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CHAPTER1
ADELAIDE
Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is blood.
The flowing crimson beckons as much as it repels me. The war within my mind is a constant battle, only there is no winner.
I walk into the psychotherapist’s office. Immediately, my gaze lands on the delicate fluttering of the doctor’s pulse. It presses gently against the woman’s ivory skin, a steady cadence that taunts me. I drop my head and brush the length of my hospital gown to distract myself. The cotton material is rough and a pale green that’s supposed to soothe, but it’s a joke.
There’s no serenity to be found in this mental facility.
“Have a seat, Adelaide,” Dr. Hall says with a wave of the hand. “We can start in just a minute.”
These sessions with her make up the majority of my human interactions. They leave much to be desired. Dinah is a kind woman, and her motivations appear genuine, but I hate wasting my time here. She’ll ask questions about my past, and I’ll frustrate her by not responding.
Because I can’t remember anything.
Dinah opens her desk drawer. “How are you today?”
I head over to the armchair reserved for patients. The leather elicits a tiny squeak of protest when I lower myself onto the seat as though it wishes for me to leave. I would, but these visits are mandatory.
Once I’m comfortable, I take a moment to think about the question. It’s simple, a benign inquiry, but I find that it’s hard to answer.How am I?
Physically, I’m healthy.
Mentally, I’m a lost cause, or I wouldn’t have been committed, although I’m much improved now that my nightmares have settled into the dark recesses of my mind. It’s taken me several years to cage them there, but the effort’s paid off.
I refuse to think about what would happen to my fragile mind if they ever escaped.
All that remains is an assessment of my emotional state. This is the most difficult to contend with because I long for things that can never be. I’m a danger to everyone, including myself.
Therefore, emotionally, I’m fucked.
“I’m fine,” I say. I bring my attention to Dinah, running my gaze over her cream silk blouse and black pencil skirt. It’s a little more risqué than usual with the black bra underneath, and her heels are taller as well. A new boyfriend, perhaps? “How are you?”
As soon as the question leaves my mouth, the pangs of regret ram against my chest. The woman swings her gaze to me with hope shining in its depths, and her blood rushes faster through her veins. I never engage, never cared enough to, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me.
As it usually does.
I drop my head and thread my fingers in my lap, retreating into myself. Dinah’s gaze bores into me, and my skin prickles. Silently, I curse myself for indulging in a moment of weakness. Human connection is what I crave.
And fear the most.
“Saturday was nice,” she says slowly, as if I’m a skittish deer, ready to bolt into oncoming traffic. The idea has merit on occasion. “I met someone, and it was fun.”
I remain silent in an effort to discourage any further conversation. Dinah is quick to get the hint. She picks up the pen and legal pad she retrieved from the drawer and takes her seat across from me.
“I have a lunch date, so I’ll be cutting our session short today.” At my nod, she continues. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“When you first came to us, you mentioned there was someone out to get you. We haven’t discussed him in a while, and I think it’s safe to try again. What can you tell me about him?”
I shrug. “Not much. The only thing I remember about him is his gray eyes. I feel like he’s watching me all the time, waiting for my vigilance to wane.”
She scribbles on her notepad, the scratching noise from the pen grating on my nerves. “Why is he looking for you?” she asks.
“I don’t know.”
