And yet another "book" I never finished.
Prologue
Screaming, all I can hear is the incessant
screaming. Why are they in so much pain? How can I stop it? The agony is
driving me over the edge. Millions of them lie in waste, their blood-stained
bodies strewn across the battlefield. Who would do such a thing, and why? A
piercing shriek unlike anything I’ve ever heard before rips through my heart
and scours my ears. The pain of the unknown cry tears through my body, bringing
me to my knees as I claw blindly at my ears.
“Wake up, Rylee!” the anonymous voice
yells. It sounds so close . . . like it is right in my head.
“Who are you, what do you want from
me?” I cry out.
Without missing a beat, it screams
back at me, “WAKE UP!” The pain is unbearable. It feels as if the scream is
stabbing through every pore of my body. I drop to the ground the rest of the
way, unable to hold the weight of my body any longer. My surroundings grow dim,
seemingly closing in on me. The world begins to spin as the darkness gets
closer and closer until . . . nothing.
Chapter One
I can’t sleep. It is cold here, dark. I don’t belong here. This bed . . . this room . . . it isn’t mine, not really anyway. A cruel twist of fate, that’s why
I’m here. I stare at the ceiling, sleep continuing to evade me. Sighing, I lift
myself up off the bed and walk toward the window. The concrete floor beneath my
bare feet is as cold as the rest of this place. The bars staring back at me
from the window only serve to make things worse.
Looking out like
this, from inside my cage, actually made Southern California look beautiful. The
coastal breeze drifts in through my open window, sending tufts of long blonde
hair flying around my face. I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet, salty
scent that lingers in the air. I can envision myself walking toward the ocean,
the sand sinking around my feet and between my toes; the ice cold waves lap at
my feet and ankles.
Sometimes, I
can’t help but wonder if I’m really as crazy as they say I am. I mean, I must
be crazy if I’m in here, right? My dreams haunt me; shadows follow me. They say
I have a type of schizophrenia, that I’m sick; I don’t feel sick. I just want
one person to tell me I’m fine, but all I have are doctors trying to clog my
mind with their pills and medications. No family, no friends; I am alone. I
continue to stare out the confinement of my prison, searching for even one
person to save me from myself. My eyes drift shut and I am answered with
silence . . . at first.
“You crazy?”
asked a deep voice that could only belong to a man. My eyes flick open. I
glance around, searching for the source of the voice. A glowing red light
pierces through the shadows of the night, followed shortly by an exhale.
“Excuse me?” I
ask the mysterious man.
“You’re in a
mental institution. Are you crazy of something?” he asks.
“No . . . I’m
not crazy . . . at least I don’t think so. I don’t know. How does anyone know
if they’re crazy?” I reply.
He takes another
drag from his cigarette and seems to consider for a moment before answering,
“I’m not sure. Tell me what you’re in there for and I’ll let you know.”
“The reason I’m
in here is none of your business.”
“Fine, don’t
tell me. I’ll just check your records and find out for myself,” he says.
“Wha—”
He stands up,
putting out his cigarette, and steps into the light. He’s wearing the same
crisp white scrubs everyone that works there wears; only somehow, he makes it
look dangerous. I sink back into the darkness of my room, momentarily shocked.
I’d been here six months, and had survived by staying under the radar and out
of everyone’s way. No one knew my name without looking at my chart and I liked
it that way. Fear lanced through my gut. What would he do? What would happen?
I creep back
over to the window to peek out. My gaze flicks left and right across the
darkness, seeking the man in white. Gone; he has left. The bud of his still-lit
cigarette lay untouched in the dirt beneath my window. I sigh, from both
confusion and relief, the image of his emerald green eyes and raven black hair
still fresh in my mind. I haven’t spoken a single word to anyone in the six
months I’ve been present at this facility. Why now? Why him? Lying back down in
my bed, I try to fight the sleep I know is inevitable. The last thing I see as
my eyes drift shut is the memory of those beautiful green eyes . . .
* * *
I awake with a
start as the lock on the door shifts and clicks. I drag myself out of bed and
rub my aching temples. I had been asleep for an hour, at most. Memories of last
night came rolling back to me. Was it real? Or was it just another dream? I
hate sleeping; it makes it difficult to tell dreams from reality. Feeling like
a caged animal, I slip on my shoes and pad out the door. The stench of
disinfectant and blood lingers in the hallway. This place always smells a bit
like blood, it disgusts me. As I walk down the long, white hallway toward the
gardens, nurses carrying linens pass me without really seeing me. I exhale in
relief; I hate when people look at me, it makes me feel like they can see right
through me.
I smile as I
reach for the door handle that would take me into the gardens. My smile drops;
the door is locked. This door is never locked during daylight hours. I turn
around in confusion and face complete darkness. My heart rate picks up,
something is wrong here. I try to blink away the darkness with no success. I
hear a low growl originate from down the hall in front of me. I squeeze my eyes
shut as a single tear rolls down my cheek. The darkness is coming for me.
