WHITE WALLS (14 page)

He glares at me. “What?”

“Why don't you open up more?” I ask bravely.

His lips form a straight line and any trace of emotion evaporates from his face. “Why don't you?” There's a haunting echo in the way he asks the question. I look at the way his face twists. He's haunted by something. Demons of his past possibly?

I know all too well about the demons in my past and I prefer not to bring them up unless it’s absolutely necessary. “Because I don't like to talk about some things.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “Neither do I.” At least we agree on something. “And for the record, just because I know women find me attractive that doesn't necessarily make me arrogant. I'm sure the same thing happens with you. I'm sure you can tell when a man finds you attractive.”

We reach the end of the hall and Dr. Watson maneuvers both me and my IV stand carefully before we walk back. Once he makes sure there's no tug on the tube connected to my arm, we start down the hall going back the way we came. Dr. Watson keeps his fingers delicately placed on the small of my back and I wonder how he could be so hard yet so gentle at the same time.

“No I can't,” I mention.

I think Dr. Watson forgot what he said because he's looking at me like he's confused. “Can't what?”

“I can't tell when men find me attractive.” To my knowledge only one man has ever found me attractive. I try to think of the boys I interacted with in school. Some would give me funny looks. Others would act like I wasn't even there. They'd pretend I was invisible.

Dr. Watson raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Oh?” He purses his lips. “So you've never dated then?”

“Dated, meaning?” I need more to go off of. I wonder if he means been in a relationship or dated around casually.

“Meaning you've been out on dates with gentlemen.”

“Oh,” I say softly. “No then. I haven't.”

The only gentleman I'd ever been with didn't take me anywhere. Not that he could. My daddy and his mother would never allow it. I'm sure if we were allowed the possibilities on where we could go and would want to go would be endless. Daddy actually didn't even know his intentions for me until that...

Until that...

No.

I swallow the memory and tuck into the back of my mind.

“I'm sure you have, though,” I say casually. “Possibly with that nurse who was batting her lashes at you?” I'm grasping straws. I know this. But part of me wants to know what kind of women Dr. Watson dates. If he's dated at all that is.

“Yes, I have taken women out on dates.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “And yes, I've gone out with Gretchen a few times.”

“And you've never taken it further?”

“Gretchen isn't really the type of woman you take things further with,” he tells me. “She's the type of girl you take out if you want to have fun.”

“Fun?” I repeat, uncertainty quivering on the tips of my vocal cords.

Dr. Watson's eyes scan the confused look on my face and I know he can tell I'm just not getting it. “For intimate purposes,” he adds.

“Oh,” I gasp then whisper, “she's a harlot.”

He laughs at my naiveté. And the sound of his deep booming laugh fills the narrow halls and fills my heart with joy. It's so full of joy that I feel a smile pulling on my lips. There aren't words to describe how magnificent it is to see this side of the cold, moody, and beautiful doctor. It's like watching a flower blossom for the first time in the spring. Almost miraculous.

Once his laughter dies down he explains, “No, she's not a harlot.” He faces me and runs his thumb across his bottom lip. “I didn't think anyone said harlot anymore. It's very 1920's,” he pauses a beat then goes on, “some women don't adhere to the sex before marriage clause that society forces on them. They prefer sexual gratification and for men who aren't interested in marriage and children that is a blessing.”

His comment baffles me. “You don't want those things?” I guess I assumed most people did. I try to picture what his child might look like and it saddens me to think he never wants one. I happen to think Dr. Watson would have beautiful children.

“No.” He stares at me, deadpan. “You of all people should understand. I know you're not innocent.”

At first, it takes me a minute to register what he means. Mainly because I’m wondering exactly how many women have experienced
his
sexual gratification. But when I finally get that he's talking about my shattered virtue, I scowl and want to slap him. “How dare you?” I balk and then ask, “How do you know if I’m innocent or not?”

“How dare I what?” he shoots back. “Tell you the truth?” Both eyebrows are raised and there's a questioning look on his face. “God forbid.” He shakes his head. “And I think you’re forgetting that I was the first resident to come to your aid when you arrived. I had to give you an examination.”

 
I blush and press my lips together, thinking of him looking at what is underneath my hospital gown. “Just like you and being arrogant there's a difference between me and women like, Gretchen,” I bark out. “I didn't just go sleeping around with whomever. I was with one person. It was only a handful of times and it meant something to me, okay?” In my head I see those blue, blue eyes and see the words I love you as he mouths them from his full, lush lips. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to keep the tears from welling in them.

I open my eyes when we stop in front of my door. Dr. Watson is staring again. He's watching me. Trying to analyze me. I watch him watch me, finding myself wondering what he's thinking. Wonder what's going on behind those glimmering warm eyes of his. I've noticed that sometimes they shift in color. Some days they are more golden and some days they take on a bronze cast. On most occasions they're like a set of gold nuggets glittering in a radiant beam of sunlight.

He startles me his hand caresses my cheek. I jump and tense up, but within seconds I completely relax. His warm palm molds to my face and I close my eyes, my breathing shallow and raspy. He moves his hand to the right and his thumb caresses my bottom lip. I know he's still staring, it’s like I can feel his eyes puncturing the skin on my chest, bleeding right through my heart, and piercing the very depths of my soul. “You're too good for someone like me,” he says softly. “I knew that the first time I saw you.” He smiles softly. A soft buzzing hums in my mind and my heart begins racing. “You opened your eyes, you know. And even though I know you’re far from innocent…” he trails off. “I just knew there was something different about you. I just knew that you weren’t like most women. There is something pure and selfless about you. Those are rare qualities.”

