“I am on your side.” He hops off the desk and crouches down in front of me, lacing his fingers through mine. Part of me wants to yank my hands out of his grasp, slap him across the face, and tell him to get to it then. Tell him to bring on the restraints and the cotton and get the fucking torture over with. But there’s a much, much bigger part of me that likes the way his touch feels. I like the way his thumbs feel as they brush against my skin. “You know I’m against those medieval methods of treatment. I don’t feel that they work as effectively as mine, which is why I really, really need you to cooperate.” He lifts one hand away from mine, gazes deeply into my eyes, and brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. “Please, Addy.”
I’ve never understood why he’s had this effect on me. Why I think about him in an intimate way. Why I like hearing the sound of his deep voice. Feeling his flesh against mine. And have wild, erotic fantasies about him.
He reminds me of Damien in that way.
“Fine,” I say in defeat. “But I’m not sure if you’ll get anything from it.”
He smiles, straightening up, and places a finger right next to the needle on the metronome. “I beg to differ, Addy. I think I’ll get a lot from it. You just have to think back, open up your mind, and let me in.”
It’s terrifying in my mind and I’d told myself a long time ago, I don’t know why I or anyone else for that matter would want to go in there. Go back there. There’s nothing but pain in my past, a pain I don’t want to relive.
My mouth forms an o . I want to say something, but I forget what that something is. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the moment I open my mouth, Dr. Watson’s forefinger pushes against the metal needle on the metronome and the needle starts swaying. Starts ticking.
Tick…Tick…Tick…
My eyes are instantly drawn to the metal. It’s brass and dull and the way it
moves, ever so slowly, puts me in a trance-like state. I am calm. Relaxed. I could sleep. My eyelids start fluttering. Every few seconds I shake my head and open my eyes to try and fight off the effect the instrument has on me.
“Relax, Adelaide.” Dr. Watson’s voice is mellow—soothing—like a lullaby. “Open your mind to me.”
Open your mind to me. I hear this inside my head over and over again. But then soon the ticking becomes louder. The movement of the needle is too calming. I think Dr. Watson is saying something else, but I can’t be sure because of the tick…tick…ticking . Soon all of the contents of the office blur together. My eyelids are heavy. I think I hear, “Stop fighting it.” A pause. “Just let go.”
It’s like standing in a cavern with a cliff. You’re on the edge of that cliff. You’re looking down. You see the blue-green waters in a pool at the bottom of that twenty foot drop, slapping against wet rock. In your head, you know that if you jump the water will catch you, swallow you, and once you break the surface, you’ll be able to breath. But there’s something…some tiny, nagging voice in the back of your mind that’s holding you back. Telling you not to do it. To not live for the moment. To live in fear. Be a coward.
Don’t jump. Stay where you are. Never move forward.
I think of this during the moment when my eyelids finally close and I roll my head back, allowing the lull of the metronome to pull me into a realm of ambiance and sleep. I think of this scenario because it reminds me of life. So many people live in fear. They refuse to move their life in a different direction because they let that fear consume them. Eat away at them. Pick their bones clean. So many people live their lives asking themselves what if?
What if?
What if?
So what if I was on the edge of a cliff? What if I did push that nagging voice to the side, kicked caution to the wind, and hurled myself over that cliff, freefalling, only to be caught in an exhilarating pool of refreshing water? Would I feel better just letting go?
Yes.
I know this because the only reason I’ve been holding back is because I’m terrified of the pain my memories will bring. But life is pain. Life is chaos. It’s never easy. Always a struggle.
Now I know that the only way I’m going to get over the pain in my past is to confront it, head on. And that’s the last thought I have before I let the darkness of my mind completely consume me.
Chapter 28
~BEFORE~
My new life begins tomorrow.
I’m elated. I feel a thrill. I feel a deep, resounding rush of adrenaline. I lie in my bed fidgeting, but not out of nervousness, out of excitement, because I never thought this day would come.
Daddy’s snores pound into my ears. Tomorrow there will be no more of that. I let out a soft laugh just thinking about it.
No more sneaking. No more abuse. My life will only consist of complete and utter love and happiness.
Damien lies next to me, his soft breaths filling my ears, his arm draped protectively over my bare stomach. He’s sleeping. I like watching him sleep. He’s even more beautiful when his face is completely relaxed, his hair is wild from his twisted haze of dreaming, and his muscles free of tension. Most of the time Damien worries me. He likes to be in charge. He likes to make plans. Follow schedules. And sometimes I think that’s too much for one person to handle. I ask him all the time if he’d like my help, but he always answers with, “Let me take care of it, love.”
I’ve decided that for our future, I’ll pick and choose my battles with him carefully. Damien stirs and his eyelids flutter. I slide down further in my bed, coming face to face with him. His eyes open in slits, then he groans and twists a piece of hair between his fingertips. “What time is it?”
“Two thirty.”