Insanity (8 page)

“No,” I say coolly. “I’m
not
just staring at the dead grass.”

“Then
who or what
were you staring at?”

I’m just about to say, “None of your damn business,” when the lights in the room start flickering.

Silence sweeps over the room and Brunette turns off the television. A loud buzzing rings in the air and I swear it makes the walls in the rec room vibrate.

I hear Aurora in the corner whine, “No! Not again!” Then she hugs her knees and proceeds to rock back and forth. Part of me wonders if she’s faking this time or that she is really that terrified of knowing they have another patient in the basement.

Tortured howls bleed through the thick plaster walls and Blondie scampers over to the sofa, holding on to Brunette for dear life. Me, I just keep my eyes glued to the flickering overhead light as it flashes. Fear lurks around inside of me, waiting to take hold and it doesn’t until the tortured howls turn into muffled screams. My entire body stiffens. The howling and screaming reminds me of an opera and the way the soprano singer begins with a low tone and then her voice builds and builds and builds before it is piercing, high enough to shatter glass. I plug my ears and close my eyes to drown everything out, but just when I bring my fingers to my ears…

Then there is no sound at all.

The lights return to normal.

The walls have stopped vibrating.

Bright light burns in my eyes and I focus on the tan walls for a second, waiting for the tiny white spots in my vision to fade. The screams that disappeared a minute ago still throb in my ears. This place doesn’t seem like the type of place where people are sent to get better anymore. I mean it never really did seem that way, but part of me had hope that no matter what negative rumors I’d heard, I’d make up my own mind on Oak Hill, and form my own opinion of it later.

My opinion of the institution now…

This place does not help people.

It is a fabrication that entices people from the outside with its rose bushes, lush landscaping, massive red-brick building, and fake friendly staff.

This place is not a medical institution.

This place is a slaughterhouse.

And just like pigs, people are brought here to die.

My eyes bounce between the girls in the room and theirs do the same. The quiet wraps around me like a blanket and comforts me or at least I’m trying to reason with myself that it should feel that way.
Yes, Addy,
I tell myself.
The quiet equals no torture, no pain. The quiet equals peace.

As eight eyes continue to dart around the room and land on one of four different faces, I come to the conclusion that no one knows what to do or what to say. Mainly I think it’s because nobody wants to ask that major question—the question I know that we’re all thinking. The one looming in the back of all of our minds…

Just
who
did they take down to the basement today?

Chapter 9

~AFTER~

After supper, which consisted of rubbery meatloaf, a wax-like colorful vegetable medley, and a piece of stale bread, I retreat back to the rec room and stand at the window. The sun is setting now and the sky is splashed with darkened oranges, yellows, and browns. There is no one outside anymore and I keep my eyes glued to the ground, watching as the wind tosses up dead leaves and spins them around in tiny cyclones before depositing them back on the ground.

For some reason, focusing on the skyline reminds me of summer.

And Damien.

We both used to sneak away from our houses at sundown. Daddy would be passed out by then and his parents were wealthy and donated a bunch of money to different charities so they always had some elaborate party to go to. In the summers they had one every night. Even on the weekdays.

His deep husky laugh sounds off in my mind and I revel in it. I close my eyes and he’s chasing me through the field.
You know I’m going to catch you, Addy!
His voice carries on the wind and as the wind tousles my hair Damien’s voice caresses my earlobe.

I laugh and pump my legs harder, zig-zagging through the long, swaying grass, willing myself to go faster.
Ha! You’ll never catch me, Damien Allen!
I shout back.

His footsteps thunder in my ears and I can feel him coming up on me. Before I know it his hands are wrapped around my waist and we’re crashing to the ground, laughing so hard we can’t breathe.

A lonely tear escapes from my eye and I wipe it away quickly when I open them. I miss him so much that since yesterday my heart has felt like a towering inferno and there isn’t any water or a fire extinguisher around to put it out.

The tips of my fingers graze against the glass window. It feels cold. Distant. Startling. I’m perplexed because Damien knows I know he’s here. Why hasn’t he come looking for me again? I relax when I think of the consequences. What would they do to him if they saw us together? An orderly and a patient who the staff
thinks
is insane? He’d probably be fired and God only knows what would happen to me.

