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for me. If Daddy doesn’t pass out soon I know he will.
Seconds pass by. Then minutes. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever for him to succumb to his drunken stupor. Finally, I stop mid-pace when I hear it, the nasally high-pitched sign of being lost to an alcohol induced oblivion. I wait. I’m careful not to move an inch. Finally the snores escalate into a concoction, somewhere between a grumble and a roar then I know for certain that Daddy has gone away for the night and won’t be coming back until the sun rises.
Thank God.
There’s a part of me wishes that Daddy would sleep his life away. A part of me that hopes that after all these years his drinking will finally catch up to him. That one day he’ll just go to bed and never wake up. But who am I kidding with that dream? It’s the people like Daddy, the wicked ones who go on living forever.
It’s like God puts people like Daddy on earth on purpose. Making them a test for the good people in the world. If you can withstand what the good Lord throws at you, by staying true to your goodhearted self, and persevering through all of the obstacles thrust before you, then you’ve earned a spot by his side in Heaven.
I look forward to that day.
I look forward to the day where I’ll be smiling down from Heaven, wondering what made my daddy become so sick, twisted, and rotten. I look forward to the day when I can forgive him for everything he’s done and watch him from a cloud up in Heaven, praying for his damned soul, while he’s doused in flames, and burning in hell.
Climbing out my window without Damien’s hands guiding me proves to be a challenge. Especially with bruised ribs. When I’m halfway through the square opening, my chest hits the windowsill, hard and as pain plunges through every part of my body, I release my grip on the window and fall backwards, my back slamming into the ground with a thud. The wind gets knocked out of my lungs and I cough out, but that only worsens the pain.
Sitting up, I hug myself as tight as I can, sliding on my butt against the dewcovered grass and rest my back flat against the white aluminum siding of my house. My lips quiver. Tears burn my eyes and threaten to fall. I hold my breath until I can’t anymore. The intense pain in my ribs dies down slightly and I let out the breath I’ve been holding in, slowly. Easily. Softly.
There. That’s better. I can kind of breathe again.
Using the house as a crutch, and taking my time, I manage to get on my feet. Then I heave myself away from the safety of hard sturdy surfaces and aluminum siding. During the first shaky step I stumble, but catch my balance by holding an arm out, keeping the other one wrapped around my chest. Then I stroll off, covered by an afghan of moonlight and stars to the giant looming weeping willow where I know Damien will be waiting.
Chapter 14
~AFTER~
After the Cynthia incident, Dr. Watson cancels my session and puts the metronome away. I am relieved and elated. He dismisses me so I can go and join some of the other female patients in the rec room.
Damien waits for me at the end of the hall and when I start to pass him, he falls in line with my steps. I shoot him an annoyed glance. “What’s with you?” I ask in a firm voice. “What’s with the hateful glares and scowls toward Dr. Watson?”
He scowls at me just mentioning Dr. Watson. “I don’t like the way that man looks at you. And I know he touches you. I’ve seen it.” His voice spits venom and I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a vile tone leave his lips. He wraps his finger around my arm and halts me mid-step. “You belong to me.” His voice is territorial. “You’re mine. Nobody will love you the way I do.”
Frowning, I yank my arm away and stalk down the hall. Damien is jealous and I don’t like it one bit. “You’d better quit with the nasty looks and scowls Damien Allen,” I spout off. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you, that you’re my one and only. That I love you with every depth of my soul. Dr. Watson is my doctor. He’s only trying to help me and that’s all it is.”
Damien is silent for a moment. “If that’s true, then run away with me.” I stop walking and Damien grips my shoulders and I gaze into his radiant blue eyes. “Come away with me, Addy,” he repeats. “I told you once I’d help you get out of here. Now let’s do it. You know I’ll protect you. You know I won’t let them hurt you. We can break free.” He brushes his lips against mine and sends a shiver of pleasure throughout my nervous system. He pulls away and his moist luscious lips rest gently against mine. “We can be together. Love each other freely. Just you and me for the rest of our lives.”
