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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 pro
ud 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.
