Beautiful Nightmares (The Asylum Trilogy) (12 page)

I’ve hoped for peace for years and years and years.

I’ve prayed for it.

Wished for it.

Now that I’m one step closer, I don’t want to fight to get it.

I want to slip away into the night and be swaddled by the comfort of serenity without having to look back.

I’m unprepared for Willow’s abrupt action, but when she pulls me by the arms and hugs me tightly my body relaxes against hers. This moment between us feels warm and familiar and beautiful and I don’t want it to end. “Please don’t die,” she whispers against the curve of my neck. “I just found you. I don’t want to lose you.”

I can feel her heart hammering against her ribcage. I can hear the soft sobs leaving her throat. “Don’t cry, little bird,” I murmur. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be with you.” Reluctantly, I pull out of the embrace, keeping my hands on her elbows. I’m fearing this might be too emotionally overwhelming for the both of us so I cut our interaction short by changing the subject. “Come with me.” I keep a firm grip on her right hand and pull her through the door.

“Are you allowed to leave this room?” Willow asks as we stroll through the double doors and out into the hall.

“They don’t pay very much attention to me anymore,” I say. What I don’t say is how they used to watch me, follow me, and escort me wherever I went. What I can’t say is how they tortured me by filling my veins with drugs, fried my brain with their version of therapy, and led me on with their beautiful versions of lies. What I won’t say is how I let this place break me. Over and over and over again. Right now, the only thing I want to think about is this happy moment and not dwell on my fucked up past.

We’re half-way to my room when Willow says, “Okay.”

When we reach the cell, I open the door and gesture her inside. She’s wary. I can tell because once I’m in the tiny room, she remains at the door, her eyes sweeping over everything before resting on my face. I motion for her to come closer. “It’s okay.”

She steps through the door, glancing from white wall to white wall before stopping in front of my cot. Brushing past her, I close the door to my cell. I’m trying to be discreet because I’ve kept what I’m about to give her a secret from the staff for years. It’s the only thing that connects me to my past and I didn’t want them to take it from me. I’m at Willow’s side again in a few steps, leaning over and removing the manila file folder from beneath my cot. “Take this.” I shove it at her, placing it flat against her chest. “Hide it. Don’t let them see you with it.”

“What is it?” Willow takes the envelope and peeks inside it.

“My file. My history. It’s all I have left, but maybe, just maybe it will contain some of the answers you’re looking for.”

Our eyes lock. “Does it say anything about my father?”

“Yes. But very little. There’s a clipping from a newspaper on him in there. His obituary.”

“Right.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence between us and I know it’s because neither one of us wants to discuss the painful tragedy surrounding Elijah’s death. I step back and sit down on the cot. I pat the bare spot next to me hoping to make the moment less awkward and say, “So why don’t you tell me about yourself? Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Her face lights up as she takes a seat and the sight of it brings tears to my eyes. She launches into the details of what she’s studying in college, how many boys she’s dated, the places she’s visited on vacation…

Before I realize it, hours have passed by and Willow is staring at the clock hanging above my door. “I’ve got to get going,” she says, rising from my cot.

I stand too and pull her into a tight hug. This moment is too short-lived. I feel like we need more time together. I feel like I need to make up for everything I’ve missed out on. “It was nice to finally meet you,” I say, thumbing tears out of my eyes.

Willow eyes are watering too and she laughs. “You’re saying goodbye like this is the last time I’ll ever see you.” She tilts her head back for a second and sighs. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be back.”

I am elated that she called me mom instead of Adelaide.

I want to clap.

Squeal.

Jump for joy.

“You will?” Hope blossoms inside of my chest like a beautiful, red rose in the spring. “You’ll come visit again?”

“Absolutely,” she says with enthusiasm. “We have an entire lifetime to catch up on.”

I have something to look forward to and that is a beautiful feeling. “Enjoy the rest of your day,” I tell her as I place a kiss on her cheek. Then I show her out of my cell and close the door behind her.

