Insanity (17 page)

“You’ve lost your mind, do you know that Elijah?” Dr. Morrow tugs on his white coat, smoothing the wrinkled lapels. “She needed the barbiturates. She was out of bed after turndown and having a violent episode. She was out of control. The drugs would have calmed her down and you know that.” Dr. Morrow pushes away from the wall and points a finger a Dr. Watson. “You’re too close to—.”

“Enough!” Dr. Watson yells, in a loud, rumbling tone. “No more barbiturates. No more deep sleep induced therapy Matthew. I’m trying to make her remember, not trying to make her forget.”

“You don’t even—.”

“I said enough!” Dr. Watson crouches down in front of me.

Dr. Morrow shakes his head and pins his eyes to Dr. Watson’s back. Then Dr. Watson dips his left shoulder down and helps me to my feet. Once I’m up Dr. Watson’s other arm encircles my waist as I suck in a deep breath and slide my bad hand across his shoulder. At least that pain has subsided. Now my entire hand is numb and a tingling sensation shoots up my arm. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Dr. Watson escorts me down the hall and Dr. Morrow’s footsteps pound against the tile behind us. “Where are you taking her?

I notice, Dr. Watson’s jaw clench, then relax. “To the infirmary.”

“You know she can’t go back to her room.”

“Then I’ll take her to solitary afterward. She can spend the night there.” We turn a corner, vanishing from the view of the other’s and Dr. Watson leans close to my ear. “Don’t worry, Adelaide. You’re safe with me.”

I’ve heard that statement before;
You’re safe with me.

I’d heard Damien tell me the exact same thing several times before. And where was he now? The second we got caught, he ran and hid and left me to receive the entire punishment alone. I think that I’m heartbroken more than anything because of it.

And somehow, the words;
You’re safe with me,
makes me feel more terrified than usual.

~ ~ ~

In the infirmary, it has been confirmed that my hand and fingers are definitely broken. Luckily for me, the bones aren’t shattered and won’t require any kind of surgery, so my hand and fingers are set and I’m sent on my way.

Dr. Watson leads me to my room for the night and once I’m inside, the white padded walls burn my eyes and immediately makes my spine tense. I turn slowly toward Dr. Watson, eyes wary. “You’re not…You’re not…”

He finishes my sentence, “Going to put you into a straightjacket?” A small shake of the head. “No.”

Dr. Watson guides me over to the cot and once I’m in bed, he pulls the cover up to my chin. A smile tries to curl on my lips, but I suppress it by pressing my lips together into a straight line. This is strange. I feel like Dr. Watson is my father and I think this whole scenario is weirding me out because he’s also a man who I’ve had sexually explicit dreams about. Even though the first time his face wasn’t visible. I know it was him. There’s something about his voice and touch that made me realize it.

After I snuggle under the covers Dr. Watson takes a step back, and shoves his hands in his pockets. I look up into his eyes. The pain in them is gone. The coolness. He almost looks like he’s content. “Thank you,” I say. I am truly grateful that he came along when he did. Who knows what would have happened if he didn’t?

“Do not thank me, Adelaide. I am your doctor. It is my job to care for you.”

“To care for me, yes.” To save me, no.

“I only wish I would have arrived before Matthew let his temper get the best of him.” A spark of regret glistens in his honey eyes and he turns away from me.

I wish I could reach out to him. Touch him. Comfort him. “It could have been worse.” I can see his profile and sharp features perfectly from where I’m lying. His jaw clenches at my comment then relaxes. He knows I’m right. He knows Dr. Morrow, and he knows that there was a possibility that I could have left the asylum in a body bag.

Dr. Watson’s gaze centers on the clock hanging above the metal door. He stares at it in a melancholy state. He almost looks lost. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Sure.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

He stalks back to the cot and sits down next to me. “Promise me you’ll take your pills like you’re supposed to.”

I frown. “Why?”

He stands up and brushes the wrinkles from his khaki trousers. “You want to get out of here, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t?” That’s what all of the patients at the asylum want. Well, except for maybe Aurora. I make a mental note not to speak to her or trust her ever again. If she told Marjorie about me hiding my pills in the wall, God only knows what she’s mentioned about Damien. “Oh shit!” I try to sit up. “Damien.”

