Insanity (Asylum 1)

~BEFORE~

It has been weeks since I’ve spoken to Damien. And twenty one days without speaking to him has been torture.

He calls me.

He comes to my window.

He’s stalked me in the mornings while I take my walks. Just yesterday, I had barely gotten out of my driveway and he showed up behind me, purplish crescents under his eyes, a slouch in his normally perfect posture. “Addy, please,” he’d begged. “Just talk to me. Please.”

I continued ignoring him. I wished I could have told him that this was the last thing I wanted. I wished I could have told him to cover me with a blanket of his arms and never let go. To smother me with his body heat and melt the ice in my veins. But I didn’t. Because I knew what I was doing by trying to push him away. I knew this was going to be better for him. He might have thought that he loved me and can’t live without me, but he would change his mind eventually. He would have to.

The only thing is; he’s so insistent.

I walk out my front door, closing it behind me and there he is, strutting toward me. I close my eyes and sigh, then start walking. Damien remains a few paces behind me and shouts, “I promise you, Adelaide, you can’t shut me out forever! I’ll be here every day until you talk to me!”

Until you leave for college, next month, I think.

I can’t help but wonder what we’d be like if things were different. What if I came from a normal, respected family? What if my mother would have stayed and raised me the way a young lady should be raised? What if my father wasn’t abusive and known to everyone as the town drunk? Would our relationship be accepted then? Would we be able to be that happy and loving couple I’d always dreamed we’d be?

The possibility of that scenario plunges into my heart like Juliet stabbing herself with a dagger at the thought of living her life without her Romeo. A throbbing ache surges through me and I decide that that image is too painful to think about it. This isn’t Shakespeare. This is my life. And Damien and I are not a pair of star-crossed lovers.

It’s cloudy today. There is no sun in the sky and the wind is heavy. The normal summer humidity is non-existent. A gust of wind sweeps over my skin and sends a chill down my spine. I shiver and pump warmth back into my arms, cursing myself for not checking the weather before I came outside for my walk.

Damien still lingers behind me. I can hear the scrape in his steps as his shoes scuff against the gravel and the concern in his voice when he says, “Are you cold?”

I don’t answer him. I pick up my feet and walk faster.

He catches up to me and falls in line with my steps. Looking away, I gaze out into a field of long grass, my eyes on the green and yellow blades as they twirl around and whip back and forth in the wind. Damien lets out a frustrated sigh. “You have to stop this. Just look at me, Addy.”

I don’t.

“When are you going to stop being so damn stubborn?”

My gaze shifts to the ground and I kick a pebble down the road, thinking; when will you get the picture and leave me alone. I know that the thought is a fantasy. It’s been weeks and he hasn’t let up yet. Am I that worth it? Is a

simple girl with a slumdog family worth all of this effort? His mother doesn’t think so.

I’ve only met Marlena Allen one time and meeting that woman once was plenty. Damien doesn’t seem like he could be his mother’s child because he’s so different and she’s so typical. By typical, I mean for a wealthy woman. Since meeting her I’ve learned that wealthy people have a certain agenda on what they want their children to do with their lives, and according to Marlena Allen I don’t fit into Damien’s agenda or more like her and his father’s agenda for him.

At the beginning of the summer Damien had invited me over their house for dinner. Daddy had managed to pass out really early for the night, so I put on the nicest dress I owned and crawled out my window with an anxious, excited feeling swirling through me. I was actually going to meet Damien’s family. And for some reason I thought that they would be just like him.

I was wrong.

Well, not completely wrong. I instantly liked Damien’s father, Lucas. He was kind, had friendly blue eyes just like Damien, and was welcoming. He gripped my hand and shook it, “It’s great to finally meet you, Adelaide. Damien speaks very highly of you,” he’d said greeting me with a smile.

But not Marlena.

She was frigid, a thick layer of ice in her emerald eyes, a flush on her peach cheeks, a straight line on her full lips. “Hello, Adelaide,” she’d said coolly. Timidly I shook her hand while she gave me a stare down that made all the hairs on my arms stand up. Her handshake was firmer than Damien’s father’s and I knew by the tightness in her grip and the icy glare in her eyes that she hated me.

After dinner she confirmed that theory when she plastered a fake smile on her luscious pink lips and crooked her arm through mine. “Let’s go for a walk, dear, shall we?” Her voice oozed sarcasm and plastic kindness and I glanced over my shoulder to Damien for help. I was hoping that he’d notice the panicked look in my eyes and save me from his mother’s snakelike grasp and venomous tone. But he didn’t see me. He was heavily engaged in a conversation with his father and brother. That gave Marlena just enough time to yank me through the back door and away from any hope I had for Damien being able to come to my rescue.

The moment we stepped outside she pulled her arm away, strolled away from the door—and away from hearing range—heading toward the lake behind their home. Her back was to me and as I approached warily, she beckoned me closer with a flit of her wrist. I knew she must have been the one who came from old money just by that gesture. I might be naïve and sheltered, but I remember seeing people like Marlena in the department stores the few times Daddy took me shopping. They held their noses high in the air, looking down on the employees of the store just because they worked as sales associates. Not only did I find that insulting, but disgusting as well.

I guessed I’d never truly understand the differences in the social hierarchy. Some people had to work and some people had everything handed to them because of who their parents were, their grandparents were and so on and so forth. Personally, I would have rather worked to get where I needed to be in life.

I stepped up next to Marlena and followed her gaze to a group of swans, gliding across the calm murky waters of the lake. My eyes centered on a swan right in the middle as the beautiful creature stretched its white wings, and dipped its head beneath the light brown water. I knew Marlena was studying me. I could feel her cold glare as it broke through my skin and turned all the blood in my veins to frost. “I think you know why I asked you to come out here,” she said, a matter of fact tone to her voice.

“Somewhat,” I replied, weakly.