He poked at the meal disgustedly, sighing resignedly before picking up a forkful and placing it in his mouth.
    Salt, all he could taste was salt. He picked up his plastic cup of juice, gulping it to wash the rancid taste of the meal out of his mouth.
    “ Delicious, huh , ” said Gina, who had slid into the chair next to his, abandoning her previous dinner companion who looked relieved to be sitting by herself, poking listlessly at her own meal.
    “ Um , ” said Jacob, hesitant to use that particular word to describe the plate before him. He would n’ t even call it food, not really, but he did n’ t want to seem difficult, not when the doctor was sitting at the table with them.
    “ I t’ s alright , ” he said, scooping another bite into his mouth, desperately trying to ignore the protests of his stomach as he swallowed the cold lump of meat and gravy.
    Gina poked at her own meal, lifting the meatloaf with her fork and letting it flop back on her plate, splashing gravy on the table top between them .“ I ca n’ t eat this . ”
    “ You should eat , ” said Jacob, gesturing with his eyes toward Dr. Jacobson, who was nonchalantly taking notes on his pad, as if he were not listening in to their conversation and writing down Gin a’ s reaction to the food that she was served. He knew that it would come up in group tomorro w— how the staff goes to great lengths to prepare nutritious food for them and how they should be grateful that they are so well cared for.
    Grateful , he thought as he watched Gina nudge the bowl that had just been set next to her plate containing her dessert, orange gelatin with bits of unidentifiable fruit hovering amidst the cloudy form. He could see that she was regretting her decision, that she should have just eaten the food that her mother was cooking for their family. That maybe she was trying to poison her, but the food in here was actually going to kill her, and these people knew the