Snare (Delirious book 1) (6 page)

His eyes narrow as he studies me. His hand lifts to touch my hair, and then he strokes my cheek all the way down to my chin to lift my head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

My eyes drift down to avoid his, because I don’t want him to see my doubt. With my hand resting on his chest, I slowly pet the fabric. On the left side of his chest, I notice there is a circular brooch, containing a triangle and a strange shape in the middle. After a curious look, I notice it’s the letter G.

“You know I won’t hold back,” he says. His words bring my eyes back to his.

“I know.”

“No matter what everyone else thinks of me. Of you. Of us.”

I nod softly, leaning into his hand and closer to him. With hesitation, he cups my face and looks at me before moving closer. His mouth hovers near mine, his warm breath soothing my skin. His lips brush along mine, as I close my eyes, and he kisses me. It fills me with warmth so much that it takes my breath away. All my senses come to life as he massages my lips with his. His kisses are careful, luscious, soft. Sweet. Perfect. It’s breathtaking. He’s never kissed me before.

His hand slips down my neck, making me shudder and bite my lip. Cupping my ass, he drags me closer to him as lust takes control, his lips moving expertly faster. My body responds to his touch by leaning into his hand, looking for more. His fingers squeeze my flesh, and I love every second of it. I want nothing more than for this man, whom I barely know, to make it all okay again.

Suddenly, a loud bang makes me turn around. The door slams open. In panic, I shriek.

“What’s the matter with you?” the lady says.

“What are you doing in here?” I yell. Other patients appear behind her back and stop in their tracks. They’re watching me like I’m putting up a show.

“Checking up on you, of course. Who were you talking to?” the lady says.

As if she can’t see him. “… Sebastian.”

She raises an eyebrow as I turn around and look behind me. Sebastian is gone. Gasping, I check the room, but my eyes can’t find him anywhere. Did he slip through the window?

“Miss … there’s no one here, and you know that as well as I do.”

“He was. Sebastian
was
here.”

“Stop lying and fantasizing. Get your head out of your ass, girl,” one of the patients yells.

I make a face, and the lady turns around to face her. “Get out of here!” She says that often, but it never helps. Patients flock to drama. Right now, I am the drama, apparently.

“Whatever.” The girl shrugs. “I’m not in the mood for watching some fake make-out session.”

“It’s not fake!” I yell.

I step closer, but the lady puts her hands on her sides. “Stay back. I will not have another fight on my hands.
Behave
. Both of you.”

“Sorry,” the girl says as she walks away, but behind the lady’s back she makes a gesture that insinuates I’m kissing myself. I flip her the finger.

“Okay, that’s it. No shower for you, then.” I’m dragged out of the shower, pulled by my arm, as the door shuts behind me. I don’t care about a shower. It was worth it.

Accompanying song:
“Covenant” by Snowghosts feat. Blue Daisy

Summermount Psychiatric Hospital – April 19
th
, 2013

Civilization is a lie. We tell ourselves we have class, we behave according to social norms we invented—laugh when we should laugh, even when it’s not funny, pray when we should pray, even when we don’t agree, shake hands as if we actually care, tell someone we’re fine, when we truly aren’t. I used to think all of it mattered, too. I believed that if I’d dress a certain way, people would think ‘now that’s a beautiful, charming lady’. That if I didn’t ask questions and did as I was told, the world would be nice to me.

What an incredible load of nonsense. The world is cruel. I found out firsthand.

None of it matters.

Not in here. Not how you look or how you act. Everyone’s crazy, anyway, so nobody’s going to judge you if your hair is messy or if your face is saggy. Clothes don’t matter. I used to be a girl who loved the colorful dresses and hats, accompanied by eye-catching jewelry and a bit of makeup. Now? Not so much. It just doesn’t matter anymore. When you have conformed to living in the midst of chaos, you realize all of it is just so unimportant. When nobody else cares, why should I? The longer I’m here, the less I care about what I look like. Or who I am. In here, there is no real need to express yourself. The only thing that matters is getting better, fixing yourself—which is exactly what I’m avoiding, as well.

All patients ramble on and on about the progress in their treatment, like it’s some sort of achievement when you’re faster than someone else. Being in this institution reminds me of high school. Everyone wants to be the popular one—only in here, it means the more insane, the better. Women turn into bitches with the snap of a finger. It’s as if they all want to protect their own sanity and attack someone else’s, so they feel better about their own depravity. What a joke. We’re behaving like kids, and nobody gives a shit. Worst part is that I’m actively engaging them. I know I shouldn’t, but who else will protect my pride? Not the staff. They don’t care if anyone’s being bullied. They’re just here to keep the patients in check and help them ‘improve’. So lately, I’ve resorted to defending myself instead.