I’d probably be given electroshock therapy or worse.

No… Having Damien here is too precious. Too magnificent. Too amazing.

And I’m not willing to risk giving it up.

Taking one last look at the sky, I turn to go to my room when I feel a pair of hands sliding up my back. At first, I tense up because I’m terrified of who might be touching me. Then I see his blue blue eyes in the window. Damien. “You caught me,” I whisper musically.

He flashes me a radiant smile that I can see through the window and then he wraps his arms around my waist. This feels like heaven. So beautiful. So blissful. So perfect. I never want this moment to end even though I know deep down inside that it’s going to at any second. His lips, his full luscious pouty lips are against my ear sending shock waves of desire through my nerves. I guide his hand down my stomach, feel the warmth of his fingertips through the thin fabric and just before his hand reaches my thigh he yanks it away. “No,” he whispers. “Not here. Not now.”

“Then where?” I lean into him and his body heat sets me on fire. I’m burning, burning, burning. I want to burn eternally.

He flicks my earlobe with his tongue when he whispers again. “The utility closet. At the end of the corridor in twenty minutes.”

I’m biting my lip and I moan, still wrapped up in the moment. God, this man, my love, my everything has always known how to make me break into pieces, in a good way. I open my eyes and turn to face him, but he’s already gone. In his place is Marjorie a scowl deeply rooted on her lips. “Adelaide, what do you think you’re doing?” The husky and forceful tone of her voice sends every ounce of desire I was feeling out of my body, seeping into a pool on the floor.

“Uh,” I struggle to find an answer. “Um.”

Marjorie harrumphs and slams her balled up hands into her hips.

“I was just watching the sun go down,” I lie and sigh with relief, knowing that what just came out of my mouth actually sounded like a believable one.

“You aren’t permitted to be out here, now.” Her voice is darker and gruff. She snatches me by the elbow and digs her fingers into my flesh.

“Ow,” I swat at her as she drags me down the corridor. “You’re hurting me!”

“I swear, you wretched girl, you never listen,” she growls ignoring my tortured plea. We’re halfway to my room when Marjorie stops abruptly. I fly forward, losing my balance, but Marjorie’s tight grip on my elbow keeps me upright. I sneer at her and open my mouth to say something when I notice who she’s looking at, Dr. Watson. Marjorie’s cheeks are flushed and she’s giggling. Marjorie? Giggling? Either she’s head over heels for this new doctor or she’s been hanging out with one of Daddy’s old friends. “Elijah,” she fumbles, “I mean Dr. Watson, I mean good evening, Dr. Watson,” she gushes.

“Good evening, Marjorie.” His tone is pleasing and light, but he’s not even looking in Marjorie’s direction. His eyes are deadlocked on me. “Adelaide,” he says curtly with a nod.

“Addy,” I correct him. I thought he and I already discussed this.

“Right,” he says grinning. “My apologies, Addy.” His eyes cut to Marjorie. “What’s going on here?” Then his gaze centers on the way Marjorie is gripping my arm. “I thought I heard the patient yelling out in pain. I thought I heard her say you were hurting her.”

At his comment Marjorie loosens her grip on my arm then she cocks her head toward me, a wicked leer on her lips. “This one is a troublemaker. Never follows the rules.”

“I can hear you,” I mutter.

Marjorie ignores me and goes on.

But as soon as she starts talking, I tune her out. There’s a clock in my head and I can feel the minutes pulsate in my temples as they tick by.
Meet me in the utility closet in twenty minutes.
If Marjorie doesn’t hurry I’m going to miss my chance to see Damien. And I want him—need him. I need to feel his touch, listen to his voice, see his beautiful face. I need it and if I don’t have my chance, not seeing him will kill me.

My thoughts are interrupted when Marjorie drops her hand from my elbow and Dr. Watson says, “I can take her from here Marjorie.”

Oh no.
Marjorie turns and starts down the hall. I want to scream at her.
No, Marjorie! I’ll take your painful grasp and bite my tongue! Please, Marjorie! Don’t leave me with this man! This beautiful, wicked man! This doctor who is capable of cruelty!
My spine stiffens, panic infiltrates my nervous system, and a wave of nausea unfurls in the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard, determined to show no fear in front of him.

