Unravel(19)

7—SHUT YOUR EYES


My session with Dr. Rutledge backfired. It was all my fault. I knew better than to give her a small piece of the story; she can walk away from everything I tell her, but I live with it every day.

I’m sitting on my bed. My shoulder blades graze the wall. My fingers wrap around my legs. My toes curl into the sheets. I rock back and forth, trying to breathe calmly but it comes out convulsive.

I need to sleep, but I can’t.

Light faded hours ago. The moon is barely out, but there’s enough light to cast a purple hue into my room. I see the shadow of the naked tree limbs on my floor. They sway in the sky, back and forth. I see that frozen icicle. Still solid. Still hanging on. And I try to remind myself that I can hang on too.

But my resolve slips. My eyes drift to the corner of the room. And I see the man sitting there, watching me with cold, unblinking eyes. It’s Lana’s dad. He looks like he wants to tear me apart.

I hear his voice. It’s gritty. It’s harsh. It makes my blood freeze in my veins.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asks

Sweat beads on my upper lip as I stare down at my legs.

Don’t you speak to him. Don’t you dare, I tell myself.

I look up.

He crouches down. I hear his joints pop from the movement. It sounds like thunder. It ricochets in my skull until I grip the sides of my head in pain to make it stop.

He’s the one that speaks to me. He’s the one that terrifies me. He’s the very core of my nightmares.

“You’re nothing. You know that, right? That bitch of a doctor sees through your lies. When she gives up on you, who will be with you after that?” His voice rises. “No one! No one but me!”

His words are like acid. They burn my soul. Dissolve my hope. It opens up old wounds and makes them bleed. I scream in agony. I scream at the top of my lungs to block out his voice. But he rises to my challenge and now he’s screaming too.

Fingernails dig into my scalp. I smell the metallic scent of my blood and keep pressing harder and harder.

Mary runs into my room. I keep screaming, but I watch as she looks at me and turns in a circle, looking around the room. She won’t see him. And I knew she wouldn’t. He won’t reveal himself to her.

He stops yelling. I stop yelling. His lips kick up in a grin. He holds a finger to his lips and shakes his head.

I drop my head onto my knees and start to whimper.

“Naomi,” Mary huffs. She yanks my hands away from my ears. “What’s wrong?”

She bends down with an expectant look on her face. I blink once. Twice.

“I-I need something to make me sleep,” I stutter.

Mary drops my wrists like they’re poison. “I’ve already given you your medication.”

She encourages me to lie down but I stay upright.

“It’s not working,” I say impatiently. “I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

She gently tries to lay me back down on the bed but I resist.

“Why not? I need it.” Tiny pricks of pain start to form behind my eyes the longer I stare at Mary. My hand shoots out. I hold onto her arm tightly. “I need to sleep. I need to—”

I need to forget. I need one minute of the day where I don’t feel mind-numbing terror.

She wrenches her arm free and walks backwards to the door. “Naomi, I can’t go above Dr. Rutledge’s head. She prescribes your medication and dosages.”

“That’s a f*cking joke!” I yell.

“Talk to Dr. Rutledge about it tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow!” Mary looks away and I plead. “Please, Mary.”

For a second, I see a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. Only a second.

“You’ll sleep just fine,” she says before she walks to the door. It shuts with a firm click.

Mary thinks she’s keeping me safe by shutting the door, that exhaustion will take over and I’ll go to sleep. But she just locked me inside with the devil.

I’m in hell.

I’m in hell.





After Mary leaves, I turn into the headcase she thinks I am. I pound on the door. I kick. I shout. I go to my desk and pick up the chair and throw it at the door.

And the whole time he watches me in the corner with a knowing smile. He picks up on my fear. That’s what attracts him. I’m giving him everything he wants: control and power. Every time I whimper, or lurch back in fear, he feeds off of it. His body becomes stronger, his voice becomes louder and this mental hold he has on me becomes painful. Gut wrenching, drop to the ground in agony painful.

If I had more strength in me I would do the controlling. I would tell him to stay the hell away from me. I would tell him that he doesn’t scare me.

I know that will never happen.

My fingers curve around the edges of the desk. The door slams open. I look up and watch Mary’s reflection in the window. She turns on the light and my eyes squint, trying to adjust. My gaze moves to the figure still in the corner, still watching. Two nurses follow Mary into the room. They try to hold me down. Every muscle in my body strains against the hands holding me down on the bed. I bend and contort my body in every angle. I bite the male nurse’s forearm for holding my shoulders against the mattress. I kick at the female holding my legs down. I don’t want them touching me.