WHITE WALLS (11 page)

“Yes, Dr. Watson.”

“Good. Now get some rest.” I fight the urge to ask him if that was an order and simply lie back on my pillow. Dr. Watson continues, “You've got some fight in you. That's an admirable quality. If I was hit by a car, and sustained the amount of injuries you have, I don't think I'd be up and on my feet so quickly.”

Hit by a car?

So that's what the bright lights were.

I mean I should have suspected it because I knew I was on a road, but then again I was delirious from not having any food, water, or proper sleep. I almost smile when I think of the compliment Dr. Watson just gave me. Damien always told me I was a strong person, but Daddy's words that haunted me never allowed me to believe him. Damien was right. I'm a lot stronger than I give myself credit for.

With a turn on his heel, he starts for the door. “Dr. Watson,” I call out. He stops and glances at me from over his shoulder. “For what it's worth, thank you.”

He doesn't answer, only nods.

“I'm not sure if the police told you what happened to me or not, but—”

“It's none of my business, Adelaide,” he says cutting me off. He walks to the door, puts his hand on the knob and pulls it open slightly.
 
“But it is my business to make sure that you're recovered before you leave.”

Then he exits, leaving me alone to drown in my own thoughts.

Chapter Fourteen

~Before~

I don't like Dr. Matthew Morrow.

At all.

I see him from time to time for private therapeutic sessions and I know that lurking behind that placid, face smile of his is a monster.

I've seen the way he treats the patients who don't cooperate with him. He's loud, brutal, and cruel. He gets physical by slapping, pushing, and restraining. Sometimes he takes unruly patients to the basement where he performs procedures on them. He reminds me of Daddy. So I told myself early on that I wouldn't give Dr. Morrow a reason to be loud, brutal, and cruel with me.

I stand in the doorway of his wide office with yellow walls, hardwood floors, and a plaid loveseat in the far corner. Dr. Morrow's salt and pepper hair is the only part of him I can see from where I'm standing, but I can tell he's absorbed in paperwork. “Come in, Adelaide,” he beckons with a hand gesture.

Timidly, I take a few small steps into the office then scurry over to the loveseat. I lie back, positioning my head on the head rest and wait for Dr. Morrow to finish up. My hospital gown rides up my thighs, almost to my pubic region and I tug on it frantically until it's at a reasonable level. Then I hear a voice. “I don't like this guy.” Damien.

I don't look in his direction, but I whisper, “Go away!”

Damien shakes his head and sits down on the floor. “I'm not going anywhere. I don't trust this guy.” Damien cocks his head in Dr. Morrow's direction. “He should be a prison warden not a doctor. Doctors are supposed to help people.”

“He is helping!” I snap and raise my voice.

Dr. Morrow lifts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Did you say something, Adelaide?”

I quickly shake my head as Dr. Morrow shuffles a stack of papers on his desk and folds his hands in front of him. He shifts and leans back in his chair, his eyes dead-locked on me. “All right then. Let's get started.”

I nod.

“How have you been feeling, Adelaide?” Dr. Morrow's voice is deep and brusque and there isn't one ounce of concern in it.

“I'm starting to feel better,” I tell him. “I'm not having as many night terrors and the voices I used to hear are starting to fade.”

Damien snorts and I still refrain from looking in his direction.

“Good,” says Dr. Morrow. He sits up and picks up a notepad. “Tell me about your father.”

“My father?” I question. “What about him?” I like to think that he died. Or never existed at all for that matter.

Dr. Morrow grips a pen, narrows his eyes, and exhales. “Has he tried to contact you at all?”

“No.” I hope the doctor can sense the relief in my tone.

“Does that bother you?”

“No.”

I am glad Daddy refrains from contacting me. But even if I wanted him to, deep down inside of me I know he wouldn't. Deep down inside I know that he probably hates me more now than he did before. Because in his head, just like when he used to beat me, everything that happened to him is my fault.

I testified against him and from the look in his face during his trial, I knew that that would be the last time I ever saw him. A small part of me was elated and at the same time I was terrified. It was difficult to look at the man who'd inflicted so much pain into my life. It was difficult to look at the man who fathered me and not see an ounce of love for me in his eyes. But I knew I had to go through with it. There had to be justice for what he'd done to Mommy and Damien. What stood out to me the most about that day were two things; Damien’s' parents who sat in the back of the courtroom and never once looked at me while I was on the stand. Then Daddy and the way he looked at me. I remember the way he scowled at me. I remember the way he drug his finger across his neck, eyes wide with fury, insinuating the obscene gesture was for me. I am glad Daddy is locked up for life. I hope I never see or hear from him ever again.

~ ~ ~

After my session with Dr. Morrow concludes, I walk down the hall with Damien at my side. I still won't look in his direction, but I know he's there. I can feel it because suddenly the whole temperature in the hall drops a level or two. Finally he says, “How long are you going to let this go on, Addy?”

I stare blankly straight ahead. “Let what go on?”

“How long are you going to continue avoiding me?”

Until you get the hint and move on to the after-life. “I don't know.” I'm surprised by my actions toward him, really and truly. In the past, I possessed no strength when it came to Damien. He could persuade me to do almost anything. Except maybe jump off a bridge or something. I know I submitted to his every whim in the past, but that was because I loved him so much. Sometimes the love I have for him suffocates me even now. Before I convinced myself that it was okay to not breathe because living without him would be like living in a world without air anyway.

