Insanity (21 page)

He shrugs casually and I gape at the way his broad shoulders rise. “I don’t want to,” he says, “but if you won’t cooperate with my methods of treatment, I don’t see any other options for you, my dear.”

“I can’t believe this!” I throw my hands up in the air, frustrated and upset. “I thought you were on my side!”

“I am on your side.” He hops off the desk and crouches down in front of me, lacing his fingers through mine. Part of me wants to yank my hands out of his grasp, slap him across the face, and tell him to get to it then. Tell him to bring on the restraints and the cotton and get the fucking torture over with. But there’s a much, much bigger part of me that likes the way his touch feels. I like the way his thumbs feel as they brush against my skin. “You know I’m against those medieval methods of treatment. I don’t feel that they work as effectively as mine, which is why I really, really need you to cooperate.” He lifts one hand away from mine, gazes deeply into my eyes, and brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. “Please, Addy.”

I’ve never understood why he’s had this effect on me. Why I think about him in an intimate way. Why I like hearing the sound of his deep voice. Feeling his flesh against mine. And have wild, erotic fantasies about him.

He reminds me of Damien in that way.

“Fine,” I say in defeat. “But I’m not sure if you’ll get anything from it.”

He smiles, straightening up, and places a finger right next to the needle on the metronome. “I beg to differ, Addy. I think I’ll get a lot from it. You just have to think back, open up your mind, and let me in.”

It’s terrifying in my mind and I’d told myself a long time ago, I don’t know why I or anyone else for that matter would want to go in there. Go back there. There’s nothing but pain in my past, a pain I don’t want to relive.

My mouth forms an
o
. I want to say something, but I forget what that something is. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the moment I open my mouth, Dr. Watson’s forefinger pushes against the metal needle on the metronome and the needle starts swaying. Starts ticking.

Tick…Tick…Tick…

My eyes are instantly drawn to the metal. It’s brass and dull and the way it moves, ever so slowly, puts me in a trance-like state. I am calm. Relaxed. I could sleep. My eyelids start fluttering. Every few seconds I shake my head and open my eyes to try and fight off the effect the instrument has on me.

“Relax, Adelaide.” Dr. Watson’s voice is mellow—soothing—like a lullaby. “Open your mind to me.”

Open your mind to me.
I hear this inside my head over and over again. But then soon the ticking becomes louder. The movement of the needle is too calming. I think Dr. Watson is saying something else, but I can’t be sure because of the
tick…tick…ticking
. Soon all of the contents of the office blur together. My eyelids are heavy. I think I hear, “Stop fighting it.” A pause. “Just let go.”

It’s like standing in a cavern with a cliff. You’re on the edge of that cliff. You’re looking down. You see the blue-green waters in a pool at the bottom of that twenty foot drop, slapping against wet rock. In your head, you know that if you jump the water will catch you, swallow you, and once you break the surface, you’ll be able to breath. But there’s something…some tiny, nagging voice in the back of your mind that’s holding you back. Telling you not to do it. To not live for the moment. To live in fear. Be a coward.

Don’t jump. Stay where you are. Never move forward.

I think of this during the moment when my eyelids finally close and I roll my head back, allowing the lull of the metronome to pull me into a realm of ambiance and sleep. I think of this scenario because it reminds me of life. So many people live in fear. They refuse to move their life in a different direction because they let that fear consume them. Eat away at them. Pick their bones clean. So many people live their lives asking themselves what if?

What if?

What if?

So what if I was on the edge of a cliff? What if I did push that nagging voice to the side, kicked caution to the wind, and hurled myself over that cliff, freefalling, only to be caught in an exhilarating pool of refreshing water? Would I feel better just letting go?

Yes.

I know this because the only reason I’ve been holding back is because I’m terrified of the pain my memories will bring. But life is pain. Life is chaos. It’s never easy. Always a struggle.

Now I know that the only way I’m going to get over the pain in my past is to confront it, head on. And that’s the last thought I have before I let the darkness of my mind completely consume me.

Chapter 28

~BEFORE~

My new life begins tomorrow.

I’m elated. I feel a thrill. I feel a deep, resounding rush of adrenaline. I lie in my bed fidgeting, but not out of nervousness, out of excitement, because I never thought this day would come.