I am reminded of what it feels like to have a purpose again.

I don’t feel like a shell anymore.

I feel somewhat wholesome and complete.

And I know that if I die tomorrow, I can die happy.

Chapter Twenty Four

The road called life is long and winding.

There are curves.

Bumps along the way.

And sometimes…

Sometimes you’re speeding through it, missing the signs and by the time you reach the end of it you have thoughts, recollections, and moments where you realize you haven’t really lived.

And that’s the thing about life.

It goes by way too fast.

At least mine did.

I’m in the bathroom at Oak Hill surrounded by crème tiles that are smathered by a thin layer of brown mold. A set of violet eyes stare back at me through the bathroom mirror. The dark circles underneath them have vanished. My skin looks tight and smooth. My face is fuller and there is a hint of pink in my ivory cheeks.

I look youthful.

I feel rejuvenated.

My eyes drop for a second and I notice that I’m still wearing my hospital gown.

A loud bang outside the door distracts me and causes me to abandon my image observation.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, I walk to the door and open it. I step out into the hall and watch two orderlies, dressed in white as they wheel my body down the corridor. Then my attention shifts when I see Willow, trailing behind them with flushed cheeks and eyes full of tears.

I walk behind her. I reach out for her, wanting to ease her pain by taking her in my arms.

Holding her.

Kissing away her sorrows.

But when I try to touch her, my hand goes right through her hair.

“Please don’t cry little bird,” I whisper. “We’ll meet again one day.”

I stay behind, lingering in the darkened corridor as she and the orderlies turn a corner.

It feels strange that I’m still here when I know that I’m supposed to be moving on. But Oak Hill…

This place has been my home for so long that I feel like I need to take one last walk through before I leave it for good.

I start with my cell.

I sit on the cot.

Stare at the plain white walls.

Then I walk over the barred window and admire the landscape of the institution’s grounds. Dead or not, I know that the deceiving look of this place will always stay with me.

I leave my cell and walk to the rec. I don’t bother going through the double doors, but I observe the few patients in the room through the square, glass windows on the door. One, a heavier set brunette sits on the mustard colored couch and watches television. Two others, both with long brown hair play cards at the back right corner table. I keep my eyes on the brunette facing me. She laughs and places one of her cards on the table. She seems happy.

I find this odd being that most of the time I spent here made me feel like I was living in hell.

But the times change.

So do restrictions.

Over the passing years, Oak Hill adapted a more lenient policy toward the patients. It was a blessing for the new patients, but for the patient like me who had been through worst situations in this place had to offer, well, it seemed like another method of cruel punishment.

I back away from the double doors, take one last look down the dim corridor, my eyes sweeping over the neutral walls. I breathe a sigh of relief and feel like a giant weight has been lifted from my chest. Then, I walk to the entrance.

~
~ ~

The humid, summer air slaps me like a palm to the face the second I walk outside.

I feel the sun’s rays sting my cheeks and I tilt my head up, allowing the glow to cover my entire face. I don’t remember the last time I was outside. I can’t remember the last time it felt so good to let the sun burn my skin.

A gentle breeze tousles my hair as I stroll down the sidewalk and as I bask in the beauty of nature I wonder what my purpose is and where I’m going. I wonder if the sidewalk I’m walking on will take me somewhere or if it will never end.

Then, as I walk farther and farther away from Oak Hill something strange happens. The color of the sky transforms. It changes from blue to grey in a matter of seconds. Dulled stars come out to play and dot the horizon and suddenly, I’m on a brick road.

My eyes drop to my attire and I’m no longer in my hospital gown, but instead I’m wearing a lime green dress and matching lime green shoes.

I continue walking, staring down at the bricks I’m walking on.

Their colors are a mixture of browns and tans and blacks and they look shiny. They look like they have just been kissed by Mother Nature’s tears.

