Insanity (19 page)

I’m speechless and I regret snapping at her. I can see the pain in her eyes mixed in with anger. I shouldn’t have gone there. I shouldn’t have pushed her to bring up this painful part of her past. “Aurora, I—,”

“Just shut up,” she growls. “The day you make it to the basement is the day you can comment on the way I act here.” She backs away from me shaking her head. “It’s your fucking fault I got sent there in the first place.”

“What?” I scoff. “I wasn’t even here then!”

“You weren’t?” She slants her eyes. “How do you know? You don’t remember anything before you arrived here a few months ago.”

“No,” I say in a low voice, shaking my head in disbelief. “No. That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” she retorts. “It’s like what Dr. Morrow said to me right before he shoved the cotton in my mouth and fried the shit out of me;
The mind can be a very powerful weapon.
”

She’s screwing with my head. She has to be. We’re all fucked up here and fucked people have a way of making people believe things they wouldn’t normally believe. “You’re a liar.” I creep closer to her. “If I’m the reason you got sent to the basement, why didn’t I get sent there too?” Even if I did, I know I won’t be able to remember it. “And why didn’t you tell me what happened to me?”

“I did mention what happened to you.”

“You did not?”

“I. Did.” A smug look appears on her childlike face. “But let me guess…” Her eyes widen and she places a finger on her cheek, mocking me. “You don’t remember.”

I open my mouth to snap at her, but she cuts me off.

“I did mention it. One of the first nights we shared a room together.” The hard look on her face is replaced with a soft one and she lowers her voice. “You know, you’d think I’d hate you after everything, but I never did. Even after they took me to the basement, I knew I should hate you, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was happy for you and I thought if it can’t be me at least it’s someone.”

I’m still lost. Folding my arms across my chest, I frown. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aurora rolls her head back and blows air out of her cheeks. “You’re her,” she says softly. “The girl I mentioned. The one who got out. The one who got away.”

I recall that conversation and a part of me wants to believe her and another part of me is still in denial. “You said I didn’t know that girl.”

“That’s because you don’t, do you?”

I shake my head, drop my arms and start playing with my fingers.

“I wish you could remember.” A mixture of happiness and sadness tugs at Aurora’s vocal cords. “You would have liked that Adelaide.”

I don’t know what to say. How to feel. What to think. I lift my head, still confused and look deep into her eyes. “I—I,”

She knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Don’t apologize.” She swallows hard and sighs. “You saying you’re sorry a million times isn’t going to change anything.”

I open my mouth to respond again, but she cuts me off for what feels like this fiftieth time in our short conversation. “Forget it.” She raises her hands, walking backwards. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No.” I charge toward her. “I’m glad you did.”

“It’s not going to change anything.”

“It might eventually.”

Aurora stops on the set of cement steps leading up to the building. Her eyes flit to the metal fence. She mouths the word I’d just said, “Eventually.” The she snaps out of her trance-like state and looks me square in the eye. “I don’t understand why you keep looking over at that fence. There’s nothing but an abandoned field there. I mean if you like staring at dead grass and garbage that’s cool, but—,”

“The men’s ward is there,” I interrupt. “They’re always outside doing stuff. Watching them distracts me.”

Aurora stares at me for a moment, puzzled, then her lips form a straight line. “Adelaide, the men’s ward burned down five years ago.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I see them all the time.”

“The new men’s ward was finished a year and a half ago. It’s a mile up the road.”

My mind keeps going back to the word
liar
. I keep telling myself that she has to be lying. But then I have to ask myself why? Why would she make all of this up? Why would she deliberately try to screw with me? “This isn’t real,” I mumble. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m actually sitting in Dr. Watson’s office listening to the gentle ticking of the metronome and at any second I’ll wake up and realize this whole conversation was just a fucked up nightmare.

“Oh, it’s real,” Aurora assures me. She glances over her shoulder, peering up at the massive gloomy red brick building. “This place just has a way of fucking with your head.” She shudders then faces me. “This place always has a way of bringing a person back. Even when they’ve escaped in the past.”

