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Bonus Scene: Certified, an alternate PoV Bonus Scene for Dirty Devil

First and foremost, hats off to all of you for hitting 200 reviews and then 500 in such rapid fashion on Dirty Devil. I’m overwhelmed, delighted, touched, and just so happy that the Vandals and Emersyn have connected with the readers this way. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love these characters and how invested in their journey that I am.

This is the first of the two bonus scenes you’ve earned. Please note, this scene will contain spoilers if you have not read Dirty Devil. Buckle up folks, cause this is the PoV you asked for.


The white ceiling bored the fuck out of me. Even if it wasn’t totally white. Cracks in the drywall created imperfections in the paint. A place where it bubbled in one corner. Another where it created a kind of plateau like someone used way too much spackle to fix a crack. Either way, every imperfection showed a tint of gray to it. Like the depth of the paint occluded the light.

It was a lot like me. Gray in places. I shifted my gaze across the landscape created by lazy workmen who were either in too much of a hurry or just didn’t give enough of a fuck to do a decent job. Then again, who cared? Pinetree might charge the “patients” in this wing the same as those in the more luxurious accommodations, but it wasn’t like we were gonna be leaving them a review on Squawk or Squeal or whatever the hell was the trending app these days.

I could see it now, Pinetree Psychiatric Facility, a private facility offering customized solutions for your mental health issues. Fuckers would add a lot of different services like, twenty-four hour monitored counseling, “certified” professionals, “group” counseling, “private” accommodations, and some spiel about Doctor Schuitevoerder and his elite credentials.

Mengele was a fucking doctor too.

Reviews wouldn’t be from the patients unless they read zero of five stars, the care here sucks. They don’t give a fuck if you recover, they just want your family money. Need to get rid of that troublesome relative? Pinetree is the place for you.

A scrape in the hallway cut through my mental composition of a review. I glanced at the door. It was reinforced. All you needed was the right set of keys to get in and out of it.

They’d changed the locks since my last visit. I could be patient. I mean, I was a patient.

Laughter shuddered through me and I grinned. I was a patient. Thumping came from down the hall. Probably old Darryl running into the walls again. Darryl had been trying to take himself out for weeks. The man really sucked at it.

I could give him a hand. Offered even. He said he’d think about it.


Another scrape in the hallway.

It was awfully late for a visit. Or early, I rarely slept so who the fuck knew what time it was.


Excitement scraped along the nerves under my skin. Every once in a while, one of the orderlies got cocky and came down here to “beat” on the inmates.

Oh please pick me.



The door locks tumbled against each other and then the door swung open.


I didn’t move from my spot, but the last thing I expected was the kid from group and the bitch from the day room to fill the open doorway.

“Here. In you go.” She tried to shove the kid inside, but he just glanced off the wall and staggered away. Huh. The nurse pocketed more drugs than she distributed and she sure as fuck didn’t care how the patients were doing.

Pretty sure she liked banging crazy too. Too bad her family couldn’t afford Pinetree.

“Dammit,” she snarled, yanking the kid’s arm and something hit the floor. It skittered all the way into my room. A cell phone. Look, today was my lucky day. “What the hell was that?”

Without a sound, I was off the bed and at the doorway. The dumb bitch had her back to me. Was she trying to shove the kid in here? For what? Delivering meat to a lion?

Yeah, I didn’t kill on command.

Besides, the kid wasn’t so bad. He actually liked my stories.

This bitch though?

Oh, I didn’t like her.

At all.

She fought to drag the kid forward, not paying a lick of attention to me.

Hateful and stupid. What a delightful combination.

The kid yanked away from her and she stumbled right back at me. I caught her head in my hands. For a moment, her whole body stilled. The world stilled. Flash-frozen, a split-second in time. Her hair was rough against my palms.

She really needed to get a better conditioner. I applied the right pressure with my fingers and gave a sharp twist. The crack of her neck spread through me like a mini-orgasm. Profound relief as her shrill presence blunted. Letting her go, I rode the wave of pleasure in the absolute perfection of that moment.

Crumpling like the broken and discarded toy she’d become, the nurse hit the floor at my feet. Exhaling, I glanced down at her. Yes. That was much better.

So much better.

“I’m keeping the phone.” It was still in my room and I glanced at the kid. He just nodded, then gave me a thumbs up.

“What are you going to do with her?” He didn’t care. Not about her. It was a kind of curious question. A solid one really.

I glanced down at her again. Couldn’t keep her in here. She would definitely stink the place up. Besides, I didn’t like her. This space might be a shitty space, but it was my space.

After pocketing the phone, I dragged her up and over my shoulder. Dead weight or not, she was hardly a burden. The keys that jangled in her pocket gave me another shiver of pleasure.

This was definitely a good day. “They have drain cleaner here,” I told him. It had been a while since I dissolved a body. Entertainment for hours.

After closing up my room, I headed down the hall toward the maintenance closets. They kept all the cleaning supplies down here. Very helpful.


Pivoting, I faced the kid but kept moving as I walked backwards. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Yeah?”


“Not my best work.” I grinned, touching two fingers to my brow. The kid didn’t linger. Probably good. Dissolving bodies was a gruesome business.

At least this chick was bony, less body fat to worry about. Humming, I made my way down the darkened hallway. Phone. Keys. Dead body.

Definitely my lucky day.

© 2022 Heather Long 

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