I come to a halt when I see a set of shoes a few feet in front of me. They’re brown and shiny too, penny loafers, that are almost camouflaged by the bricks. My eyes travel up from the shoes and I see khaki pants. Then a white tailored shirt that has been tucked into the trousers.

My eyes stop at his face.

My lungs clench.

My nerves are shot.

My heart is a forest fire engulfed in flames that can’t be extinguished.

I whisper his name into the darkness, “Elijah.”

He smiles and in a few strides, he’s standing in front of me. He’s so close that our bodies are almost touching and I swear I can feel his body heat radiating on to me. He touches my face, runs his fingers through my hair and it’s like the moment he touches me…

Every feeling.

Every kiss.

Every emotion.

And every memory that I ever had involving him comes flooding back to the point where there are so many thoughts and images running through my mind that I feel like I need to turn it off.

He leans in close, his lips a breath away from mine as I gaze into the most beautiful set of bronze eyes that I’ve ever seen. He runs his thumb across my lips and I’m so overwhelmed with happiness and emotion that I forget how to breathe. “Adelaide.” My name sounds like music leaving his voice-box and it’s a tune I know that I’d happily listen to repeatedly. His lips graze mine gently in a teasing way and then he lets out a sigh. He places his forehead against mine. Then he says, “Well, Mrs. Watson. Do you remember me, now?”

And I respond with, “Yes, Mr. Watson. Yes I do.”

Lost and Delirious

(Aurora’s Story)

Prologue

Edward has a dazzling smile.

It glimmers, glistens, and blinds me as he weaves through a sea of couples, making his way toward me. He looks dapper and handsome in his white tuxedo, trimmed in black, his wavy blonde hair parted on the side and secured in place by the salve he uses. He locks eyes with me and his smile widens.

My heart beat picks up.

Starts racing.

A nervous flutter whips through my stomach.

My cheeks flush, red and ripe like the tomato plants in mother’s garden.

I fiddle with the hem of my full, pink chiffon gown, and twist my hips back and forth in a subtle motion. The Drifters croon, filling the gymnasium with a soft and slow melody, setting a mood of ambiance.

A disco ball hangs overheard, glittering, trailing along the neutral walls of Hale High’s gymnasium. The twinkling afterglow hits various colors of streamers hanging down from the rafters of the ceiling.

I never thought I’d see this moment.

I never thought we’d get here.

I never thought I’d be here, with Edward, at our junior prom.

The moment he reaches me, he takes me in his strong, muscular arms and dips me back, a glint of desire in his vibrant blue eyes. He leans in closer, and closer and my eyelids drop down out instinct. I think he might kiss me. I think when our lips touch the overwhelming yet emotional moment might be the turning point for us. I know and feel that I’ll fall deeper. He’ll no longer be just the boy I’m going steady with. He’ll be the boy I love.

But he doesn’t kiss me.

His lips touch my ear.

His warm breath, caresses my neck and brings out a gasp from my throat, his scorching touch bleeds through the thin material of my dress and sets me on fire with an intense burning of want. I do the best I can to keep him from seeing the effect he has on me. I don’t want him to know that his simplistic touch leaves putty in his firm hands.

But my body betrays me.

My eyes open wide and I know by the cocky smirk on Edward’s lips that he knows he’ll be my undoing.

And on top of that, I shiver.

Not out of chill or fear, but out of pleasure.

And then he says as he tangles his finger in my auburn curls, “You look peachy keen, Aurora Jean.”

I have no words.

All I have is an awestruck look on my face and a tiny tremble in my heart.

The song changes. Another ballad is playing and Edward pulls me into an upright position. One hand resting on the small of my back, the other with his fingertips laced through mine. I place my head against his chest, inhaling the musky scent of his after shave when we start to sway back and forth, in sync with rest of the dancing couples.

Sometimes when I look at Edward, I wonder if he knows how beautiful he is. Inside and out. I wonder if when he wakes up and looks in the mirror every morning, if he sees what I see.

A lot of times, I think he’s that one, flawless diamond hidden amongst a pile of flawed ones.