Daddy’s snores pound into my ears. Tomorrow there will be no more of that. I let out a soft laugh just thinking about it.

No more sneaking. No more abuse. My life will only consist of complete and utter love and happiness.

Damien lies next to me, his soft breaths filling my ears, his arm draped protectively over my bare stomach. He’s sleeping. I like watching him sleep. He’s even more beautiful when his face is completely relaxed, his hair is wild from his twisted haze of dreaming, and his muscles free of tension. Most of the time Damien worries me. He likes to be in charge. He likes to make plans. Follow schedules. And sometimes I think that’s too much for one person to handle. I ask him all the time if he’d like my help, but he always answers with, “Let me take care of it, love.”

I’ve decided that for our future, I’ll pick and choose my battles with him carefully. Damien stirs and his eyelids flutter. I slide down further in my bed, coming face to face with him. His eyes open in slits, then he groans and twists a piece of hair between his fingertips. “What time is it?”

“Two thirty.”

“Two thirty? Shit!” He bolts upright and throws the comforter off himself and me.

“Hey!” I whine and snatch the comforter, pulling it up to my chin. I’m naked and it’s cold in my room.

Damien’s eyes bulge and he gives me an urgent look. “What are you doing?” He reaches over me and grabs his clothes and starts putting them on. “We need to hurry.”

I snuggle into my blanket. “Why? You said we don’t have to leave until five.” Our bus leaves at six thirty.

Damien and I settled on the city of Seattle to begin our new life. He knows a guy there he went to boarding school with, whose father is the owner of some huge corporation. His friend said they’d give him a job and that’s great. I’m happy for him. But me, I’m not really sure what I’m going to do.

“What about me?” I’d asked him when we decided on Seattle.

“What about you? You beautiful, silly girl?” he’d chuckled and breathed into my hair.

“What am I going to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You can do whatever you want.”

Whatever I want?
I’d never been able to do what I want. I’d always been a prisoner and the idea of freedom seemed strange, as true as it is.

Damien cuts into my flashback with his panicked words, “Come on, Addy, get up. We have to get your things packed.”

“Damien, relax. I did that while you were sleeping.” I motion to the few garment bags and a suitcase under my window. I pat the empty spot on the mattress next to me. “Come back to bed, please. I’m cold. Come keep me warm.”

He gives me a sexy smirk and slides into bed next to me. He nips my earlobe with his teeth and breathes, “I love you. Are you ready for our forever?”

I smile into the darkness and exhale as his warm fingers slide over my stomach overheating my entire body. “Yes. I can’t wait.” It feels like that’s all I’ve thought about for the last few months. Me and him. So in love with each other. In a new place. Beginning our lives. Damien nuzzles his chin into the curve of my neck and places a kiss just below my ear. “I love you too. So much,” I whisper.

I feel his chest rise up and down against my back and I think to myself that I’ve never felt more at home than in his arms. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. But in his arms, I can’t feel that way anymore. I’ve found somewhere I belong. I’ve found someone who I love purely and unconditionally. Someone who loves me the same way in return.

But I fight off the pull of slumber because even though this picturesque moment, this scene with Damien and I, our limbs entangled, bodies touching in a loving embrace seems so perfect, so beautiful, and so right, a bout of nausea whips through my gut telling that something about all of this feels off.

Something is wrong.

I shake Damien. “Damien, get up.”

He lifts head, gazing up into my eyes. “What is it?”

I strain to hear the sound of Daddy’s snoring.

There’s nothing.

Dead silence.

Panic seeps into my bloodstream and I stumble out of bed. “Get up!” I shout, half-scream, half-whisper.

“Addy—?”

“Just get up!”

My heart is racing as I dash over to my dresser and pull any dress I can find, I settle on a green one and throw it over my head, not even bothering to put on my underwear or a bra. I rush past the bed and Damien laces his fingers through mine and pulls me back down on the mattress. “Calm down.” He snakes his fingers through my hair and brushes his lips against mine. “Everything is fine.”

But it’s not fine. I know it. I can feel it.

“We have to go.” I give the most urgent, pleading look I can give. “We have to go now.”

