Asylum (Touched by the Fae 1)

“Anything.”

“If you see Nine again, listen to everything he says. Remember it. Write it down if you have to. I’ll get you some paper to keep by your bed, make sure the techs know it’s approved. You’re getting close, Riley, and you’re running out of time. It’s important that we get this straightened out. Keep notes and then come see me as soon as you can. I’ll help you make sense of it all.”

I nod. That’s something I can do. I just hope that, once I start taking my blue pill again, I won’t have to.

10

I decide to chance eating dinner with the rest of the group tonight. If I get stuck with another nurse watching me like a hawk while I choke down dried-out chicken and watery jello for another night, they might actually have to restrain me this time.

I think Amy feels sorry for me. She hangs out past six when her shift is over, talking with Kelsey, one of the nighttime techs who takes over for the girls when Amy and Penelope are off. I don’t know what she says, but I’m not rushed to my room when they lead us to the common room to eat, so that’s something.

Dinner is beef stew with biscuits on the side. Comfort food. It tastes even better knowing that I’m eating it out in the open instead of in my room.

And it’s not like I missed spending time with the other guys in my group. I didn’t. Most of them are still watching me closely, waiting for me to pull a trick out of my gloves or something. I’ll be the talk of the ward until someone else is more interesting than me. Lovely.

It’s better than going back to my room early, though. A lump forms in my throat every time I think of being locked inside, with its corner and the too-dark shadows that linger there.

Dr. Gillespie promised he’d fix my dose. I have to believe that it’s going to work because, if I don’t, it’s way too easy to fall into old habits. Part of me wants to believe that Nine’s back—even if he’s returned with dire warnings that I’m willfully ignoring—while the rest of me just wants the fae to go away for once and for all.

Could I give up Nine to be sure that I never have to deal with the golden fae again?

In a heartbeat.

My reaction to his sudden reappearance last night was too weird. It’s one thing to have an affection for the Shadow Man who helped me through my lost and lonely childhood. And, sure, you could say that I felt some sort of affection for him when I saw him again. Affection and a super strong attraction that scares me almost more than the idea that Rys is real, he’s gunning for me, and I can’t escape.

Dance with me.

Stay with me.

I’ll always come for you.

I cough, choking on a lump of carrot that goes down wrong. Tears well in my eyes as I swallow roughly before taking in great, big gulps of air.

Yeah. Almost.

I see Kelsey start toward me, then pause when I get myself under control. No one tries to slap me on my back or make sure that I’m okay. Smart. Who knows how I’d react if they touched me, even if they’re trying to stop me from choking?

My throat burns. I take a couple of sips of water. It helps.

I know I’m dragging my heels, taking forever to eat my meal. I have this feeling deep inside that I shouldn’t go back to my room. Something’s coming. Something’s going to happen. It’s a hunch. A twisted premonition.

Jeez, I really hope my blue pill does what it’s supposed to tonight.

The table begins to empty around me. I wonder if I could ask one of the techs if there are any extra biscuits. For the first time today, my stomach is settled. I’ve been feeling queasy ever since I woke up following the sedation. The comfort food is helping. I’d eat more if I could.

As if she can sense my hunger, Carolina rises from her seat. She picks up her bowl of stew, her biscuit—both obviously untouched—and moves around the table. That catches my attention. The garbage is on the other side of the room. Why is she coming this way?

She’s wearing this crooked, hopeful little half smile on her too-thin face. Her dark eyes seem more sunken in than they usually do, purple bruises underlining them. She glances at me, then her gaze darts away. Like she’s looking for someone—or she’s desperate to avoid being caught doing something she’s not supposed to.

Carolina’s twitchy, too. Nibbling on a bottom lip that’s so dry and cracked, it’s gotta hurt like hell, she stops when she’s about a foot away from me. She jumps in place when I look up at her. Her stew sloshes against the side of her bowl, splashing on the table, my arm, and the side of my glove.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” I tell her.

“Let me clean it up.”

With shaky hands, she sets the bowl down, the biscuit right next to it; the biscuit is partially wrapped in a napkin. Carolina grabs another napkin, eager to clean up her mess.