WHITE WALLS (5 page)

“I still don't understand.” I fold my hands in my lap and start playing with my fingers.

“To most of society being crazy is like a virus. If we're out and about in public people think they can catch the craziness from us or something. It's much easier for them to separate us and forget we ever existed. Almost like being quarantined. I used to see a psychiatrist before I was brought here. I remember the way my mother's friends used to gossip about it. They wouldn't let me play with their children. It's kind of like women who are divorced nowadays. Other women don't talk to them. They're usually shunned.”

A dull ache throbs in my side and I clench my fists. “It’s like we're tossed out trash.”

Aurora smiles. “That's a great analogy, Adelaide.” She stretches her short legs out and crosses her ankles. “Even if we do get out, I don't think we'll ever have a normal life though. We'll always be the one people whisper about when we walk by. In their eyes, we'll always be lunatics.”
 

“I don't think of it that way,” I tell her. “If I ever do get out of here, I'm going to start over in a place where no one knows me.”

Aurora giggles. “Maybe I'll join you.” Aurora's back is now flat against the wall and we sit close, our shoulders touching. “It's a nice dream to have.”

A dream?

A dream?

Getting out of Oakhill is not and will never be a dream to me. I make a promise to myself in that moment, telling myself that I will get out of this place. I'll start a new life. I'll have a future. I'll do some of things I've always wanted to do like; swim in the ocean, ride a horse, learn how to drive a car, and see a movie.

I will get out of Oakhill.

I will.

No matter what it takes.

~ ~ ~

For the longest time, I fight off sleep.

I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what would have happened if things turned out differently for me and Damien. I wonder what would have happened if I would have died in place of him. There's a huge part of me that wishes I would have.

I think about it every minute.

Of every hour.

Of every day.

Damien and I had such different lives. He had hope. He had a future. A family who loved him. Me, I had nothing. And I know if I would have died in his stead there would be no one to miss me when I was gone.

And Damien, well, I know there are a lot of people who have been missing him. I can't speak for his family, but I've convinced myself that I miss him more than any of them. What hurts more than anything is me, thinking of the life we could have had. Thinking of the loving smiles we'll never flash at one another. The warm embraces we'll never share. The fact that our lips will never ever touch again.

The thoughts of the life we could have had is too much to bear, and as a deep plunging pain stabs my heart, I roll over on my cot. I curl my body into the fetal position. Then I cry myself to sleep.

Just when I think my nightmare from earlier is over, I realize that it's only just beginning.

I stand in my old bedroom.

The window is open. My pale yellow curtains dance against the cool breeze. My eyes avert to the spot on the floor where Damien died. The dried blood on the oak floor is a constant reminder of the boy I loved.

The boy I lost.

The boy who gave up everything including his life, for me.

I'm frozen in my spot, staring at the blood stain on the floor that is now brown in color, rusted like a muffler on an old car. Numerous questions run through my mind as pain pierces my heart and tears prick my eyes. Why didn't the police clean this up? Why did I come back here? Why do I feel like I'm reliving Damien's death over and over again in my own personal version of hell?

A gust of air leaves my lungs and I hit my knees. My chest vibrates with the sobs that are stuck in my throat, and the nausea slaps against my stomach lining in waves. Throwing my hands over my mouth, I hunch over in front of the brown stain. I think I'm going to be sick.

Before I can control myself I'm screaming. I'm pounding my fists into the last part of Damien I'll ever see. The last part of him I'll ever touch. After a while I just lie there, my cheek against Damien's dried blood and the cold wood floor. Numbness spreads through me like a virus, and I can't bring myself to move from the floor. I can't bring myself to even blink.

Sunlight peeks in through my window. Something gleams in my peripheral vision and I glance under my bed. My locket sparkles as the bright light bounces off its surface. I don't remember it falling off. I don't remember being without it. On top of my grief of losing Damien, I'm angry with myself for forgetting the last and only gift he'd ever given me. I snatch it from underneath my bed and clasp it around my neck.

Then my nightmare shifts.

Twists.

Contorts.

I'm standing in front of the small one story house. The white paint on the siding is chipped off in spots, a few windows have cracks in them, and the black shutters dangle from their hinges. There's an empty can of gasoline at my feet, a book of matches in my right pocket. I rub the book of matches with the tips of my trembling fingers, nervous about what I'm going to do. But I tell myself I have to do this.

I have to. I have to. I have to.

There will be too much agony if this house stays standing. Too many bad memories. Too much pain.

Neither Mommy’s
 
or Damien’s death will be avenged.

Daddy living the remainder of his life in a prison cell isn't enough. No. This is the only way. I remove the book of matches from my pocket, pluck one from the bunch, and then I strike it. The only way to bring any kind of peace to my mind, and to somehow deal with the death of my mother and love, is to burn this God damned house.

Yes, I hiss in my mind.

And I swear I hear Damien behind me whispering, “Do it, Addy. Do it.”

Then before I can stop myself, I drop the lit match onto the ground, my eyes zoomed in on the trail of gasoline I left as it goes up in a mixture of orange and yellow flames. The newly lit flames whirl before me snapping, crackling, and hissing. Then I take a few steps back and lift my head as the house full death and misery burns to the fucking ground.

I wake up screaming, but suddenly my screams are stifled.

