Page 21 of Heal Me

“That night was a year before you found me. To the date.” She gives a humorless laugh. “I spent a year going from place to place, living off what little I could earn from singing, hoping I could find something—anything—for me out there. All I found was more misery, only in new shapes and forms. I decided to give it a year. If nothing got better, I would take control over my own life and end it on my own terms.” She makes a shuddery sigh. “But I guess I wasn’t strong enough.”

I prop myself up on my elbow, gently turning her to lie on her back. “You know what I thought when I found you?”

“No.”

“I found you so brave for making that decision.”

“Brave? I couldn’t even cut deep enough.”

“You still made the decision, to go there. I never could do that. I was always weak like that.”

“Weak? How could you even say that?” She lifts her hand, touching her slender fingers to my face. The gesture is startling, and I nearly pull away. But as she curves her hand around my cheek, the warmth of her palm connecting with my skin, I lift myown hand, covering hers to keep it there. “There’s nothing weak about you.” She looks back and forth between my eyes. “I believe you when you say you’ll protect me. There’s no one else I’d feel safer hearing those words from.”

My pulse speeds up as I stare at her, utterly mesmerized by her beauty, her words, her vulnerability, and the strength that shines through despite her brokenness. I want to absorb her so I can be close to that strength all the time. I want to absorb her utterly and completely, but I’m afraid I will taint her beauty and lose it for good. Things always have a way of withering and wilting close to me.

At that moment, I decide that I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen to my sweet songbird. I don’t know how, so that’s something I’ll have to figure out. For now, I’ll go easy on her, and instead of trying to get closer, I remain where I am and ask her to give me the one thing she can give without risking me ruining it.

“Sing to me.”

16

LAVINIA

Things sort of stagnate after the nightmare and the night I spent with Dorin, opening up my heart to him, in both spoken and sung words.

He seems to grow even more protective of me, coming to my cell several times a day, taking me to get showered himself, and asking me how I’m feeling. At the same time, I feel like he’s distancing himself. He’ll touch me to give me comfort, but he doesn’t take me to get electrotherapy again or do any other inappropriate things to me.

I should be happy about this development, but part of me misses it—the way he made me forget everything. The way he made me feel cleansed and new. As if he somehow reset my mind with the warped things he did.

I ask him a few times when I’ll get to see a doctor or get some real treatment, but he always evades my questions or answers vaguely.

It makes me wonder about this place—if it really is what he says it is. Maybe they don’t care about treatment at all? Maybe they just care about getting the insane people off the streets—away from everyone else? Maybe this is just a prison disguised as a mental facility? And maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life in this cell?

Or maybe it’s something entirely different.

I always shudder at that last thought and try to reason that it really is a mental facility. But it’s difficult. There are too many things pointing in other directions. Such as the strange way the men seemed to fear Dorin when I had the nightmare. I try to chalk it up to part of the illicitness of this place—that there’s some kind of hierarchy between the orderlies. And maybe the place is even more corrupt than it appears—there’s more abuse going on than I thought. Maybe what I’m experiencing is nothing compared to what others endure. Maybe I’m lucky to have Dorin taken his liking to me. If he hadn’t done that, maybe the other men would use me in even worse ways.

Or maybe it isn’t a mental facility at all.

All these thoughts rush through my mind as the days drag on, making me feel like I’m going insane.

I can’t figure out if I’m paranoid, if something worse than a little corruption really is amiss here, or if it’s the isolation that’smakingme insane. To avoid the latter, I start singing to myself. It’s the only thing I can do here. I sing all the songs my mother taught me, all the ones I’ve picked up in the various places I’ve been, and I even come up with new ones myself.

But not even singing will chase away this new unease creeping along the edges of my mind. I need answers, so I decide to try to get some from Dorin.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I ask him one morning when he brings me breakfast. “Please tell me; I need to know.”

“Your situation is being evaluated,” he says, vague as always.

“By who? Shouldn’t I see a doctor? No one’s been here to evaluate me.”

“That’s not for you to worry about.” He sits on the mattress, pulls me between his legs, and scoops a big spoonful of yogurt and fresh fruit up, holding it to my lips. He’s been feeding me different things lately—more flavorful and varied food. It helpsa bit to have my senses awakened like that, but it’s far from enough to cut through the stagnant, dead routine I’m stuck in.

I push his hand away and turn to look at the closed door. “Please, Dorin. I’m going insane, just sitting here all day, all alone, nothing to do.”

Something almost like hurt or anger flickers across his features. “You have me.” He shoves the spoon back to my lips, pressing until I open up, not caring that yogurt drips down my chest.

I quickly chew and swallow before continuing with incredulity. “I have you. An orderly. Someone who comes to check on me once in a while. Someone who makes sure I eat and don’tkillmyself. I need more. I’m in here all day, all alone. I need… I don’t know. Some kind of stimulation. Fresh air. Other people.”

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