Dr. Watson, extends his arm to me. “Shall we?”

I can’t bring myself to react.

He stands in his spot for a minute before an impatient gleam appears in his eyes. “I thought I told you earlier, I don’t bite.” Even though his voice is soft and laced with the tiniest bit of kindness, the information I learned from, Cynthia, earlier still haunts me. This man is deadly, responsible for killing one of the other patients, performing a procedure that is dangerous and has never been proven to even work on any of the patients here.

“Fine,” he says coolly, “If you’re going to be stubborn then we can walk side by side.”

“Okay,” I croak and then pick up my feet, walking.

We walk for five minutes and somewhere in that length of passing time I find my voice. “Why couldn’t you let Marjorie finish walking me to my room?” I’m surprised by the stern tone in my voice.

Dr. Watson looks surprised too. Then that surprised look turns into a look of pain when his eyes touch my arm. I follow his gaze and take in the red welts from Marjorie’s manlike fingertips. Dr. Watson reaches out to touch the fresh bruises, but I yank my elbow away, holding it with my other hand. “She was hurting you.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

I gaze into his eyes and swear that I see a flash of concern there. This doctor puzzles me. He lets me get away with a lot. Granted, I don’t really know what a lot is on his scale, but I’ve snapped at him several times, disregarded his authority, and still he hasn’t done anything to me. Some of the other doctors would take action with one slip up and I’ve seen it happen. Maybe Cynthia received mixed information. Maybe she is wrong about him.

We stand across from each other for a few more minutes, an unsettling silence built up between us, but neither one of us moves. It’s like I can’t function because his gaze is totally and completely captivating me. I almost forget about meeting Damien.
Oh no!
Damien! My love. What am I doing? What am I thinking?

For the briefest sliver of a second I thought about what it might feel like to kiss Dr. Watson, as crazy as it sounds, and I’m hating myself for having those thoughts. “Thank you for walking me back to my room, Dr. Watson. It was kind of you,” I tell him.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow then Adelaide.” He turns to leave.

“Tomorrow?”

Dr. Watson stops and faces me again. “Yes, I’ll be treating you from now on so you’ll be meeting with me four times a week.”

“But I only met with Dr. Morrow once or twice a week.”

“Well.” He smiles and this is the first time I’ve noticed the dimples in his cheeks. “Dr. Morrow and I have very different methods on how we treat our patients.”

“Oh.” I don’t know why, but his words bring the uneasy feeling in my gut back in circulation. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He nods then walks down the corridor.

I close my door, resting my ear against the oak, waiting patiently for Dr. Watson’s footsteps to fade. Once they do, I crack the door and peek down the empty corridor, my eyes on the utility closet door at the end of the hall.

“Where are you going?”

I jump, spin around with my back to the door, and clutch my chest. “Jesus, Aurora.” I struggle to catch my breath. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Aurora sits up and folds her arms across her chest. “Nope. Not yet. So tell me.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I lie and from the look on her face it doesn’t look like she believes it.

Aurora exhales, rolls her eyes, and lies back down on her cot. “Don’t get caught.”

I stare at her briefly, shrug, then face the door, opening it quietly before slipping out into the abandoned hall. With my back against the tan plaster wall, I slink down, scaling the wall a few steps until I reach the utility closet. The light is on inside it and I can see the glow from underneath the door. Damien, he waited. Anticipation plummets through my body and settles in the pit of my stomach. My heart is hammering against my ribcage. Want sits low in my belly and I have to hold back the hungry moan that is about to escape my lips any second.

“Damien,” I murmur, opening the door.

The utility closet is slightly larger than most household closets. It’s wider and it has more depth. There are wooden shelves lining each side and the shelves are filled with miscellaneous supplies. Soap, toilet paper, light bulbs, and lots of other cleaning supplies. There’s a mop and bucket tucked under the bottom right shelf, a row of plungers under the left shelf. Aside from me and the cleaning supplies the closet is empty. My heart hangs heavy. Tears pool in my eyes. Damien isn’t coming. Or maybe he did and when I didn’t show up, he left.