Those of you who have been around for a bit know I do a project called Friday Fictioneers . A few months back (November 23, 2012 actually) I did one I called Assylum (<<<click here to read the first short short story. Or to find where that part fits in here.)
This is it’s photo.
I got a lot of response from it. Lots of people wanted to know more. I wrote out some more 1465 words more. I sat it aside, there are to many projects I’m working on right now. I thought I’d come back to it later on. I was chatting with Waiting For A Name yesterday and she brought it up. ( You should go and read her series about Angelique. It’s really amazing!) I was so impressed that she remembered it. I didn’t think my writing had that much of a lasting impression on anyone. I was thinking of putting up some short stories soonish, that was one of them.
A little bit of info before hand. (I know you all want me to just get to the story) When I searched the spelling of Asylum, I did a quick search and found a medical dictionary, it was spelled Assylum. I used it. After I published the post my daughter said I spelled it wrong. I looked for the online dictionary and couldn’t find it. I like it with the double “S” so I’m keeping it. I have an idea of what the huge secret is, but I’m not fully sure. Please don’t ask. I have way too much work to be doing, I don’t have the time to ask what exactly is happening. I just know it really isn’t good.
It’s still pretty raw. I’m sure there are some spelling mistakes and a lot of passive phrases.
so without further ado….
I looked out the window. I took the envelope blade and ran it across my wrist. Of course, it did not cut deep enough. I poked at the small red line. I looked up and out the window. I wished the fog would engulf me. I wanted it to carry me away. These were not words or emotions I would be allowed to express. However, what they have done to me…
I pressed myself closer to the window. Could I throw myself out? There was a knock on my door, “Miss, your father awaits you at the table, to break your fast.” Her eyes darted from me to the bed.
“Miss, you still haven’t dressed.”
She walked closer to me and held out her arms. I felt the tears build in my eyes. She was so kind to me; could I trust her? She would side with them. They all would side with them.
“I am ill, ask my father to excuse me.” I said turning back to the window. She nodded once and went to the bed.
“I will tell him. Allow me to fix your room.” She gasped as she pulled the bedclothes. “Miss!” she shrieked.
I stood and walked slowly to the vanity. My legs were weak; I feared falling. I replaced the envelope blade.
She knelt in front of me. “Shall I call for the doctor?”
I shook my head. She reached for my hands, I pulled them away from her. She gasped again when she saw the red soaking through my sleeves.
“I will call for the doctor.” She stood and ran from the room.
I could see no point of bring him into this. He would not be able to help me.
I could not help me. No one could help me anymore. I was beyond help. My father and Uncle Tom stood in my doorway. My nurse pushed her way through and pulled back the bedclothes. She draped it over me and raised my hands for them to see.
“What have you done?” My father flew into a rage.
“Call for the doctor!” Uncle Tom bellowed down the hall.
I felt laughter in my belly. I must not let it escape. They must not hear it. I avoided their eyes. I could not bear to see them.
My father calmed as he paced. He held his hands behind his back. He stopped suddenly and looked up. “Bring her meal to her and see that she eats it. I will await the doctor downstairs.” Father said.
Uncle Tom followed on his footsteps. My nurse placed her palm on my head then left me alone. Could I avert this if I were to throw myself down the stairs? Death, where was he when I had need of him. When I was yet a child he come without invitation. He took my mother. Why would he not come for me now?
I looked at the bed. My stomach churned and my heart twisted within me. I knew why he did not come for me. I was not what he wanted. I pray, that nurse will bring a blade with her for my bread. I may still have a chance. Could I, do I have the courage to plunge it into my belly? I stood and paced the room. What took her so long? I could not stay in this house any longer. Would the doctor take me elsewhere? No. I felt my knees buckle under me. He would do as my father said, or take in to account Uncle Tom’s comments. They would not allow me to leave. I would be the old-maid; still under her father’s care. Would he have a bout of genius? Could he find a way to keep hidden the unspeakable?
My nurse returned with a tray of bread and tea. She did not bring a blade, she had brought honey not jam. I sighed as I sat down.
“The doctor will be here shortly. Would you care to tell me what ails you, my dear?”
I shook my head. She stood and pulled me into her embrace. She held me tightly, “My dear, child. I have loved you as my own.” The tears I had kept inside flowed down my cheeks. I felt my body tremble in her arms. “Oh, my child.” she wept with me. “I have no way to protect my beloved child.”
She held me until I stopped shaking.
“You must eat, you will need your strength.” She let go of me and handed me a kerchief. She broke my bread and dipped it in the honey. I nibbled. I would not cause her more grief. I had been robbed my mother, but my nurse took her place. I tried to drink and be merry.
Uncle Tom passed the open door, “May I enter your chamber, dear niece?”
“The doctor will be here shortly. It is good to see you eating. Your father will be content to hear the news.”
I looked up to see his grin before he stroll out of my room.
The doctor entered; nurse on his footsteps. He looked over the bed and at my wrists. He examined me. My wrists were wrapped.
“You are well.” He said as he left to find Father.
“Will you please listen to what he tells Father?” Her mouth fell open.
“No, my dear. I cannot do that.”
I understood the fear she felt. I would not have granted that request. She made my bed as I sat trembling. She helped me to dress. I sat with a book to pass the time until Father came to me.
My father returned some time later. “It is good to see you are dressed. The doctor recommends you have fresh air.”
I stood, put the book away and followed him to the door. Uncle Tom awaited us. He nodded to me. When they were ready; we set off for the walk that was to do me good.
Father and Uncle Tom each held on of my arms. They dragged me down the sidewalk.
“It should be around here,” Father said.
They continued to drag me farther down the road. Uncle Tom tilted his head towards the bronze figures in the wall.
“Just a little farther.”
I looked up. “No!” I screamed, “Please, do not take me there.” I tried to pull away from them. They both gripped my arms tighter.
“Please behave,” Father said, “If they do not think you should be there, you will be released quickly.”
“No! Please, Father, I’m not crazy.”
It was of no use. Uncle Tom rapped the door with the head of his cane. The door opened slightly. They hurriedly entered.
“Please,” I pleaded.
My father handed me to two men in white coats.
“I will see you shortly.” He reached to kiss the top of my head.
I felt his lips burn into me. I was not prepared for this, yet how much worse could it be. How much worse could this place be then my nightly sufferings in my own sleeping chamber? I tried to keep in pace with the men. They tossed me at a woman dressed in white, and slammed the door behind them.
She handed me a pile of clothes. I expected her to turn while I undressed. she did not. I tried not to look at her as I continued to undress.
“Hold still,” she said when I was fully nude. “Turn.”
I slowly turned a circle. When I looked at her, she had tears in her eyes. She helped me to dress. She pulled my arms out towards her and unbound each wrist, then wrapped them again.
“You will have a chance to speak with your father before you are taken to a room.” I shook my head. “I am sorry dear, I cannot stop it. He has the right to see you one last time.” She tenderly took me by the arm, and knocked on the door.
The two men had waited for me. They walked with me back to a small greeting room. My father sat on the window seat. He stood and embraced me.
“You must keep quiet. Do you understand?” He whispered in my ear.
“I will get you out of here as soon as I can,” he whispered again lingering longer than needed. I nodded again.
“You will have to stay for a small time, but I will get you out.” He kissed my cheek.
I did not move. I understood it was much faster if I held still when they touched me.
“Your time is over.” One of the guards said.
He pulled me by my arm. The rough treatment here would be much better than the treatment they gave me.