Dr. Watson winces at the sound of Damien and then places a strong hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure Damien is fine,” he assures me.

I know this is going to be a lot to ask, but for some reason I feel like I have to. “Will you make sure he’s okay Dr. Watson?”

There’s a moment of silence and Dr. Watson’s face is bunched together like he’s struggling to deal with the situation and struggling to come up with an answer. Finally he says, “Sure.” He changes the subject with a pivot and a proud walk to my door. “If you want to get out of here, you have to give a little to get a little,” he informs me.

I’m confused. “Excuse me?”

“It’s called a compromise.” Dr. Watson wraps his finger around the metal handle of the door and yanks it open. “Just take the meds, okay? For me?”

“Alright.” Technically, he did save me and he did say he’d make sure Damien is okay. “I promise I’ll take my meds.”

“Thank you Adelaide.” He steps out into the hall, but pokes his head through my door. “I’ll see you then. Day after tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Dr. Watson.” Part of me wants to call him back into the room. To invite him to lie in my cot with me, even though I’m certain it wouldn’t exactly be comfortable. I want feel his arms around me. I want to feel his warm body next to mine. His breath on my neck. But I say nothing.

“Goodnight.” Then he flicks off my light, closes my door, and I drift off to sleep listening to the sound of his footsteps as they trail down the hall and fade into the quiet.

Chapter 21

~AFTER~

Time passes by slowly in solitary confinement.

Minutes turn into hours. Hours turn into days. Days turn into weeks.

There are times where I feel like a forgotten article of clothing. You know that missing sock that’s hidden in the back of a person’s closet and isn’t found until one day that person decides to clean it. Of course Marjorie comes, three times a day to deliver my meds and my meals and a few times a week she delivers me to my treatment sessions with, Dr. Watson. Other than that I am alone.

I can’t stand being confined by these padded walls.

My skin is prickly.

My legs restless.

And my heart is heavy.

Emptiness swells inside of me and oozes out through my pores and I’ve spent a lot of time, curled up on my cot crying. Not necessarily out of weakness, but more out of loneliness. I long for interaction with the other girls. I feel like a part of me dies a little more every day when I wake up in this room, and remain here by myself with no one to talk to.

Last week I’d asked Marjorie if she’d bring me a pack of playing cards. Much to my surprise, she obliged and I spend my free time with the deck laid out across my firm cot, playing solitaire. That seems to pass the time on most days. But there are other days where I just don’t feel like playing and when it’s one of those days, time seems to stretch on forever.

Even though I’m still angry with her, I miss Aurora. She used to be able to bring light to the darkest situations with one sarcastic comment. I miss laughing. I can’t remember the last time I did it. Weeks? Maybe a month? Who knows if I’ll ever be able to do it again?

Hugging my knees to my chest, I glance out the barred window in my room. Sometimes, I think about what I might do if I were able to remove the bars. There’s a huge chunk of me that thinks that maybe I should just hurl myself through the glass, freefall, and then meet the pavement with acceptance, reminding myself that even death would be better than remaining at Oakhill for the rest of my life.

A knock at the door yanks me away from my morbid thoughts and I’m up from my cot in one hop, dashing to the metal barrier that keeps me confined. On my tiptoes, I peek through the small window. When I notice a white uniform, I step back from the door and listen as the lock clicks. In solitary our doors are locked from the outside so that we can’t get out. That’s one thing I miss about sharing a room with someone. In the shared rooms you get a little more freedom, they don’t lock you in like a prisoner.

For some reason when you’re moved to a shared room, it’s considered that you’re less of a threat to yourself and the other patients. I’m not sure why. I’ve never thought to ask. Or wanted to. I was simply glad to be out of my straightjacket and glad to have some company. Even if the company has a few screws loose.

Today I’m being taken to the infirmary. They are doing a check up on the progression of the way my hand is healing and they are going to change my cast. I’m glad. This one itches like hell, has gotten filthy around the edges, and smells like sewage. I wait while the lock snaps into place and the door swings open. Damien stands in front of me, snapping the keys on his belt loop. The sight of him infuriates me. Where has he been while I’ve been locked up? Does he even care?

