Unravel(37)

His hand covered mine over the railing. With every surge he squeezed his hold around me.

He started to gain speed. Each thrust became stronger and more powerful than the last.

My toes curled. My feet lifted. High heels fell off and tumbled down the stairs.

My orgasm was right there. It brewed in my body. It formed enough power for my back to arch and my hips to lift. I felt like I was moving higher and higher until I was levitating. I was weightless. No bones. Nothing holding me to the ground.

It was peace. It was mind blowing. All too quickly though, I was falling back to Earth.

My hands dropped heavily to my sides. My heart was close to beating out of my chest.

Max’s release followed right behind mine. I touched his back as his body strained. His chest heaved. Fingertips dug into my skin. Muscles flexed. He shuddered; an anguished groan tore from his throat.

His movements slowed before he collapsed onto me breathing heavily.

A moment later he lifted his head.

Neither of us said a word.



14—TRANSCEND

I stop talking.

The memory becomes distant. I’m standing still, but it’s moving away slowly. Further, further, further. It becomes a small speck in my mind before it disappears altogether.

A shaky breath escapes me and I meet Dr. Rutledge’s gaze. Every time I tell her more of my story, I’m sucked back to those moments. It’s painful to come back to reality. I want to stay in my past where Max was waiting, where I still had Lana with me.

Dr. Rutledge looks at me with understanding before she looks down at her watch. “It’s already 5 p.m. We’ll resume tomorrow.”

God, yes. I can’t take much more. I need to get out of her office and make sure all my memories of Lachlan, Max and Lana stay here. I picture myself locking the door and tossing the key behind me and running far away.

I stand and walk to the door.

“Naomi?”

I wince and turn. Don’t tell me there is more.

“You did well today,” Dr. Rutledge says gently, with a hint of pride.

I shouldn’t bask in her words, but I do. She’s listening to me. She’s giving me a chance, and that shows me that maybe not every doctor in Fairfax is a total dumb ass.

Mary is waiting for me in the hallway. We walk toward the dining room for dinner. Neither of us says a word. I’m trying to leave behind Max and Lana in Dr. Rutledge’s office, but it’s impossible. They follow me everywhere.

I can’t escape them.

We stop outside of the dining room. “I’ll pick you back up in forty-five minutes,” Mary says before she walks away.

I’m twenty going on six. Hell, everyone here is. Everything I do here requires supervision. It was annoying the first time, but now I’m used to it.

The irony of this room is the layout. It looks like a classy restaurant. White pillars, a fireplace is between two sets of French doors. Dark blue carpet. Pale yellow walls, and of course, two large paintings of flowers hanging on the wall. I make sure to look at them once during every meal. I consider it my art therapy for the day.

I grab my food that consists of runny mac and cheese, a generous scoop of green beans and one slice of dry, chocolate cake. Plastic utensils and water.

There are tables scattered throughout the room. Some people sit together and talk. Some don’t. Some are like me and sit with no one. My only habit is sitting close to Pretend Mommy. She’s at her usual table, with her baby cradled in her arms.

I chew my food slowly and people watch. Sitting at a table behind Pretend Mommy is Amber. She picks at her macaroni, sifting through the noodles until she finds one that meets her standards. She finally chooses one, sucks the cheese. She goes to discreetly wipe her face, but I watch as she spits the noodle into the napkin.

She repeats this routine. A nurse sees the same thing I do. She walks over to Amber and talks quietly in her ear.

Amber grinds her teeth and holds another noodle to her mouth and stares for a few seconds. And then she snaps.

“I want to go back to my f*cking room!” She picks up her tray and throws it at the wall.

Havoc breaks out everywhere. Patients start to shriek. A few giggle. One cries and hides under the table. Pretend Mommy cradles her baby to her chest and sings a nursery rhyme.

There’s a guy sitting at a table next to me. He is unfazed. He leans back in his chair and grins. Maybe he’s a lifer. That could explain his joy over all this chaos.

All I can do is stare. There are just some things I will never get used to.

I abandon my food and walk over to a nurse talking to Amber. “Can I go outside?” I ask above the noise.

She gives me an impatient look. I can already tell that she’s going to say no.

“I’m not going to escape or go all crazy,” I say quickly. “I just want a few minutes of peace.”

She looks me up and down. I must pass her inspection. Or maybe she’s tired of the chaos going on and she couldn’t care less what I do. Either way, she briskly says yes and turns back to Amber.

I shove open the door. The cold air slams into me so painfully I almost wheeze. But the door shuts behind me, and as the noises from inside fade, I realize I would take this freezing air any day over sitting in that dining room.

I walk across the snow and make my way to the railing. In front of me is a stretch of land with grass covered by snowflakes and naked trees standing brave in the freezing temperatures. You know, if I want, I can make a run for it. I’ll have thirty minutes, an hour at the most, where no one will even notice I’m gone. As tempting as the thought is, I’m terrified. I keep looking over my shoulder, afraid someone is watching me from the inside and can read my thoughts.