Asylum (Touched by the Fae 1)

“Okay, guys. It’s just about four o’clock. If you’re expecting any visitors today, they’re waiting for you in the meeting room. If you’re not, then that’s alright. You can stay with me and we’ll watch the rest of the movie.”

Ugh. My stomach drops. Visiting hour.

My least favorite hour of the whole day.

We have visiting hour daily, from four to five regular. It never changes. And since the facility’s staff doesn’t trust us to let any friends and family we might still have left into our ward, they designate an open room on the first floor for visiting hour. There are plenty of small tables and chairs set up down there so there’s at least some semblance of privacy.

Not that it means anything to me.

Louis waits in the doorway. Nearly everyone in the group gets up and forms a line in front of him. Whether they know for sure that they’re getting a visitor or they’re just hoping, the others file out of the day room.

I don’t. No point. I know there’s no one out there for me.

Not anymore.

When I first got tossed into Black Pine, the Everetts would come to visit me from time to time. They moved away from Acorn Falls after the accident and now live in a city that’s about six hours away by car. They couldn’t visit me every day, but they tried to make it once a week to show me that they weren’t giving up on me. With Madelaine gone, I was all they had left.

Of course, it didn’t last long. Once a week turned into once a month until I noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Everett started to take the trip separately. About two years into my stay, I found out they had gotten divorced. The strain of Madelaine’s death, plus my institutionalization, was just too much for them.

Before long, Mr. Everett stopped coming at all. The last time Mrs. Everett visited me, three Christmases ago, I pleaded with her to stop. It’s bad enough I’m the reason they lost their child. It kills me that I’m to blame that they lost each other, too.

Mrs. Everett is a saint. I still get an occasional letter, not to mention gifts for my birthday and Christmas, and I’m good with that.

It’s way more than I deserve.

Only two out of the twelve of us stay behind: me and Meg. That’s not so new. Meg had visitors for a while, but a few months ago she stopped going down with the techs. I don’t know why. I’ve never asked.

Amy waits until they’re all gone to pick up the remote again. “You ladies want to finish the movie?”

I want to know who killed who. “Yeah.”

Meg doesn’t say anything. Since she doesn’t shake her head no, Amy takes it as a yes. She turns the movie back on.

Out of the corner of my eye, I peek over at Meg. I don’t know her story too well. Everybody inside has their quirks and their issues. Meg? She’s mute. Everything I’ve learned about her is from the gossip that spreads from group to group, ward to ward. I heard that she was in a real bad accident with her brother and sister. She was the only survivor, but it messed her up. Physically, she’s fine. That’s why she’s here with us instead of a regular hospital. She could speak, she just doesn’t want to.

I get that.

It used to be me and Meg and Jason who stayed behind in the day room during visiting hour. He’s still not around. I vaguely wonder for the second time what’s happened to him.

But then the movie starts to get interesting again and I forget all about everything else.

Knock, knock.

I glance up from the book I’m reading. I know I heard that knock, but I wasn’t expecting it. I had only just climbed into bed after hurrying through dinner. I thought reading a book might distract me enough that, even if I start hallucinating again, I can ignore it. Besides, I’ve read this one before. It’s pretty good.

I set it down. My door’s not locked—we don’t get that luxury—but we do get to pretend that we have some choice when we’re in our individual rooms.

“Yeah?”

“We’re coming in, Thorne. Time for your nighttime meds.”

Ugh. I recognize that rasp of a voice. Duncan.

He’s early, too. Sure, it’s June, and I know that days are longer in the summer, but a quick glance past the bars on my window shows that the sun’s still out. Weird. The nurses don’t usually do the nighttime rounds until at least seven.

Oh, well. Could be that, since I turned in early, they decided to bring me my pills so they could get it out of the way. That’s fine. I’m gonna take them, too.

I sure as hell don’t want to dream tonight.