White Walls (Asylum 2)

The judge leaves his chambers and every person in the courtroom rises to their feet. Daddy's eyes are still on me. They cut through my skin and all the hair on my arms stand up.

I exhale and throw my shoulders back.

I won't let him intimidate me.

For once I want him to know what it feels like to be treated the way he treated me all of these years. I want justice for what he's done and I'm thankful that he's going to g

et what's coming to him. And because I'm nothing like him, because I'm not full of hatred, I pray that when the judge reads the verdict that God has mercy on his miserable soul.

Chapter One

My cell is a hot box.

It is filled with a barrier of smoke so thick that I can’t see past it. “Help!” I shriek, twisting beneath the restraints of my straightjacket. “Help!”

Marjorie came in earlier and fastened me into the straightjacket. She told me I’d be safer that way.

Fuck Marjorie.

Fuck this straightjacket.

Why?

Because it’s going to be the death of me.

Every time I yell, I suck more of the vicious, gray smog into my lungs. I can feel it burn as it travels down my throat. I can feel the smoke cover and char my lungs, poisoning me with every passing second. I should be holding my breath and trying not to inhale. But I can’t. I am desperate. The fire bell has been tolling for the last thirty minutes and no one has come to rescue me.

I shriek again, this time louder, trying as hard as I can to punch through the fabric of my straightjacket. Tears have welled in my eyes from the smoke, panic is rising in my chest, and I realize it’s no use. The thick fabric on the straightjacket is like burlap. There’s no way out of it.

The sad reality hits me.

I'm going to die in this room with white padded walls. I'm going to die, stuffed into a straightjacket like meat and rice into a pepper.

And there's not a damn thing I can do to prevent it from happening.

My heart beats with a vengeance.

My lungs clench.

I place my back flat against the metal door to my cell. More smoke flits in from the crack beneath the door and I listen to the panicked screams as they filter in from the hall. Now is one of the times where I wish I'd see Damien, but sadly the illusion of him never comes.

I give up on holding my breath, eager to get this over with and start inhaling the musty gray smog that's taken up my entire room. It stings my throat, brings more tears to my eyes, and I cough as it snakes its way through my lungs. Part of me wishes I could speed up the process of dying. It's taking longer than I thought it would.

Lying back on the floor, I try to make out the ceiling, but I can't see anything. The smoke in my room reminds me of the four white, padded walls of my cell. It's a barrier, I can't escape. And just when I think I'm about to succumb to a miserable death, the smoke begins to evaporate. I watch it swirl, hang down then slowly exit through my open door. I roll over, elated and weak from all the inhalation and I see Aurora with a mischievous smirk sprawled across her freckled lips.

“Well, why are you lying there?” she snaps. “Get up! This is our chance!” I roll onto my stomach and she notices the straightjacket. She moves swiftly into action undoing the straps and buckles. Finally she yanks the cream contraption off of me and chucks it to the side. Then she helps me to my feet. “Come on! We don't have much time!”

I'm on my feet, using one of the padded walls as a crutch and I stumble after Aurora down the empty hall. Everyone must be outside all ready.

Aurora moves quickly, snatching a knapsack from the floor and takes my hand. She pulls me down the darkened hallway, making a quick left at the fork between the rec room and infirmary. Smoke is suspended against the ceiling and I can feel the heat from the fire even though it's somewhere behind us. I can still hear it snapping and hissing as it rips through the rooms and causes devastating damage. Hunks of plasters fall behind us and crash into the wood floor. We need to get out of here and fast.

“Where are we going?” I shout. I don't know why I bother asking I know where we're going.

“The basement!”

Of course. We mapped this plan out weeks ago. We sat in the rec room during free time, and I’d said to Aurora in a voice barely above a whisper, “I’m going to try. I’m going to try and escape.”

She quirked me a devious grin and replied in a sing-song voice. “Not without me, you’re not.” She set down the red crayon she was coloring with at the time and went on. “And I know just the kind of diversion we’ll need to get us going.”