Beautiful Nightmares (The Asylum Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page A

weekly appointments are pointless.
     
    Useless.
     
    Dull.
     
    Not educational.
     
    I can’t remember my past. And the parts I do remember only bring on memories that are painful, destructive, heartbreaking, and miserable. I think of Damien in these moments. I think of the way I held him while he took his last breaths. The way I felt the warmth slowly pour out of his skin as my fingers skimmed across his cheek.
     
    How I gazed into his sapphire eyes with will and determination in my own, urging him in a silent way to fight for his life.
     
    But it was too much.
     
    It was too late.
     
    And I had to realize that guns have more power that love, hope, or prayer ever will.
     
    The thought of this always saddens me to the point where tears well up in my eyes and I have to raise my chin and blink them back to keep them from spilling onto my cheeks. I have moments where I have to tense up because if I don’t, I know that I’ll collapse into an emotional heap onto the floor and sob and shake and sob and shake until my limbs are like putty and my tear-ducts are all dried out.
     
    I snap to attention when the orderlies on each side of me come to an abrupt halt. Lifting my head, I stare straight-forward as they escort me through the double doors of my doctor’s office. The walls are white and bare. There’s no clutter on the desk. No pictures.
     
    Just four plain white walls that remind me of the walls in my cell.
     
    Two chairs with black cushioned seats.
     
    A large rectangular cherry colored desk.
     
    And a chair with wheels behind it.
     
    I’m shoved into one the black cushioned chairs and I gawk up at the orderly to my left when he says, “Wait here.”
     
    My eyes scour over him and then I look at the orderly to my right. He’s staring straight ahead with a sour look on his pudgy face. These two are my usual escorts anytime I have to come here. They never speak. They’re like robots and it’s almost if their creator opened them up and wired them with purpose so they wouldn’t.
     
    Don’t talk to the nut jobs.
     
    You can’t.
     
    You mustn’t.
     
    If you do it’s a crime…
     
    And I’m sure they’ve been told they’d be penalized if they do.
     
    My eyes drop to the floor when the orderlies turn to leave and the sound of their plodding footsteps against the hardwood floor throbs in my ears. It’s right before they get out the door that I hear one of them mumble, “God help that one.” And at that moment, I think about jumping up from my chair, racing toward him, tackling him, and showing him what the real meaning of crazy is all about.
     
    But I don’t.
     
    I remain seated and lift my head, my eyes drilling into the plain white walls. I think to myself; what a simple minded asshole.
     
    But they’re not the only ones that do it….
     
    They are not the only staff members that talk about the patients in a derogatory way.
     
    They say, we’re all, nut…nut…nuts!
     
    Just tie em down and feed em pills!
     
    The funny thing is that they think we don’t hear them.
     
    We do.
     
    I do.
     
    What I’d really like to say to them is; please don’t judge me unless you know what it’s like to walk a mile in my shoes.
     
    And I’ve had a hard life.
     
    And I’ve walked a lot of miles.
     
    Sometimes when I hear a crazy jab I think about asking the staff member if they have any regard for other people’s feelings? Then I talk myself out of it because deep, down inside I already know the answer.
     
    They don’t.
     
    Wrangling patients into their cells every day is paycheck for them. Caring about them isn’t an added bonus.
     
    My thoughts are interrupted when I hear heels clicking against the wood and I peer over my shoulder at my doctor. Long, tan legs. Black stilettos and a matching tee length black dress, covered by a white lab coat. A shoulder length coal black bob that curls under at her neckline.
    Vivian Swell.
     
    Dr. Vivian Swell.
     
    The name Vivian Swell reminds me