A woman in the lunchroom smirks at me while chatting with her friends. “I heard Lillith over here sucked off her imaginary boyfriend in the bathroom the other day.”

The girls snigger and snort, pretending not to laugh. One of them circles her finger close to her temple.

The women laugh as I stampede away from lunch, leaving my tray behind. One of the staff members grabs my arms as I try to walk out the door. It’s the same lady who wanted me to take a shower the other day.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.”

“I’m sorry, but lunch isn’t over yet. You know the rules.”

“Screw the rules.”

“Are you going to behave like this the entire week, Miss Carrigan?”

“If I must.” I look the woman dead in the eye, making this a staring contest. She knows exactly what I’m talking about, and yet she denies me the right to defend my own honor. The staff knows I’m being made a fool of among other patients, but they do nothing about it. It sickens me.

With trouble, she releases her grip on me. “Fine. If you’re so intent on alienating yourself from the group, go do it. I warned you that if you do not do your best to fit in, this will not be easy. The more you resist, the longer you struggle, the longer it’ll take to get out of here. Just so you know.” She squints at me, but I ignore her self-righteous taunt and walk past her with my head held up high.

In here, I’m not treated like an equal. In here, I cannot decide what I do; instead, my life is governed by women who feel the need to belittle me and make me think I’m insane.

I am
not
crazy. I refuse to agree with their point of view. I will not waver.

I will get out of here, one way or the other.

I walk through the corridors, not knowing where I’m going, but anywhere is better than here. Suddenly, I think about Ashley, and how much I miss having her by my side. She would have told them off. She was the best friend to me, and I did something … or I didn’t …. and now everything between us is ruined.

How in the world did we end up this way?

Without thinking about it, I make my way to the hallway where her room is. It feels like I’m in some sort of trance, being pulled like a magnet toward the one thing in this facility that knows why I’m here. The closer I get, the slower I walk. My breathing picks up. I can’t believe I’m so frightened of someone I used to know so well. I wish it could all go back to the way it used to be. Us, talking, like real friends do, instead of yelling at each other. Maybe, if the staff are not escorting me, she’ll be more willing to talk.

Before I know it, I’m there. Right in front of her. Fate has brought me here, and I must face it with courage. I stand in front of her door, staring into the little window, until her eyes spot me. Like a wolf, she bares her teeth and runs for the door.

“Bitch!”

I cling to the door to prevent myself from stepping back and walking away. I need to face her.

“Ashley …” I murmur, as I place my hand on the glass.

“Fuck you!” She spits at the window, causing me to retract my hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

“I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Of course, you fucking know. You didn’t tell them what happened, that’s what’s wrong,” she growls. “Liar! You stood there, watched everything happen, and you did
nothing
. NOTHING! You’re everything that’s wrong with this world!”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Tears well up in my eyes.

“Sorry doesn’t do shit!” she yells. “Tell them! They don’t fucking believe me. They think I’m insane. Well, guess what? It’s
all
a fucking LIE. I need proof, and you are the only one who knows where it is.” She taps on the window incessantly, as if it will break the glass. I’m more afraid that it’ll break her finger if she keeps going.

“I don’t know what to say. I wish I could look inside my own head and find out what happened and tell them.”

“Get your fucking head out of the gutter, then. You’re lying to yourself,” she spits. “Don’t you think I know? Don’t you think I’ve seen you stammering? You’re trying to protect yourself.”

“I’m trying, Ashley, I’m really trying. I’ll make it right.”

“Not good enough. I know you’re trying to hide from yourself, Lillith. You don’t want to face what happened to us. Instead, you choose to ignore it all and forget it ever happened. You stuffed it away deep inside that little brain of yours so even you can’t reach it. Well, fuck you! I’m in here, thanks to you. So, unless you tell them everything there is to know, I won’t be getting out of here, and neither will you.”

I shake my head, blinking away the tears. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”

She laughs and looks at the floor. “You’re pathetic.”

What she asks of me is impossible to achieve. Even if I remembered, nothing will change the fact that we are in here as prisoners to the system. Nothing I say will make them believe me. Everything I do only strengthens their belief that I have gone insane. Those same facts apply to Ashley. We are not just at war with them, but with ourselves, too.

It’s quiet between us. I don’t know what to say, and neither does she, apparently. After a while, I hear her sigh.

“What are you doing here?” she says.

“I want to help you. Please … I don’t want to fight with you. Can’t it be like before? Us, being friends … The good old days?”

She laughs, hard, like she’s gone mad this time. And then she looks at me with eyes that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “It will never be like it used to be.”

And then she turns around, walks back to her bed, sits down, and faces the padded wall, ignoring me completely. I walk away in silence with my head high, wiping away the single tear that managed to run down my cheek.

I’ve made my decision. I’ll get her out of here. Somehow. Some day. Even if it costs me my sanity. I owe it to her.