My eyes follow hers up the building, working past the iron trellis to the second story and center on one of the barred windows.

And the whole time I keep thinking that maybe I’m not as sane as I thought I was.

Chapter 24

~AFTER~

Aurora’s words flit through my mind.

You’re her. The one that got away.

I don’t understand. Can’t wrap my head around it. If I’m the one that got away, how did I end up back here?

More words from Aurora that make no sense bounce around my brain.

Somehow this place always has a way of bringing you back.

Pacing the length of my room, I growl in frustration and rake a hand through my hair. Maybe the tiny flashes I get have something to do with me getting out. Maybe they do have importance then. Maybe they are telling me something. I replay Dr. Watson’s words in my mind, “
I’m trying to help her remember. Not make her forget.
” Maybe that’s what happening to me. Maybe now that I haven’t been given any sedatives my memory is returning. Now I’ll know why I’m here and what happened.

The click of the lock on my door turns and snaps me to attention and banishes all of the questions from my mind for the moment. Damien stands in the doorway, his back straight as a board, a frown on his lips, and a haunted look in his radiant blue eyes. “You have to come with me,” he informs me in a cool voice.

Seeing him after he’s ignored me for so long shakes me to the core, and I can’t do anything but remain in my spot and stare at him. Part of me is angry at him for accusing me of loving Dr. Watson, a man I don’t even know, and the other part of me wants to be folded in his arms more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life.

“Damien, I—.”

He continues regarding me in a cool manner and simply says, “Let’s go.”

I’m not going anywhere with him until he tell me what’s wrong or what I’ve done to upset him. I fold my arms across my chest. “No.”

He slants his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” I huff. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else. In one swift movement, he lunges for me, grips onto my arm, and yanks me out the door into the quiet hall. He keeps one hand on my arm and locks my door with his free hand then tries to escort me down the hall. I drag my feet, try to run in the opposite direction, but he’s much stronger than I am. He tightens his grip on my arm and jerks me forward. “You have an appointment with lover boy and I don’t want to get in trouble for you being late because you’re being difficult,” he snaps.

His words blow holes into my chest.
Lover boy? Lover boy?
“You’re my only lover boy,” I tell him then I lift my free hand and dig my nails into his arm. He growls, stunned by the pain, and releases his hand from my arm. “Stop this! Stop this right now Damien Allen!” I scream and spin on my heel, running away from him down the hall.

I don’t make it very far. He’s next to me in a second, yanking me by the arm again. “You’ve already ripped my heart out of my chest Adelaide.” His tone is rough, gritty, and laced with pain. “Do you want to cut it up and feed it to me as well?”

“You’re being ridiculous!” I shriek and swat at his hand. “I’ve done no such thing! I never would!”

“I thought when you promised me you’d love me forever, you’d stay true to your words. And you didn’t,” he says harshly as he continues to drag me down the hall. “You’re a liar.”

“No!” I shake my head. “I am not! You’re wrong! You’ve got this all wrong!”

Damien stops. His body tenses. Then he looks over at me with a miserable tortured look in his stormy seas of blue. Pain etched across his beautiful face. “When I said I’d love you forever, Addy, I meant it.”

“So did I,” I snap. “I shouldn’t even have to assure you of it.” Pulling my arm from his grasp, I dash out in front him, taking his face into both of my hands. I gaze into his blue eyes that are rolling all over the place. “Look at me.”

He won’t.

“Damien, look at me!”

He brings his eyes to mine and I can remember the first time I gazed into them, that hot summer day in June, that seems like forever ago. I remember going home and closing the front door behind me and giggling like a little girl because he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. Most of all, I remember thinking that if I could stare into the depths of his gorgeous blue eyes for the rest of my life, I’d be the happiest girl on the planet.