Chapter Two
When I open my
eyes, I’m back in my bed, locked safely inside my room. Breathing a sigh of
relief, I sink further into the confines of my mattress. The loud clang of the
door unlocking startles me once again and my hearts picks up speed as I pray
this time I am not dreaming. I get up and open the door carefully, peeking out
into the hallway. All seems normal, with patients and nurses wandering
aimlessly. I gingerly step out into the hall and make my way to the door once
again, glancing around nervously the whole time.
With shaking
hands, I reach for the door handle and push as hard as I can. To my relief, the
door opens and sunlight floods the hallway, temporarily blinding me with its
brightness. I blink a few times to give my eyes time to adjust to the light
before making my way to my favorite tree in the garden and plopping down.
Resting my back against the trunk of the tree, I close my eyes and inhale the
relaxing aroma of the gardenias planted a few feet away.
“You always look
so lost. Why is that?” The familiar voice jostles me from my relaxing post. I
stare up into those piercing green eyes and consider my answer.
“I don’t know,
maybe because I kind of am, in a way.”
He cocks his
head, “What do you mean?”
“I guess I just
don’t feel like I really belong here. I know everyone says that . . . claims they’re
not crazy or whatever . . . but I don’t know, aside from the nightmare, I feel
fine.”
“Maybe you are
fine, then. Maybe you’re just not where you’re supposed to be.”
“What do you
mean I’m not where I’m supposed to be?” I asked, confused.
He shrugs, “See
you around, crazy girl.” I watch him saunter back into the building, his
confident stride never faltering. Who the hell is he? And why is he suddenly so
interested in me? I don’t recall ever seeing him at the hospital until last
night, maybe he just started working here. I shrug it off and push the sexy
stranger out of my mind for a moment as the growling in my stomach takes over
all thoughts.
Listening to the
incessant growling noises coming from my stomach, I haul myself off the ground
and head to the cafeteria for breakfast. The closer I get, the stronger the
smell of powdered eggs and sausage becomes, churning my stomach. This place’s
eggs and sausage are the worst. Seriously, the first time I ate them I had to
run to the restroom before I got sick. Once I reach the cafeteria, I line up
with the other patients to collect my food; however, being the smart veteran
patient I am, I opt for Cheerios instead.
Walking past the
tables full of patients, I take my seat at my usual place, alone at a small
table in the corner. It’s strange how accustomed I’ve become to how things work
around here. I’ve learned to ignore the orderlies staring and constantly taking
notes on me. I block out the patients when they have nervous breakdowns and
need to be sedated. I’ve learned that’s the only way to survive in a place like
this, to pretend nothing around me is happening. I was so lost in my own world
I didn’t even notice when someone sat down next to me.
“You always this
quiet, gorgeous?” the familiar stranger asks.
Startled, I jump
a little, spilling some of my cereal, “How on earth do you keep popping up like
this?”
“An excellent
question, but I asked you one first, crazy girl,” he says, flashing me a
stunning smile, complete with dimples.
Sighing, I put
my spoon back in my bowl before answering, “For your information, yes I am.
Talking just gets you in trouble.”
“Oh? Why do you
say that?” he asks.
“Because . . .
if I wouldn’t have told anyone about my dreams, I wouldn’t be in here.”
“Your dreams?”
“Yeah . . .
didn’t you read my chart?” I inquire.
He chuckles, “I
didn’t, actually. Which means I also don’t know your name . . .”
“Rylee,” I
supply, offering him my hand.
“Rylee is a
beautiful name, pretty girl. I’m Isaiah, it’s nice to meet you,” he says,
gracing me with that heart-shattering smile again before shaking my hand. I’m
momentarily dazed by the feeling of his hand in mine. I had forgotten how long
it’s been since I touched someone willingly. This feels real; his touch burns
into my palm, centering me in a way I’ve never been before. With wide eyes, I
release his hand.
“Let’s sneak out
tonight,” he says.
“What?!”
“You heard me,
pretty girl. Let’s get out of here tonight. Promise I’ll have you back in time
for tomorrow’s gourmet breakfast,” he says with a wink.
I roll my eyes,
“You can’t just sneak out of here, it’s not that easy.”
“Oh but it is,
crazy girl. I think you forget I work here,” he replies.
I laugh, “Okay
sure. Let’s just sneak out, just like that,” I say sarcastically.
“Great! I’ll see
you tonight then, Rylee,” he says and stands up before I have a chance to
respond. Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into? Surely he isn’t serious. No
one would risk their job to sneak a patient out of here for one night,
especially a patient he just met. Finishing my cereal, I get up and throw my
trash away.
* * *
The rest of the
day goes by in a blur; the anticipation of what may or may not come tonight was
killing me. I was mentally absent in my meetings and group activities, and was
glad when it was finally time to retire to our rooms. Undoubtedly, the nurses
and orderlies noticed my strange behavior. They noticed every time we did
something “out of the norm.” Like everything we did was usually normal . . . I
roll my eyes at the thought.
