Insanity (Asylum 1)

“Yes. She used to smell like lavender.” I take another second as more of the memory pops into my mind. “She had this roll on lavender perfume that she used to dab on her wrists. When I was little, sometimes I’d sit next to her at her vanity and she’d dab some on mine. Then she’d say, a lady should always smell nice .”

“What else?”

“I remember her name. Monique.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Try, Adelaide.”

His incessant pushing irritates me. I don’t like talking about either one of my parents because one abandoned me and the other used me as a human punching bag. All I want is to forget the past ever existed, but there’s a part of me that’s afraid and the other part just wants to move on with my life and focus on getting out of this place.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Do you do this with all of your patients?”

“Excuse me?” His deep voice goes up an octave. “Do what with my other patients?”

“Force them to talk about things they don’t want to talk about,” I huff.

A stern look crosses over Dr. Watson’s beautiful face as he gets up from his chair and walks around to the front of his desk. He sits down directly in front of me, his honey eyes harden like dried concrete. “Adelaide,” he addresses me formally and I grit my teeth because he knows I prefer to be called, Addy. “My other patients and how I treat them is none of your concern. It is important as far as your treatments go for you to talk about your past because there’s a part of your memory that’s missing. Sometimes when we think of things from the past it triggers other memories of things we’ve forgotten.” There’s authority in his tone and a flush in his cheeks. It appears I’ve upset him. Well, he’s upset me too.

I stand in front of him, anger blossoming inside of me and I clench my fists at my sides. “And what are you going to do if I don’t talk about it? Feed me more pills? Inject me with more sedatives?” I lower my voice, fury quivering in my vocal cords. “Electrocute it out of me?”

Dr. Watson’s eyes widen then narrow. He stands slowly and I keep my eyes on him as he reaches full height, towering over me at about six foot two to my five foot one. “You watch you’re tone and mind my authority, Adelaide, or—”

“Or what?” I scream. “You’ll send me down to the basement? Schedule me for a lobotomy just like you did with, Suzette?”

Suddenly, Dr. Watson snaps, lunging for me and grips me by the arm. Even though fear is surging through my bloodstream I’m determined to show no fear and keep a hard look on my face. He backs me up into a corner and my back hits the wall by the door with a thud. He’s enraged, his warm beautiful eyes menacing, his chiseled jawline taut. “Where did you hear that?” he growls.

“What does it matter? It’s true isn’t it?”

He raises his voice. “Where did you hear it?”

I keep my eyes deadlocked on him and spit out, “Some of the other patients.” There, I hope you’re happy, you smug bastard.

He releases my arm and begins pacing in front of me. Then after a second he runs his hand through his shimmering locks of gold. He’s mumbling, “They said,” are the only words I can make out.

“They said, what?” I ask with a bit of boldness. He waves me off and continues pacing. Something is seriously wrong here.

A second later, he stops mid-pace and with a quick pivot, faces me. His lips form a straight line and his eyes won’t meet mine. “You’re done for today,” he dismisses me and walks around the other side of his desk, sitting down in his chair, his back to me. I watch him pick up the phone and dial a number. Unsure of what to do, I remain where I am until he yells, “You’re done, Addy! Go!”

Backing away from the wall, I creep toward the door, worried that any sudden movement might set him off. Out of all of the time I’ve spent with, Dr. Watson, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him lose his cool. The man is always calm. Always reserved. During that outburst, he almost looked—no —he did look terrified.

~ ~ ~

At dinner, I sit alone at the end of the long, cafeteria table and push the over-cooked spaghetti around on my tray. I stare at my lonely meatball in the right corner and jab it with my fork. The fork doesn’t even penetrate the surface, it bounces right off. Eww , the ball of meat is fake. You know, not a homemade meatball, a meatball from a bag. Disgusting . I guess with all the other nasty food they serve around here, I shouldn’t have thought otherwise. Giggling interrupts the play-date I’m having with my entree and out of the corner of my eye I see Aurora, licking the sauce from her noodles and flinging them across the cafeteria. I remain focused on the noodle in her hand as she chucks it. The slimy strand of dough sails through the air before landing in one of the girls’ hair at the table across from ours. I do my best not laugh. After everything that happens here, at least I can count on Aurora to be somewhat entertaining.

Thinking about what happened with Dr. Watson earlier

makes my head hurt. In fact my temples have been throbbing since I left his office. Dropping my fork, and pushing away my tray, I push two fingers into each side of my temples and begin massaging them. The man is complicated yet beautiful. That equals a beautiful, terrifying disaster.

He looked so stunned when I mentioned the word lobotomy. But according to Cynthia he ordered it on Suzette so why did he look so surprised and frightened? Or maybe he didn’t actually order it and Cynthia just assumed he did. I wonder if she knows him like I do or if he’s treating her as well. Because if she doesn’t know him, I could see how she’d come to assume that he might have been the one to order it. My first impression of him was that he had evil tendencies, but I’ve come to learn that he’s just not capable of that kind of cruelty.

Sometimes, when I look into Dr. Watson’s eyes, it’s like behind their hard surface is years and years of hidden agonizing pain. Of course he never really gets personal. He only wants to talk about me and my issues, then again that is his job, but sometimes I think a good treatment session might benefit him in a good way. There are times during our sessions where I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from chest. Like there is a flat metal beam inside of me pressing harder and harder on my lungs, suffocating me. And when I tell him about something troubling me, I feel the metal bar disappear and I can breathe again.

Once I mentioned Damien to him. Even though he was assertive—as always—and responded to my comment, I swear when I mentioned Damien he flinched. I don’t know why, but I decided that maybe it would be best if I didn’t bring Damien up again. At least when I was around Dr. Watson anyway.

Aurora is nosy as hell when it comes to Damien. Yesterday he left a note in my room, telling me to meet him in the utility closet again tonight and my private joy was interrupted when Aurora peaked over my shoulder and asked, “Ohhh, who is that from?”