I stare into those blue eyes now, but I’m not getting the same vibe that I did then. Because there’s something missing from them now. I can’t see into them. They almost look murky and glazed over. Not that deep vibrant blue that they used to be. Closing my eyes, I swallow the wad of thick saliva in my throat. What am I doing? Questioning myself on whether his eyes are cloudy or not?
This is insane.
I kiss his lips. The beautiful, full pouty lips that have smiled at me, touched every inch of my body, and whispered lovely words into my ears. He returns the kiss reluctantly, but I’m surprised by how cold his mouth is.

How it feels foreign.

And odd.

It’s like kissing a fish.

“Damien?” He pulls away from me, runs a hand over his jaw and a soft, genuine smile spreads across his face. My eyes flit back and forth across his cheekbones, eyebrows knit in concern. “What’s wrong with you?” His skin is beyond pale. No toasted almond tone. No rosiness in his taut cheeks. He looks like he’s been bleached white.

“Nothing, love.” He takes me by the arm and guides me down the hall. This time gently. “We’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

I am beyond confused. What’s with the mood swings? A minute ago he was so angry with me I thought he might bring me to tears. Now all of a sudden he’s being nice. I grip his fingers tightly, my feet scuffing against the floor, the cold temperature of the tile bleeding through my socks. His profile comes into view and right above his cheekbone there’s a patch of his coal black hair missing. I reach up to touch the bald spot, but he swats me away. “Damien? Are you sick?” My eyes work their way over him. “You look terrible, my love.”

Damien coughs out, turning his head and using his elbow to cover his mouth. “I think I might be coming down with something.”

“Oh no. You poor thing. I wish I wasn’t in here. I’d take care of you. I’d make you feel better.”

We stop outside of Dr. Watson’s office and Damien does something spontaneous. He snakes his arm around my back, pulls me tightly to his chest and kisses me. Kisses me hard. And even though his mouth is still cold, I can feel the intensity in the kiss, the passion, the neediness and want. So I lose myself in it, falling deeper and deeper into a world where only he and I exist.

In this world, we’re not confined by the asylum, or doctors, or mental illnesses. We’re in the field behind my house, the sun raining down on our skin, the scent of wild flowers dancing in the breeze. We’re playful and in love, rolling around in the long green and yellow grass, our clothes crumpled and dirty, perspiration causing our hair to sick to our faces.

We laugh.

Together.

Making music with our voices rumbling together.

Then I’m falling again, crashing back to reality when Damien pulls out of the kiss. For a second, I just stand there, reaching out for him, my eyes still closed. “Come back to me,” I whisper. But when I open my eyes, Damien is just standing there, biting his lip, a saddened look on his face. “Damien, what is it?” I move closer. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

He winces at the sound of my voice. “It’s too much.” His voice cracks.

“What’s too much?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead he turns his head, lets out a depressing sigh, and I watch as a tiny tear rolls down his cheek. The sight of his tear breaks my heart and makes me sick at the same time because I can’t help but wonder if I’m the one who’s making him cry. I take another step closer and slowly raise my hand to wipe the tears from his cheek, but Damien catches me by the wrist before my hand makes it all the way up. “Don’t.” The word comes out shallow and raspy in his throat.

“I don’t want you to cry,” I say. “Tell me. Tell me what I can do to ease the pain.” He has to tell me. He has to let me do something because seeing him like this has me seconds away from tipping over the rails of grief and insanity. “Please, Damien.”

He opens his cloudy blue eyes and blinks back a few more tears. He’s breathing softly, but his breaths come out wheezy. He shakes his head, lowers it, and when he lifts it, he takes my hand and places my palm flat against his chest cavity. His muscles twitch underneath my fingertips and I can feel his cold, clammy skin seeping through the thin white shirt of his uniform. He hunches over, resting his forehead against mine. “You’ll always have it, Adelaide.”

I inhale his musty breath. His breath used to smell like coffee and chocolate. Now it smells of damp, dark closets, and decay. “Have what?”

Damien presses my hand harder against his chest. “My heart.”

A gasp leaves my throat and his words stab and twist in my gut. My heart throbs and palpitates in my chest. My fingers tremble. With quivering lips and tearstained cheeks, I open my eyes. My hand is still out, lingering in the air.