Insanity (Asylum 1)

But that pinch will dilute everything. I panic, screaming louder, and thrash as hard as I can. The orderlies in front of me grip my wrists harder and I can only see one clearly through my strands of unwashed hair. Thick black hair, blue blue eyes, and toasted almond skin. He doesn’t look at me like the chubby one with pale, ashy hair next to him is looking at me. He’s not looking at me like I’m crazy. He’s looking at me like he feels sorry for me. Like he wants to take me away from this gloomy prison and hide me from the doctors with needles and metronomes.

Please, Blue eyes.

Save me.

Be my prince charming.

My knight in shining armor.

Rescue me from the burning tower of depression, sadness, and misery.

He doesn’t. He won’t. He can’t.

The needle plunges into my skin and I let out a whimper. The drug blasts through my veins and infiltrates my bloodstream, shutting every organ inside of me down for the night. Widening my eyes, I fight off the effects of the drug as it works its way through my body. I clench my fists defiantly, trying to scream again, but I’m too weak, too tired, and too overtaken by the drugs to do anything but moan inaudibly.

I hear the doctor. He’s talking to the members of the staff in the room. “Just wait until it takes full effect.” His voice is muffled, fading away, pretty soon I can’t hear him at all anymore. I think my door closes.

There’s a ringing in my ears that I can’t shut out. There’s a hand on my wrist that doesn’t let go. Before exhaustion takes over I look up. Blue Eyes is at the end of the bed. He releases my wrist and laces his fingers through mine. I squint as the sedative blurs my vision, begins to decapitate my mind, and then notice the painful look in those blue blue eyes.

On top of the pain in the two blue gems there’s familiarity.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

How could I forget him? Him, of all people. The one person in the entire world who holds the key to my heart. The one and only person who has ever really loved me.

Then I remind myself that they feed and inject me with so many drugs, that it’s a miracle I don’t forget who I am. I struggle to sound coherent, “Damien?”

He mouths something.

Six words.

Six words that seem too impossible to be true.

Six words that bleed hope into my soul.

Six words.

“You’re not crazy. I love you.”

Chapter 2

~BEFORE~

There’s a gentle breeze in the moist June air.

The humidity moistens the wisps of hair dangling from my loose ponytail and curls the tendrils at the nape of my neck. My tan slip clings to my damp body and it’s a sticky and uncomfortable feeling, but surprisingly I’m okay with it.

I throw my head back, listening to the sound of chirping crickets. It’s early morning, around 7:00 and there are a few stragglers who haven’t turned in yet. The sound soothes me, filling my ears with a calm that I don’t get anywhere else but on my early morning walks.

Daddy leaves for work at 5:30 am. I’m not allowed to leave the house when he’s home, so when I hear the front door slam behind him, I watch from my window as his 1953 Rambler flings up dirt and gravel and sails down the driveway. It’s not until that moment that I feel at ease. It’s not until that moment that the fear he’s etched inside of me evaporates. Well, not permanently. But at least I get some peace for about nine hours.

At 6:30, I start walking.

I have no destination. No purpose other than wanting to break out of the prison I’ve lived in for the last eight years for a few hours. I’ve heard some people consider walking a leisurely activity or that they even do it for exercise. I’m envious of those people who have the freedom to make choices like that. Shall I take a walk? Go to the market? I roll my head back, allowing the blazing summer sunshine to overheat my pale cheeks. A depressing sigh exits my lips. Simple, mundane choices are gifts that I’ll never receive.

I walk come rain or come shine. Whether it’s hot or cold out. We live in West Des Moines, Iowa. In Geography, I’d learned that our state was part of what was considered the Midwest. It gets pretty cold here in the winter months. And when most people would rather stay inside and bundle up next to a blazing fire and sip hot chocolate, I still walk.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to walk away and never come back. I laugh to myself whenever I think about this.