Footsteps thunder down the hall. My eyes avert to my door. “Oh no!” I gasp I forgot to lock it. Terror in my eyes, I glance back at Damien. “Get up! Get out the window!”

But it’s too late.

Daddy barrels through my door spots Damien in my bed, and his eyes go wide, twisted in a deep rage that I’ve never seen before. With three long strides, he’s at the edge of my bed, gripping me by the throat, and rasping, “You little whore.”

I’m gasping for air. White dots flash in my eyes. I feel lightheaded. Then in one swift motion, Daddy throws me across my small room and my back hits my yellow plaster wall with a thud.

“Get out of her bed, you little fucker!” I hear Daddy shrieking. There’s a scuffle going on behind me. Lots of feet moving. Shouting. Things rustling. “You’ve ruined her!” Daddy’s head snaps toward me. “You’re nothing but a dirty whore. Just like you mother.”

“Don’t call her that!”
Damien
. “Don’t you ever call her that! You worthless drunk!” I can feel Damien’s eyes on me as I struggle to pick myself up off the floor. “Addy, don’t you listen to him!”

“Stay out of her head, you little fucker!”
Daddy
. There’s more noise. Maybe they’re wrestling.

I try to scream. “No, Daddy! No!” But the words come out low, barely above a whisper. With wobbling knees, I steady myself against the wall. I swallow, but my throat aches and it feels like there’s a permanent lump in the center of my esophagus. I just can’t get it down.

Hope flushes through my body. If we can make it to the window. Just a few steps and we can get out. The sound of footsteps plodding across the wooden floor pounds in my ears. Daddy’s gone. Damien is at my side. “Hurry Addy!”

“Damien,” I rasp, trying to speak.

“Not now,” he says urgently. “Just come on.” He guides me to the window and yanks it open with force. There’s a loud clattering sound echoing from down the hall.

Damien starts throwing our bags out the window. One by one, I hear them crunch as they hit the snow covered ground. The blistering cold wind, wafts in through the open window. I shiver and chills blast through me as the icy winter weather hits me in the chest. Damien extends a hand to me. “Here, I’ll help you out.” He puts his hand on my waist, preparing to lower me to the ground.

“What about you?” I breathe. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“No.” I remove his hands from my waist and shove him toward the window. “You go.” He fights me off, but I urge him forward. “I promise, I’ll be right behind you.”

But there’s not time for any of that.

Daddy’s back.

He’s got a shotgun. “I’ll bury you. Just like I buried you’re whore of a mother.”

Shock burns through me. I can’t comprehend what he’s telling me. “What?” Tears sting my eyes. “What?” Is he saying he killed Mommy?

He cocks the gun.

Aims it.

BANG!

Daddy, fires a bullet right at my chest. I can’t react, I just stand there waiting for death to welcome me. At least with death, there’s no pain.

The next sequence of events happen in slow motion. I close my eyes. Feel hands on my shoulders. Feel my body being shoved aside. I topple to the floor and hear a strained grunt. My head snaps to the side just in time to see Damien take a bullet to the chest.

“No!” I shriek. “No!”

There’s a glazed over look in Damien’s blue blue eyes. His face is whiter than the sheets on my bed. He’s trying to speak, but the buckshot from the gun expels all over his front, penetrating through his skin, lacerating his organs, and blood spurts from his mouth. He hits his knees, more blood spreading across his chest like a carton of milk knocked off the kitchen counter. He touches his chest cavity, a ghost-like smile on his lips.

All of the wind is knocked out of my lungs.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

I want to die.

I move forward, my arms outstretched, pain and terror in my violet eyes, a dull throbbing ache in my heart. “No! Damien!”

He turns his head slowly.

Nods at me. Flashes his smile that I love so much. Mouths, “I love you.”

Then he slumps over…

Dropping like an iron anchor to the ocean floor.

He’s dead.

Chapter 29

~BEFORE~

There aren’t…

There aren’t…

There aren’t words to describe the amount of pain I’m in. I lunge for Damien, slipping and sliding in his blood, and sweep him up in my arms. I hold him. Rock him. Sob for him. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Please.” This isn’t real. I know it’s not.