Read Online WHITE WALLS by Lauren Hammond - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lauren Hammond
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from his mannerisms I can tell he has ice in his veins. There's no feeling there.
No warmth.
He must be dark and empty inside.
I think of a saying Mommy used to preach often; Beauty is only skin deep.
That couldn't be more true about the man I just met. He is beautiful on the outside, with his flawless fair complexion, dimples, radiant unusual eyes that drizzle like warm honey, and glowing white teeth. But on the inside, I now know that he's something else entirely. I decide to put my own words into the phrase Mommy used to mention.
Beauty is only skin deep but evil cuts straight through the soul.
Chapter Twelve
~Before~
The patients here get free time every day.
I enjoy my free time.
I spent years and years and years being told what to do or where to go or how to act, so being able to have a tiny bit of freedom is a blessing. The downside is you only get it if you're on good behavior. My nightmares make me a troublemaker to the staff, so my free time is limited. But when I do get it, I relish it and am determined not to waste a second of it.
I take a seat in front of the wide, rectangular window and gaze out into a sea of green. The way they landscape the lawn of the institution reminds me of a palace courtyard and I wish they'd let us outside to roll around in the lush green grass.
Then my attention shifts to the charred remains of what used to be the men’s' facility. A few months before my arrival one of female patients here, somehow managed to sneak over there and coat the wooden floors with kerosene before setting it on fire. Needless to say, I overheard some of the patients talking, and no one ever saw that patient ever again.
There was a rumor going around that the female patient had fallen for one of the male patients over there and became more psycho than she already was when she discovered that he was having an affair with one of the other female patients.
The blackened, pointy hunks of wood remind me of the way I feel inside, damaged.
Destroyed.
Scarred for life.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll always feel this way or if eventually I'll be able to say that I lived and loved and it was magnificent and at the same time tragic, but it was my past. Sometimes I wonder if that image of Damien smiling at me just before his knees hit my bedroom floor will ever fade. It's remembering his last moment that always kills me. It's seeing that smile in my mind that always sends me over the edge. And it always comes to me at the most inopportune moments.
It's like just when I think I'm going to be okay, that beautiful, haunting smile hits me. Just when I think I'm whole again. I see that loving look in his eye, telling me that to him, my life meant more than his. It's at that moment that I crumble all over again. I crumble like the men’s' facility after spending hours engulfed in flames. I am nothing but ash and soot.
My emotions overwhelm me and tears pool in my eyes. I blink them away and I swear that for a moment, I swear I can see a set of sapphire eyes staring at me from behind. Even in the reflection of the window they're vibrant and now my tears have morphed into sobs and I do the best I can to hold them back.
As I continue gazing out the window, I feel something whack me in the back of the head. I dry my eyes quickly, not wanting to expose my private moment of grief and then I touch my occipital bone. My eyes drop to the floor as a red crayon rolls across the tile. I scowl over my shoulder at Aurora. Her big brown eyes are wide with amusement and she throws her hand over her mouth, laughing. I sigh with frustration and pick up the crayon. I walk over to her and drop it on the table. “Did you lose something?”
She gasps in mock surprise and answers me in a faux southern accent. “I certainly did, ma'am. Thank you kindly for returning it.” Her smile is sickeningly sweet. She fists her left hand and holds it out in front of her. “Here, let me give you a reward.” She rolls her
No warmth.
He must be dark and empty inside.
I think of a saying Mommy used to preach often; Beauty is only skin deep.
That couldn't be more true about the man I just met. He is beautiful on the outside, with his flawless fair complexion, dimples, radiant unusual eyes that drizzle like warm honey, and glowing white teeth. But on the inside, I now know that he's something else entirely. I decide to put my own words into the phrase Mommy used to mention.
Beauty is only skin deep but evil cuts straight through the soul.
Chapter Twelve
~Before~
The patients here get free time every day.
I enjoy my free time.
I spent years and years and years being told what to do or where to go or how to act, so being able to have a tiny bit of freedom is a blessing. The downside is you only get it if you're on good behavior. My nightmares make me a troublemaker to the staff, so my free time is limited. But when I do get it, I relish it and am determined not to waste a second of it.
I take a seat in front of the wide, rectangular window and gaze out into a sea of green. The way they landscape the lawn of the institution reminds me of a palace courtyard and I wish they'd let us outside to roll around in the lush green grass.
Then my attention shifts to the charred remains of what used to be the men’s' facility. A few months before my arrival one of female patients here, somehow managed to sneak over there and coat the wooden floors with kerosene before setting it on fire. Needless to say, I overheard some of the patients talking, and no one ever saw that patient ever again.
There was a rumor going around that the female patient had fallen for one of the male patients over there and became more psycho than she already was when she discovered that he was having an affair with one of the other female patients.
The blackened, pointy hunks of wood remind me of the way I feel inside, damaged.
Destroyed.
Scarred for life.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll always feel this way or if eventually I'll be able to say that I lived and loved and it was magnificent and at the same time tragic, but it was my past. Sometimes I wonder if that image of Damien smiling at me just before his knees hit my bedroom floor will ever fade. It's remembering his last moment that always kills me. It's seeing that smile in my mind that always sends me over the edge. And it always comes to me at the most inopportune moments.
It's like just when I think I'm going to be okay, that beautiful, haunting smile hits me. Just when I think I'm whole again. I see that loving look in his eye, telling me that to him, my life meant more than his. It's at that moment that I crumble all over again. I crumble like the men’s' facility after spending hours engulfed in flames. I am nothing but ash and soot.
My emotions overwhelm me and tears pool in my eyes. I blink them away and I swear that for a moment, I swear I can see a set of sapphire eyes staring at me from behind. Even in the reflection of the window they're vibrant and now my tears have morphed into sobs and I do the best I can to hold them back.
As I continue gazing out the window, I feel something whack me in the back of the head. I dry my eyes quickly, not wanting to expose my private moment of grief and then I touch my occipital bone. My eyes drop to the floor as a red crayon rolls across the tile. I scowl over my shoulder at Aurora. Her big brown eyes are wide with amusement and she throws her hand over her mouth, laughing. I sigh with frustration and pick up the crayon. I walk over to her and drop it on the table. “Did you lose something?”
She gasps in mock surprise and answers me in a faux southern accent. “I certainly did, ma'am. Thank you kindly for returning it.” Her smile is sickeningly sweet. She fists her left hand and holds it out in front of her. “Here, let me give you a reward.” She rolls her
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