Insanity (Asylum 1)

“I got them from my mother,” I say. “A mixture of navy blue and magenta—violet.”

Damien rolls on top of me and presses his body against mine. He plants a trail of soft kisses down my neck. Sucking in a deep breath, I moan quietly. Then I throw my head back as want climbs down my thighs and desire swells low in my stomach. Every time he places a kiss somewhere on my bare skin, I feel the heat inside of me rising. “I want to make love to you,” he whispers against my lips.

“Then do it,” I tell him as my needy fingers crawl up the back of his shirt and my fingernails dig into his skin.

In one swift motion Damien pulls his shirt over his head, then moves down my body. He lifts up my skirt and kisses my inner thighs and I feel like I’m a hot air balloon that’s about to be deflated. He reaches for my underwear and his fingertips graze against my hips, bringing out goosebumps all over my skin. He slowly starts sliding my underwear down my legs and my back is arched on the ground and I’m writhing like a mad woman.

And that’s when I hear it.

The car door slamming shut, followed by, “God, damn it, Adelaide! Where the fuck are you? Is my dinner ready?”

“Oh no!” I gasp and yank my underwear back up around my waist. “I have to go!” I hop to my feet and smooth down my dress. “I’m coming, Daddy!” I shout.

I take a step and Damien grips my wrist. “Don’t go,” he pleads. “You don’t have to go.”

I yank my arm away. “I do. You don’t understand.”

Tears pool in my eyes as I run away from Damien and I suck them back because I don’t want Daddy to ask me why I’ve been crying. I also hope that Damien doesn’t get to see how Daddy acts when he’s been drinking and by the sound of his voice, I can already tell he’s had his fair share of Jose today before he came home. I don’t make it all the way because at some point during the run to Daddy I’m so out of breath and so emotional that I hit my knees and sob into my hands.

There’s too much pressure on me and I’ve hit my breaking point. My father is a drunk asshole. My boyfriend’s mother doesn’t like me. My mother abandoned me. The love of my life is leaving me at the end of the summer. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. I hunch over and grip my sides tightly to keep the sobs from vibrating in my chest. I try to breathe. I try to calm myself down, but nothing seems to be working.

Then I hear, “Girl, what the hell is the matter with you?”

My blood runs cold. Fear unfurls in my gut. The tears immediately leave my eyes. Oh no. Daddy has found me. I clear my throat and keep my head down. “Nothing Daddy.”

Daddy is a big man. At least six feet four inches tall. Thick bulky arms. A bulging beer gut. Strong manly hands. He looms over me, casting a shadow over my thin petite body. “Nothing my ass.”

Before I can react he lunges for me, grips me by the hair at my crown, and starts dragging me through the field to the house. Pain blossoms in my scalp like daggers are stabbing me repeatedly and I shriek out in agony as he drags me up each one of the porch steps. I swat at his hand, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he tightens it and I cry out harder.

At the front door, he still has me by the hair, but the tension in my scalp has lessened because I’m able to plant my feet firmly on the wooden porch. I open my eyes and turn my head to see Damien face red with fury, jaw clenched, fists balled up at his sides, as he storms toward us.

There’s panic in my eyes and worry in my heart. I wooden my eyes and shake my head. Then I mouth, “No don’t.”

Damien isn’t listening, he breaks out into a jog and I scream at the top of my lungs, “DON’T!”

Then he slows, coming to a halt and even from where I’m standing I can see the tears glistening in his eyes. It looks like there’s an internal struggle going on inside of him on whether he should listen to me or not. His lip quivers and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He starts toward us again. I shake my head and mouth, “I love you.” At the same time, Daddy releases his hand from my hair and clumps of it fall out at my feet.

With wobbly knees, I stand, feet planted firmly into the wooden porch then my eyes meet Damien’s as Daddy plants his heel into the small of my back and kicks me through the front door.

Chapter 11

~AFTER~

I wake up screaming.

Then my screams go up an octave and I start shrieking. “Don’t touch me!” I’m out of my cot and on my feet. “Don’t touch me!”

I bolt for the door and pry it open, breaking out into the hall, running toward the utility closet. Damien is there, he told me to meet him and I forgot. I’d fallen asleep and forgot. But if he’s still there, he’ll know exactly what to do to make me feel better. He’ll know exactly what to say. He always does. He always will.

More shrieking.

I have this vision of Daddy in my mind. He’s removing his belt and I’m cowering in the corner of the kitchen. “No! Daddy! No!” I shut my eyes as tight as I can. “Make him stop! Make him stop!”

Footsteps thunder behind me and muffled voices fill up the quiet hall. Someone shouts, “Where is she?”

Another voice is added to the equation, “Tell us where she is, damn it!”

Aurora replies in a full hysterical, nut job facade, “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Stop yelling at me! Stop yelling at me! ”