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I've seen the way he treats the patients who don't cooperate with him. He's loud, brutal, and cruel. He gets physical by slapping, pushing, and restraining. Sometimes he takes unruly patients to the basement where he performs procedures on them. He reminds me of Daddy. So I told myself early on that I wouldn't give Dr. Morrow a reason to be loud, brutal, and cruel with me.

I stand in the doorway of his wide office with yellow walls, hardwood floors, and a plaid loveseat in the far corner. Dr. Morrow's salt and pepper hair is the only part of him I can see from where I'm standing, but I can tell he's absorbed in paperwork. “Come in, Adelaide,” he beckons with a hand gesture.

Timidly, I take a few small steps into the office then scurry over to the loveseat. I lie back, positioning my head on the head rest and wait for Dr. Morrow to finish up. My hospital gown rides up my thighs, almost to my pubic region and I tug on it frantically until it's at a reasonable level. Then I hear a voice. “I don't like this guy.” Damien.

I don't look in his direction, but I whisper, “Go away!”

Damien shakes his head and sits down on the floor. “I'm not going anywhere. I don't trust this guy.” Damien cocks his head in Dr. Morrow's direction. “He should be a prison warden not a doctor. Doctors are supposed to help people.”

“He is helping!” I snap and raise my voice.

Dr. Morrow lifts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Did you say something, Adelaide?”

I quickly shake my head as Dr. Morrow shuffles a stack of papers on his desk and folds his hands in front of him. He shifts and leans back in his chair, his eyes dead-locked on me. “All right then. Let's get started.”

I nod.

“How have you been feeling, Adelaide?” Dr. Morrow's voice is deep and brusque and there isn't one ounce of concern in it.

“I'm starting to feel better,” I tell him. “I'm not having as many night terrors and the voices I used to hear are starting to fade.”

Damien snorts and I still refrain from looking in his direction.

“Good,” says Dr. Morrow. He sits up and picks up a notepad. “Tell me about your father.”

“My father?” I question. “What about him?” I like to think that he died. Or never existed at all for that matter.

Dr. Morrow grips a pen, narrows his eyes, and exhales. “Has he tried to contact you at all?”

“No.” I hope the doctor can sense the relief in my tone.

“Does that bother you?”

“No.”

I am glad Daddy refrains from contacting me. But even if I wanted him to, deep down inside of me I know he wouldn't. Deep down inside I know that he probably hates me more now than he did before. Because in his head, just like when he used to beat me, everything that happened to him is my fault.

I testified against him and from the look in his face during his trial, I knew that that would be the last time I ever saw him. A small part of me was elated and at the same time I was terrified. It was difficult to look at the man who'd inflicted so much pain into my life. It was difficult to look at the man who fathered me and not see an ounce of love for me in his eyes. But I knew I had to go through with it. There had to be justice for what he'd done to Mommy and Damien. What stood out to me the most about that day were two things; Damien’s' parents who sat in the back of the courtroom and never once looked at me while I was on the stand. Then Daddy and the way he looked at me. I remember the way he scowled at me. I remember the way he drug his finger across his neck, eyes wide with fury, insinuating the obscene gesture was for me

. I am glad Daddy is locked up for life. I hope I never see or hear from him ever again.

~ ~ ~

After my session with Dr. Morrow concludes, I walk down the hall with Damien at my side. I still won't look in his direction, but I know he's there. I can feel it because suddenly the whole temperature in the hall drops a level or two. Finally he says, “How long are you going to let this go on, Addy?”

I stare blankly straight ahead. “Let what go on?”

“How long are you going to continue avoiding me?”

Until you get the hint and move on to the after-life. “I don't know.” I'm surprised by my actions toward him, really and truly. In the past, I possessed no strength when it came to Damien. He could persuade me to do almost anything. Except maybe jump off a bridge or something. I know I submitted to his every whim in the past, but that was because I loved him so much. Sometimes the love I have for him suffocates me even now. Before I convinced myself that it was okay to not breathe because living without him would be like living in a world without air anyway.

But now...

I see things differently.

I'm thankful every day that I met Damien. That he whisked me away is his convertible to a world of possibilities. A world where I wasn't just the daughter of the town drunk. A world where I wasn't just a girl with a miserable life. We loved each other. We had hope. Now we have nothing.

Because Damien is dead.


Tags: Lauren Hammond Asylum Romance