My eyes snap open and before I can say something in response to that he abruptly drops his hand from my face. My stomach bottoms out. The beat of my heart lulls. It felt like we were having a moment and I'm disappointed that he ended it. He looks away from me and ushers me into my room. Then he helps me get settled back into my bed.

After he wheels the IV stand back into place, he checks my pulse quickly then stalks to the door. Our eyes lock and his gaze is smoldering, intense. I can't look away. I won't dare. “Goodnight, Dr. Watson,” I say with a hint of a smile.

He lowers his gaze and puts his hand on the door handle. “This isn't goodnight, Adelaide. It's goodbye.” He opens the door and stops, half of his body out the door. “Take care of yourself.”

Less than a second later, he's gone.

Chapter Nineteen

~Before~

Weeks pass.

And with every passing week, Aurora and I add another accessory to plan. “Money,” I throw in, scanning the list of items Aurora has jotted down on a piece of paper with a deep, blue crayon. The color reminds me of Damien’s eyes and how stormy they’ve been lately. He’s resorted to shouting at me most nights instead of quietly lying beside me because I’m almost off my meds all-together.

I only take them at night every other day now.

Next week I’ll subtract another day.

Damien gets the sense that I’m trying to erase the illusion of him that my mind creates.

And he’s right.

Aurora taps the green crayon that’s been whittled down to a nub against her cheek. “What else?”

The green smudges of scribble blur in my vision so I ask, “Can you read what you have so far?”

“Clothes, shoes, money…”

“What about food and water?”

There’s a green crayon pointed at me. “Excellent observation, Adelaide. We can’t survive without those things.” Aurora adds those items to the list.

My eyes find the men’s’ ward again. The crisp black and gray peaks of charred remains poke my eyes through the wide window. Now there’s a crew of men outside cleaning up a lot of the debris. I’m glad. The decayed building reminds me of death. In fact, Oakhill in general reminds me of all things dead and dying. I’m tired of death. I’m tired of watching people wither away and rot. I’m ready to start over. I’m ready to go out and live.

I face Aurora. “You still haven’t told me how you’re going to create this diversion so we can break out.”

A smug grin crawls across her freckled lips. “And I’m not going to.”

My mouth opens. “But—”

Aurora shakes her head. “Nope. Adelaide, you’re just going to have to trust me. Besides, you know I’m banking on this as much as you are. I’m not going to let anything happen to either one of us.” She glances warily over her shoulder then back at me. She scans my face, her eyes flitting back and forth rapidly. “Did you find it?” I nod. I know she’s referring to the window in the basement we’ll be escaping out of. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “Is it easy to get to?”

I nod again. “A straight shot from the bottom of the stairs.”

“Great.” Aurora folds up our list and shoves it into the pocket of her jeans. She gets to wear normal clothes and I hate her for it sometimes. I’m not good enough for normal clothes. Not good enough behavior-wise. The staff’s nightly visits to my padded cell have become less frequent, but I assume I won’t have the luxury of normal clothes until they cut out all-together. Aurora stands. Holds up two fingers. Mouths, “Two days.” Marjorie enters and her eyes immediately find ours. Aurora mouths, “Two days,” again. Then she walks to the opposite side of the room.

Two days and I’ll be free. I’m excited and depressed at the same time. Excited because I’ll finally be free of all the restrictions and the insanity of Oakhill. Depressed because, well, I know that I’ll have to tuck Damien into a darkened corner of my brain—for good.

And the thought of that breaks my heart and terrifies me at the same time.

Chapter Twenty

~After~

I stand in front of the hospital, eyes deadlocked on the glass double doors of the entrance. I'm not sure of what I'm supposed to do now. One of the nurses dug through the lost and found bins and found me a t shirt, jeans, socks, and some tennis shoes. They feel loose and foreign. After being in a hospital gown for the last six months, I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to wearing normal clothes again.

The shoes are white and clean and a bit on the big side, but I'm thankful for them anyway.

Another one of the nurses, an elderly one named Betsy gave me five dollars. I'm not really sure how far that will get me, but at least it’s something.

What plagues me more than anything is that some of the staff at the hospital had been so kind to me. I'm not used to it. I was raised with bad tempers, violence, and bottles upon bottles of abused substances. Kindness is relatively new to me and I don't know how or if I'll ever be able to repay it.

I pace back and forth in front of the hospital doors, feeling perplexed and lost. An anxious feeling stunts my breathing and I put my hands on my hips with a frustrated sigh. Is this what being free feels like? Deciding on where to go or what to with my time? I've never been free. I was taken from the controlling household I was raised in and thrust into a completely different controlling environment. At home my father used violence and fear to control me. At Oakhill they used drugs and terrifying treatment methods.

I'm angry with myself because for the first time, my life won't be dictated by someone else. I have the ability to go where I want, do what I want, and be who I want to be. I don't have to have dinner on at a certain time. I can get up whenever I want. I can walk for miles and miles and miles, never having to stop.