He skittered away like a scared kitten the night I was brought to solitary and I’d only seen him once after that and all we did was exchange a glance.
A glance!
I brush past him into the hall and fold my arms across my chest. He catches up with me and I feel his blue eyes burning a hole through my cheek. “What’s your problem?”

I come to a halt, mid-step and face with a scowl. “My problem?” His eyes are hard and I know we are going to have a huge blowout and then I’m certain that I’m going to make even the nuttiest patients here seem sane. “My problem?” I repeat, inching closer. “You. Are my problem.”

Where has he been all this time? Why hasn’t he come to me? Not just for comfort, but because that’s what you do when you love someone.

“You can only have a problem when a person has done something wrong, Addy,” he scoffs. “I’ve done nothing. Do me a favor and stop with the childish bullshit.”

My mouth drops open and I start walking again. “Then you do me a favor,” I shout over my shoulder. “Leave me alone!”

“Maybe I will!” he shouts back, his loud booming voice filling the narrow hall. “Then you’ll have as much time as you want to spend with your new lover, Dr. Watson!”

That stops me dead in my tracks.

Makes my lungs clench.

My heart quits beating.

I pivot slowly, lips quivering, tears watering in my eyes. I’m twisted up inside, torn between hurt and anger and I can’t decide which emotion I should let win the battle for my attention. I charge toward him, vision blurred, cheeks flushed, and shove him into the wall. “How could you even say something like that? How could you accuse me of such a thing?” It’s true that I’ve had thoughts about Dr. Watson, but I would never act on them.
Never
.

But this is where this situation gets tricky. Dr. Watson was the one who was there for me when I needed someone. Not Damien. Dr. Watson swears he’s hell bent on seeing me get out of this dreadful place. Damien said this too, but I haven’t heard from him or anything about his plan for our escape. So who should I trust? Who should I listen to?

Damien nudges me with his shoulder and pushes past me. “Why should I believe that? You’re always with him? I can tell that he loves you. I can see it in his eyes.” He faces me, gaze hardened. “Are you impressed because he’s a doctor? Got a fancy Ivy League education? I could have had all those things too, you know? I could have—.”

My good hand covers his mouth and I say, “Damien stop.” I suck back more oncoming tears. “Just stop, please.” I drop my hand. “He’s just my doctor. That’s all. He’s trying to help me get out of here.”

Judging by the look on his face, I don’t think I’ve reassured him of anything. He starts walking and I fall in line with his steps. “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you Addy?” Damien casts his eyes downward, focusing on the floor.

My eyes trail down his face and I can see that he’s blinking back tears. “Damien you know that’s not true.”

“It is though.” His voice is thick with emotion. Fractured with pain. “I know you love that doctor.”

Love him? Love him? I don’t even know him.

“Damien, no!” I don’t understand why he’s acting like this. I don’t know why he needs me to reassure him time and time again that he makes me shiver with one caress of his fingertips. Breathes fire into my heart. Lights up my soul. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. He’ll always be. “Please don’t talk like this.”

He doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the walk to the infirmary. At the door he nods at me, a faint smile on his lips as I walk through the open door.

Inside the nurse working is a friendly blonde named Peg. I focus on her nametag, and I can’t even get excited when she tells me my hand should be as good as new in a few weeks. I’m completely consumed by Damien and the pain that was etched on his features. Not only that, but his self doubt.

How could he think I’d ever love another the way I love him? How could he think that there was anyone else out there that could make my heart sing, soar, and nosedive the way he does?

I need to make him understand this. I need to somehow pull him out of this depressed state and show him that he’s my one and only.

And when I walk out of the door of the infirmary those are my exact intentions. I’ll crush him with my arms and smother him with my lips and breathe loving words into his ears.

I’ll make him see.

I’ll make him feel.

I’ll make him understand.

There’s only one problem with that…When I leave the infirmary there is a new orderly standing by the door and Damien, well…

Damien’s gone.