Insanity (Asylum 1)

~BEFORE~

Daddy had way too much of Jimmy today.

When it’s a “Jimmy” kind of day, he gets rowdy. A lot of shouting. Tossing things around. He also starts nitpicking. Moving furniture. Examining the cleanliness of household items. Thoroughly.

“Son of a bitch, Adelaide!”

I’m in my room, stretched out across my bed, re-reading Damien’s letters when I hear my name.

“Adelaide! Stupid girl! Get the fuck out here!” His loud, booming voice shakes the walls in my room. My blood runs cold and fear circulates through my nervous system when I think about having to leave my room and face him. But I know if I ignore his cries it will only make the punishment he’ll inflict on me that much worse.

“Coming Daddy!”

I’m up off my bed in a flash, hiding my letters beneath the floorboards, and out the door in record time.

There’s a dinner plate on the floor and a scowl on Daddy’s face. “What the hell took you so long?” he sneers with a rasp.

The lie flies off my tongue so quickly I’m surprised by it, “I was getting dressed.” Hopefully he doesn’t notice that I’m still wearing the same clothes he saw me in this morning.

He doesn’t.

He’s not even looking at my clothes. Then I finger my locket. It’s tucked safely beneath my high collared dress.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

He motions with his finger, his scowl deepening. “Get over here.”

With slow shaky steps, I move closer. When I don’t move fast enough, he yanks me by the arm and shoves my face into floor. He kicks the plate across the floor and it slides beneath my face. Then his loud, footsteps thunder in my ears like applause in a crowded football stadium as he walks over and stands next to me. I hear his heavy breath and a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. I’ve been through this before. I know what’s coming next.

“Is that a spot on that dish?” His voice is low, almost a whisper. There’s a deadly ring to it. See, I know when Daddy’s voice is low I should be even more afraid of him than usual because when he’s not shouting, I know he’s more sinister and evil and the beatings are worse. “Are you looking, girl?”

Girl? Not even Adelaide. I’m just a girl.

I haven’t received one loving word or praise from him since I was ten. But once, just once, I’d like him to recognize me as his daughter. I look down at the plate before me. I try to decide if I should tell him the truth; that there are no spots on this plate or if I should just agree with him. I think of Damien. He comes home for Thanksgiving break today. Then two more weeks. Two more weeks until we elope, determination in our minds, a fierce love in our hearts.

I peek up at Daddy over my shoulder. I settle on a little defiance. “I don’t see any spots.” I know that’s not the right thing to say the second he growls and clamps his massive foot down, boot with rigid soles still on, across my shoulders. “Look closer.”

My face is a centimeter away from the plate and my long eyelashes are almost touching the ceramic. My dark hair falls down and frames my heart-shaped face, spread out across the white plate like a raven’s shiny feathers. I grit my teeth. “I still can’t see anything.”

I know I should be compliant. I know I should just go along with whatever he says to save myself from a broken body and a wounded soul, but I can’t. I just can’t take it anymore. My impending freedom is too real, too close. I’m letting my thoughts about running away take over my mind and in result, I’m lashing out.

Daddy doesn’t like when I lash out.

I feel him lift his boot off my shoulder and I don’t know why I think this torture is already over because the second I get up on all fours I see Daddy’s boot coming toward me, but I don’t have enough time to move before the steel-toed tip digs into my gut. “Don’t you sass me!”

My body flies back a few feet, slamming into the bottom row of cupboards just below the kitchen sink. Pain, deep ominous pain, halts my breathing, clenching around my lungs like a tourniquet and I hunch over gasping for air. My vision blurs. A deafening quiet buzzes in my ears as I try to slink away.

Daddy sees me and wrenches a hand in my hair, gripping my long locks tightly at the scalp. “Stay here, worthless girl!” With a thrust he shoves me back up against the cupboard. The forceful blow from my back slamming against the wood fills the small square room with yellow walls and oak floors with a loud boom. Sliding my knees to my chest, my whole body vibrates with a mixture of fear, anger, and a hatred so intense I feel like a balloon, so full of helium that I’m about to pop.

I cry.

Quietly.

Out of pain or hatred, I’m not sure.

Daddy doesn’t notice.

Thank God.