Where is Aurora? Did I wake her?

My eyes flit around the room, but there are white spots clouding my vision.

There are beads of sweat dripping down my forehead and I struggle to breathe. It feels like someone's hands are wrapped around my throat. It feels like the person choking me is determined. They won't rest until my eyes roll back into my head and they've crushed my windpipe.

Then I realize I am strangling myself.

I refuse to let go. I refuse to let go because death will be sweet. Death will be beautiful. I'll get to see Mommy, and Damien, and Daddy will be left to rot on earth alone.

Hopefully in misery.

I know that misery loves company.

I pray he never gets any.

Three nurses, two orderlies, and one doctor stampede through the door. There's shouting, but it's muffled. I think I hear a faint whimper from Aurora. A nurse and an orderly stand on each side of me and try to pry my hands from my throat, but I squeeze with more force. Soon more tiny white dots blur my vision.

The doctor is shouting orders at the staff members in my room. Everything is slipping.

Fading.

My surroundings flash in and out of focus. I am so close to Mommy and Damien.

So close. So close. So close.

I think I see their hands reaching for me. Then I hear a faint voice, it's too soft and high-pitched to be Damien's. “Not now, little bird. It's not your time.” The voice belongs to Mommy.

I feel a pinch in my right arm. My eyes roll to the left and the metal tip of a needle gleams beneath the flickering fluorescent light above my head. No. Not more drugs. Anything but more drugs. Please.

I don't like the way the drugs make me feel. They erase everything. Make my mind feel like it's somewhere else. Possibly on vacation. They make my arms and legs feel like jelly. And when I walk I feel like the floors are rocking back and forth beneath my feet. It's terrifying to lose control of myself like that, but most of the time I wake up the day after and forget all about losing control in the first place.

I know the staff prefers that all the patients walk around like robots. I've been here a month, but I didn't need a month to learn that tidbit of information. My first day here, I watched them inject a hysterical patient in the hall across from my room. I watched as pleasing smiles spread across the lips of the doctors and nurses, while the patient's limbs twitched a few times in their arms before they stopped moving all-together.

It's during those moments that the staff thinks they've won the battle between sanity and insanity. But they haven't. I know this. It doesn't matter what they think. It doesn't matter how many times they stab a patient with a needle and fill their veins with mind-erasing drugs. The cure for crazy isn’t in that syringe. They’ll still wake up and be crazy tomorrow.

I fight against the drugs snaking through my bloodstream, but after a few seconds my fingers start to lose the grip around my neck. My arms are falling at my sides. My head rolls back and I blink when the bright light above me flashes in my eyes because it's all I can do.

“Roll her over,” someone shouts. I think it's the doctor. “Strap her in tight.”

Metal pinging against metal throbs in my ears. I am face down on the thin mattress of my cot, still struggling to keep my eyes open. My arms are behind me now. There's a voice in my head telling me to move, but I can't.

I realize they've put me in a straightjacket.

To save me from the only thing that can harm me.

Myself.

The echo of my door slamming bounces off the walls of my room. My eyelids are heavy and they droop down. Now I can only manage to keep my eyes open in slits. And just before I succumb to the magnificent thought of slumber, I see him.

Damien.

He crouches down next to me, his blue blue eyes are vibrant. Almost electric. He brushes my hair out of my face with a gentle sweep of his fingertips and plants a kiss on my forehead. “There, there now. My beautiful, beautiful Addy.” His voice is deep yet musical. It reminds me of listening to the classical station on the radio. “Did you honestly think I'd let you kill yourself?”

I try to answer him, but I can't find words. Or my voice. I'm too far gone, drifting off into what I know will be a dreamless sleep, where everything is black and somber. I feel the corners of my mouth pulling. Could I be smiling?

The coils of my mattress squeak and I feel Damien crawl onto my cot. He slips one hand over my hip and pulls me close to him. He rests his hand low on my stomach. His skin feels hot. I shiver as a surge of heat bleeds through my thin hospital gown and climbs up my abdomen. Damien nestles his chin in the crook of my neck, his lips against my ear. “I won't let you die, Addy.” There's a pause. “No,” he murmurs. “I'm right here with you. It's you and me, my love. Forever.”

Chapter Five

~After~

I'm not sure how much time has passed.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Hours maybe?

What I do know is that I've seen some sunrises and I've seen some sunsets, so in my head I assume that it has to be days. But I can't be sure. I can't be sure because everything seems to be blurring together. The sky. The trees. The muddy brown path beneath my feet.

It’s been a while since I've had anything to eat or drink. I've learned to ignore my hunger pains, but my mouth is hot and dry and I'm not sure how much longer I can survive on saliva as a beverage. My steps are shaky. My knees sore. And as I continue walking I tune out all the other sounds in the forest such as; birds chirping, twigs snapping, my own shuffled footsteps.

“Ouch!” A sharp pain shoots through the arch in my foot and I halt my steps when I notice that I stepped on a rock with jagged points on the surface. I sit down on the dirt path, lift my foot and examine the damage.

My feet are covered in mud and there are barely any spots of my flesh visible. Strips of my skin dangle loosely along the sides and there are some spots where dried blood is mixed in with the mud. I've had worse injuries, but I need my feet. I need them to carry me away. To lead me out of the forest. To help me start a new life for myself.