But now...

I see things differently.

I'm thankful every day that I met Damien. That he whisked me away is his convertible to a world of possibilities. A world where I wasn't just the daughter of the town drunk. A world where I wasn't just a girl with a miserable life. We loved each other. We had hope. Now we have nothing.

Because Damien is dead.

I can't hold on to what used to be. I can't go through life loving him this way.

It’s sick.

Twisted.

Not right.

 
“Damien, I—” The rest of the words get caught up in a wad of saliva when I notice Suzette staggering down the hall. My eyes widen and terror snakes through my veins at the sight of her. Her hair is frizzy and messy. All the color is drained from her face. She has purplish crescents underneath her eyes. My jaw hits the floor. “Suzette.”

I know they gave her electro-shock and I’ve witnessed the flickering lights and vibrating walls, but I’ve never seen a patient after receiving electro-shock therapy. And right now, I feel like retching.

Suzette looks as dead as Damien does sometimes.

How can the staff possibly live with themselves after inflicting this kind of torture on another living person?

Damien's eyes are on me. He doesn't even notice Suzette. “Addy, what is it?”

I don't break my gaze away from Suzette. She putters past us and I listen to her mumble,
“I don't want you to touch me. I don't want you to touch me.”
Her voice is vacant, lost. It's like she's in some other world where she's the only human who exists in it.

My eyes follow her down the hall as she uses the tan plaster to support her weight and keep her knees from buckling. It's during that moment that I know that I need to concentrate on one thing; getting out of here.

Chapter Fifteen

~After~

I dream of Damien.

Not the sick, twisted, and dead Damien I saw in the forest a few days ago.

I dream of my Damien.

We're wading in a creek a few miles behind his house. We're both in our underwear and neither one of us seems to care. There's water splashing. Roaring laughter. Fingers caressing skin. And enough kissing to make my knees buckle.

Damien walks ahead of me as we leave the creek, but I remain a few steps behind. He holds his hand out to me, a needy look in his sapphire eyes. “Come on, Addy,” he says.

I remain where I'm standing, looking over my shoulder. There's a man lingering behind me. At least a half a mile away. I can see his form. Broad shoulders. Over six feet in height. But I can't make out anything else. I keep glancing between him and Damien. I feel drawn to both, even though the man behind me is a stranger.

Damien is starting to get impatient. I can tell because when I look at him, his eyes widen then narrow and he's folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing?”

I frown. “What do you mean what am I doing?”

He points over my shoulder toward the guy behind me. “I know.” The word freeze when they leave his lips and hang in the air like warm wafts of breath on a cold winter day.

“Know what?”

“Don't play coy, Addy. You're not very good at it.”

I take a step closer and snap, “And what is it that you think you know, Damien Allen?”

Hate smolders in his blue eyes. “I know you know that man. I know that you're attracted to him. That you might feel something for him.”

I shake my head and cross my arms, spitting out. “Jealousy isn't very becoming on you, Damien.”

He lets out an insane cackle and storms toward me, eyes cast downward into mine. “I'm not jealous, I'm furious,” he seethes. “To think that I gave you everything,” he tsks and shakes his head, “I gave you my heart. I gave you my soul. I gave you my life. And this is how you repay me? This is how you show you're gratitude? By having eyes for another man when you promised me forever!”

At that moment, I snap. And that's something I never thought I'd do. Dead or alive, I never thought I'd ever lose my temper and snap at Damien. “You'll never let me forget it, will you?” I scream. Tears sting my eyes and I dig my fists into them, my balled-up hands shaking. There's a wild look in my eyes that won't go away. There's a ghost in front of me that refuses to fade. And there's an old part of me that just can't let him go. “Don't you think that that day plays in the back of my mind every God damned day? Don't you think that I would have rather died in your place?” I throw my hands up and shove him. “I would have, Damien! I would have! I would have rather died a thousand painful, torturous deaths than watch you die one! I would have given up anything to go back to that day and relive it!” Damien takes a step back as I run shaky fingers through my hair. I lower my voice and cry, “When you died, I thought I lost everything. I was empty. Numb inside. And the pain...the pain of feeling my heart break over and over again was never ending. I'm sorry about what happened. I think you know that. But what I think you know more than anything is you haunting me and reminding me of what you sacrificed is the most mean-spirited thing you've ever done.” More tears well in my eyes, and I suck them back trying to be strong. “The Damien, I knew wouldn't want this for me. He wouldn't want me to live the rest of my life, loving his ghost. My Damien was too proud, good, and selfless for that.”

The one thing that I forgot was that in this dream, this is not my Damien. He's a sinister, sick, and twisted version of the boy I loved. And I know this when he lunges at me, wraps both of his hands around my neck, cuts off the air in my throat, and whispers in a deadly voice, “Love me.”

“No!” I bolt upright in my bed choking on air. “No!” I try to steady my breathing, but I'm too shaken up to concentrate.

Dr. Watson is sleeping in the chair in front of me and his eyes snap open. I assume he's on suicide watch because he thinks I might try and hurt myself.

I lose my composure and the sobbing starts. Embarrassed, I bury my reddened face into my hands. I don't want Dr. Watson to see me like this. Then he might change his mind and call up Oakhill. He might tell them I belong there after all.