In my room I
wait . . . and wait . . . and wait. I sit on my bed, palms sweaty and fingers
fidgeting. The quiet of the night seems amplified as I sit listening intently
for any noise that might give away Isaiah’s presence. Just when I’m about to
give up, I see the familiar glow of Isaiah’s cigarette outside my window.
I walk closer to
see him better, “I’m surprised to see you. No offense, but I didn’t think you’d
come. I still don’t think you’re planning to sneak me out of here for the
night.”
“Ah, but that’s
where you’re wrong, pretty girl. Check the door to your room, it should be
unlocked,” he says with a proud grin on his face.
I turn around to
check the door as he instructed. Just as he said, the door is unlocked.
Stealing a quick glance at him first, I slip out the door and creep around to
the closest exit. This is one of those moments in horror movies that make you
cringe. The quieter I try to be, the louder everything seems to get. My
footsteps squeak on the linoleum with each step, causing me to curse under my
breath. When I finally make my way to the exit ages later, the door gives the
loudest groan I have ever heard in my life. Seriously, doesn’t anyone ever oil
these things? His green eyes pierce through my body, drawing me closer with
each breath. Feeling bold, I stop much closer to him than necessary, close
enough that if I stood on my tip-toes I could easily kiss him.
“So, hotshot,
you got me out. Now where are we going?” I ask a little breathlessly, affected
by his proximity. The subsequent grin I receive is heart stopping.
“Oh, come on
now, pretty girl. It’s a surprise! Don’t you like surprises?” he asks, his
voice laced with mischief.
“Actually, I
hate surprises, but lead the way,” I say, gesturing him with my right hand.
Taking the hand
I waved him on with, he laces his fingers through mine, sending a jolt of
awareness through my body. I still can’t get over how right it feels for him to
touch me, how real. Gently leading me by the hand, we take off down the road,
strolling casually as if he didn’t just help me sneak out of a mental health
facility. We walk in a comfortable silence, the right side of my body burning
from the heat emanating off him. After a while, I realize where he is taking
me.
“We’re going to
the beach?” I ask.
He flashes me
that sexy smile again before replying, “Yup! We’re going to the beach.”
“Why the beach?”
“Well, pretty
girl, what better way to find yourself than in the rolling turmoil of the ocean
with the waves lapping at your feet?” he answers, green eyes searing through
me, into my soul, like he can see everything.
“Who says I need
to find myself?” I ask.
My question goes
unanswered and we continue our walk to the beach. As we reach the sandy
entrance, I release Isaiah’s hand and bend over to take off my shoes. Just like
I imagined doing a thousand times from my room, I close my eyes and walk,
sinking my toes into the soft, slightly damp sand. Soon, my toes reach the ice
cold water and I open my eyes. Looking around, I search for Isaiah and find him
a few feet away. His shoes are already off and resting by mine where the sand
meets the pavement.
I watch as he
reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head. He drops it carelessly
in the sand and laces his fingers together, stretching his arms leisurely above
his head. As he continues to stretch, I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping.
He was already gorgeous, but damn . . . his body is enough to make me drop to
my knees and thank the lord for creating such a beautiful man. Seriously
though, he’s hot. He drops his hands and glances at me before unbuttoning his
jeans and letting them pool at his feet. He’s standing in nothing but a pair of
boxer briefs.
My eyes go wide,
“What the hell are you doing?!”
He chuckles, an
amused grin on his face, “Swimming. What are you doing?”
I gape at him,
unsure of what to say. He lifts an eyebrow, cocking his head at me, “Come on,
pretty girl, live a little. No one can see you and I promise I’ll be a perfect
gentleman.”
I can tell he’s
lying. His eyes roam over me, daring me to take his challenge. And oh, how can
I resist? I make a twirling motion with my finger, signaling that I want him to
turn around. He holds his ground, defying me. I motion for him to turn around
once more. His eyes sparkle with pleasure as he slowly turns around, shooting
me an arrogant grin. I roll my eyes and push my yoga pants down my hips,
letting them fall to my feet just as he did. Then, checking to make sure Isaiah
still has his back turned, I pull my top off and drop it to the sand. I flick
my gaze to the ocean, the waves rolling over each other and forming a white
froth at the crest.
Tentatively, I
take a step into the frigid ocean waters, goose bumps instantly forming on my
bare flesh. Walking out until the water is about waist deep, I suddenly feel
his eyes on me, roaming my backside. What’s worse is . . . I don’t care, I’m
shameless. I turn to face him, finding my suspicions confirmed. His gaze is on
me, devouring every inch of my body that isn’t covered by the water. I lift my
eyebrow at him and smirk, a silent question. He saunters over to me, the water
splashing around him with each step.
When he reaches me, he runs his hands
down my arms, from my shoulders to my elbows. I shiver, but not from the cold.
I’m burning from the inside out, my core smoldering from his touch.
