Page 31 of Deliria

I swallow hard, forcing myself to believe his words. Trust in Alex. Believe that he has my best interests at heart.

It’s not easy, not with the doubts and fears that continue to gnaw at the edges of my mind, but I nod my agreement, if only to ease the tension in the room.

Once the doctor has left with promises to return in a few days to monitor my progress, I find myself alone with Alex once more. He’s quiet, thoughtful, his gaze never leaving my face. It’s unnerving, the way he watches me, as if he’s trying to decipher some sort of puzzle that I’m not even aware of.

“Thank you.” I say again, not sure what it is he wants from me.

He lets out a low sigh full of relief before murmuring that he needs to get some work done, that I need to rest, that he’ll be back later and I should stay here and try to sleep more.

I comply, shifting to lie down, even though I don’t think I could sleep a wink if I tried.

He leaves, clicking the door closed in a way that seems to echo with the finality of my situation.

I am trapped, not just by the walls of this opulent prison, but by the illness that has taken over my mind and body.

The minutes stretch into hours, or at least, that’s what it feels like. Time has become as malleable as my memories, bending and twisting until I can no longer trust my own perceptions.

And suddenly, I need to move, to breathe, to escape the oppressive confines of this bedroom.

I rise from the bed, my legs shaky but compliant. In the dressing room I hastily get dressed in real clothes. Day clothes. Not a silly little silk nightdress that feels far too flimsy, far too whimsical and far too like I’m some damsel in distress.

I wander through the mansion, my footsteps echoing off the high ceilings and marble floors.

Those portraits of Alex’s ancestors watch me with cold, disapproving eyes, their silent judgment adding to the growing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. I bet they wouldn’t have allowed me to remain here. I bet they would have shipped their spouses off at the first hint of trouble.

There’s a winding staircase meant for the staff, one I know the family don’t use that leads directly to the ground floor of the mansion and I tiptoe down it, anxious not to be seen by anyone.

The house is eerily quiet, the only sound being the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the entrance hall. It’s a starkreminder of the passage of time, of the life I’m missing out on while I’m trapped here in this gilded cage.

As I step outside, the cool breeze wraps itself around me, carrying with it the briny scent of the sea.

I make my way to the cliffs, the wildness of the landscape matching the turmoil that rages within me.

For a long time I just sit there staring out at the horizon, lost in the darkest of my thoughts.

I feel guilty, so guilty, for the burden I’ve placed on Alex’s shoulders.

He doesn’t deserve this.

He doesn’t deserve a wife who is more trouble than she’s worth.

I think about what the doctor said, about how most men would have put their wives in an institution, and a part of me wonders if that wouldn’t be the kinder option. To relieve Alex of the responsibility, to free him from the chains of our marriage so that he can find someone healthy, someone whole.

The thought of ending it all crosses my mind, a dark and tempting whisper that promises an end to the pain, the confusion, everything.

With a timid step, I peer down over the edge and all I can see is those sharp, jagged rocks with crashing waves continuously bombarding them. If I did jump and fucked it up, I could lie there more broken, in more pain, waiting God knows how long until I finally succumbed to death.

It would be just like me to fuck it up. Just like me to slip and only hit my head instead of smashing it in. The thought of me lying there, freezing, alone… no, I can’t do it. I just can’t.

Maybe I’m a coward. Maybe I’m selfish too.

And maybe I’m too afraid of the unknown to take that final, irrevocable step.

So I sit there, torn between the desire to escape and the desperate need to hold on to the crumbling fragments of my sanity.

It’s the chill of the evening air that drives me back toward the mansion. That and the niggling guilt that I’ve once more lied to Alex, lied to him about resting up when I’ve done the complete opposite.

Will he be angry at me? I guess I can’t blame him if he is. It must be exhausting for him. It must play on his mind all the time, where I am, what I’m doing, if I’ve put myself in danger again.

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