When I saw him for the first time after I’d been brought here that’s all I ever wanted. All I ever wanted was for us to spend every waking minute together, worshiping each other, loving each other. His hands are on my face. His lips press against mine again, softly, sensually. Waves of desire rush through my body and I swallow hard to get a hold of myself. I rest my forehead against his and whisper, “I don’t know Damien. It’s too dangerous.”
After witnessing what just happened with Cynthia I’m not sure if I’ll ever try escaping again. The fear has been instilled in me. The worry. The doubt. Even if Dr. Watson is against the inhumane and vile torture Dr. Morrow inflicts on his patients, who’s to say Dr. Morrow won’t go against Dr. Watson’s words and punish me if I tried what Cynthia did. I replay the image of Dr. Morrow’s face. I saw the chilling gleam in his blue-green eyes. I saw the evil smile curl on his thin lips.
Damien pushes my hair away from my face and tangles his fingers up in my raven colored locks. “It’s not,” he murmurs. “I already told you, I won’t let them hurt you. You need to trust me, Addy.” His voice is full of love and warmth and true undying devotion. “I love you more than anything and I’d never ask you to risk your life like this if I didn’t think we’d make it through.”
I know he’s right. And I do trust him. But something is holding me back. I don’t know exactly what that something is, but it’s enough for me to question Damien, and that’s something I never thought I’d do. In the past, I’d always just go along with him. I’d always listen to him and just trust that he knew what he was doing. Then I remind myself that this is not the past. This is not me and him sneaking off in the dead of the night while Daddy was asleep to make love under the willow tree in my backyard. This is different. This is a life or death situation. My life or death situation. “Damien I—.”
He curls his fingers around the nape of my neck, positions his face inches away from mine and presses a finger to my lips. “Shhh.” His eyes dart around the hall, warily as the hanging light above our head flickers and the buzzing noise fills the walls.
My limbs tremble and fear sparks in my violet eyes. I shake my head as my lips begin to quiver and a sick feeling dances around in my gut. “No,” I cry softly. “No.” It always terrifies me when they take someone to the basement, but it’s worse now because I know who they took. Hearing about someone being taken down there is one thing, but actually witnessing it is something completely mind-altering.
Cynthia, so young, so innocent, with her wide powder blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and short blonde hair. All she wanted was a new life. All she wanted was a fresh start. A chance at normalcy. I don’t think it’s a crime for her or any of the patients here—myself included—to want to escape. I don’t think it’s wrong for us to have hopes and dreams for a future life outside of this place.
Before I came here, Damien and I had that plan, a plan for the future. We were going to pack our bags and run away together. Be together forever. Love one another without his mother and her elite blueblood qualms, and my father, his three best friends, and his deadly fist. And we were on our way until, out of nowhere, I wound up here.
Another flicker of the overhead light and my entire body stiffens. Cynthia’s muffled shrieks seep through the walls and I do everything I can to keep from shrieking myself. Failing to keep quiet, I let out a squeak then cover my mouth as Damien kisses my temple. “Come here.” He holds his arms out and envelopes me in them, wrapping them around me so tightly that I feel bound to him in
more ways than one. He rests his chin on the top of my head for a second then says, “I’ll keep you safe. Follow me.”
With my head to his chest, he guides me a few steps to my left then we duck into the staff restroom. The vibrations of electricity don’t touch the pewter tiled walls and the overhead light is a long beam of fluorescent bulbs that don’t flicker. Damien locks the door with his free hand and I duck underneath his shoulder, walking straight toward the only white porcelain toilet in here. I plop down on the throne and bury my head in my hands, running my fingers through my tangled hair before pulling it taut against my scalp.
I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to burn this place to the ground. I want to save every patient and give them a chance at life. Because this…this…how we live every single God damn day, this isn’t a life at all.
