She is going to die at my own hands before Frederick Grimhill comes to collect his new possession.
While the memory seems distant in my mind, as if it happened far away in another world and time, it still hurts all the same. It’s a memory forever imprinted in my mind, a shred of evidence that you cannot trust anyone, not even your own flesh and bone. They will only betray you, leave you like a stray cat, and beat you down until nothing remains but the ashes of your skin.
Every time I try to remember anything that happened before I ended up here at Dankworth Institute, I am hit with a massive headache that feels like a bomb inside my head, ready to explode my brain into mushing pieces. Yet, I remember a memory that took place many years ago. Why is that?
Tick tock, tick tock.
A deep sigh snaps me out of my reverie as its reverberations echo in my ears, and I am again brought to reality. Shit, how long did I zone out?
A fleeting moment passes before I remember I’m not alone in the room, and I gaze at the woman with her short hair and rounded glasses. They sit askew on her nose, making her eyes look funny, but I am not sure she notices that, as she’s too focused on me.
Doesn’t she have better things to do than stare at me like a creep?
I’m seated in the same chair I was in four days ago–the day I ran out of here–and the comfortable fur material feels soft against my fingertips. She sits angled in front of me, behind the large desk that occupies most of the room.
Who even needs that much space?
Recalling the experience, I felt as though I was being chased by an enormous creature with sharp teeth and claws, prompting me to run out of the room as quickly as possible. I notice the shadows are becoming more frequent, a sensation I haven’t experienced for months, which makes me question why I’m slipping back now. These nightmares have been daily occurrences for the past few years, always there in my waking state to torment me. On the day I arrived at Grimhill Manor, they all vanished, and I was engulfed in a new darkness that filled my mind and left me completely terrified. I hope this is a mere passing phase and that they won’t return anytime soon.
“You’ve had a few days to rest and get familiar with the institute. This means you get more freedom, but freedom comes with responsibility. If you break any rules, freedom is reduced.”
Alicia Lewis clicks with her pen in between sentences, and the sound resembles what a clock makes. As she drifts into her thoughts, her pen taps the desk in a rhythmic pattern, producing a repetitive sound. It’s annoying.
“Understood?” She gives me a piercing stare, as if silently daring me to respond to her words.
Although I usually would have been furious and flung an armchair at her for not telling me the truth, I can barely muster up the energy to do anything today. It has been one week since I was brought to this place, and something has changed inside me. I’m struggling to make it through the day, and the effort barely seems worthwhile.
“Yes, madam,” I mumble under my breath, picking at my cuticles.
It’s rather satisfying, and I welcome the pain it causes me with open arms and a warm embrace. Pain gives me control, and control makes me not lose my mind.
I am Naya. I am an existing human being who is perfectly capable of breathing. I have not always been like this.
I become lost in my thoughts, repeating the sentences in my head and feeling my worries dissipate as I concentrate on my ability to control my focus. She keeps clicking the pen, and it makes me want to grab it from her hand and shove it down her throat.
Bad idea, Naya.
When I take a deep breath, I can almost hear the negative thoughts leave my mind, and I am left with a sense of clarity.
“Breakfast is served every morning from seven to nine, and group activities are from nine to one in the afternoon. After that, you have sessions with me every other day from one to two in the afternoon, meeting with Mr. Ricci, and then you have free time before dinner. Understood?”
I don’t know what she’s saying, so I just nod. Her explanation is so convoluted it feels like solving an elaborate math equation. My thoughts are spinning in my head, making her words blur until I cannot hear a single thing. Alicia hands me a piece of paper, and on it, several squares are forming a schedule one after the other, with room numbers and what is happening lined up like a schedule. It feels somewhat familiar, and I vaguely remember having a schedule like this when I was a child. I exhale with relief, knowing I no longer need to commit all that to memory. I cautiously take the printed-out schedule for the week into my hands, trembling slightly.
A few seconds later, I’m out of her sight, glad I don’t have a guard following me. I’m safe as long as I behave appropriately.
At least I hope so.
Several other people pass me as I make my way, yet all I can focus on is the strange aroma of bleach emanating from some of the bedsheets in the rooms. Even more distinct is the sweet yet familiar smell of dark florals and earthy scents that fills my nostrils. As I inhale the distinctive aroma, I see the tattooed guy further ahead with Aubrey, the ash-blonde girl who seems to have an excessive amount of envy, and then the man who sat beside Aubrey a few days ago. Seeing them immediately makes me turn on my heel and swing off to another wing where the light isn’t as bright, and the smell of bleach is all too strong.
“Hey!” I hear the familiar voice of Aubrey, making me hurry, not in the mood to face them today.
My mood is way too bad, and my patience is running low with zero fucks to give. I don’t need anyone prying into my business, not when my only goal is to escape, and no one will be able to prevent that from happening.
I pass several doors with numbers on them, patients’ bedrooms, I assume, and hear footsteps echo behind me in a quick rush.
Someone is running after me, and even though I know who it is–or can guess who it is–panic spreads inside me, and horrible memories spill over the edge. I hurry down the corridor toward the receptionist as flashbacks from the night Frederick Grimhill hunted me down come rushing back. My heart pounds inside my chest, anxiety rising, the footsteps growing closer until I am afraid they are catching up to me. I turn the corner down to wing three and ignore the glares the guards give me before entering my room. Just as I lock the door, a knock is heard outside.
Not just one knock, but many loud knocks, making me groan as I pant out my frustration.
