by Ivy Smoak
She closed her notebook. “It’s clear that we’re not going to be having a serious conversation today.”
“Dr. Nash, please, you have to help me!”
“You want me to believe that your husband is abusing you? The same man that’s sitting in the waiting room worried sick about you? The one that deals with your moods like a saint? Come back next time with a better story. Or tell me the truth. For once in your life, stop lying to yourself and stop lying to me. All I want is to help you.”
I stood up. “Go to hell!”
She sighed. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of time. I’m going to double your dosage of anxiety and depression medicine. And next time, please call in advance if you’re going to miss an appointment. But I expect you to be here. And I expect you to tell me the truth so that I can help you.”
“You’ll be sorry. If I die, someone will find out the truth. And you’ll be so, so sorry that you didn’t listen.”
“That’s enough!” She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. Her eyes were like stones when she looked back at me. She slowly stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “Now if you would please sit in the waiting room, I need to have a word with your husband.”
“He’s lying to you.”
“We both know that isn’t true.”
“You can’t talk about this with him. You can’t tell him what I said. He’ll punish me.”
“He’s your custodian, Adeline. He needs to be aware of your progress.”
She said progress. But her tone screamed “lack of progress.”
“I don’t need a custodian. I can make my own decisions.”
“The state of Delaware thinks otherwise. Now, if you would, please go to the waiting room and send your husband in.”
I wasn’t crazy. He had hurt me. He’d been hurting me for years. And I didn’t need drugs. I didn’t need someone else to make decisions for me. I was going to go home and find my box and go to the police. They’d help me. And if not, I’d kill my husband. I’d hit him over the head with a shovel and use the same shovel to bury his grave in the backyard. I couldn’t wait for his lifeless eyes to stare back at me. He had made mine lifeless for so long.
I walked out into the waiting room and plastered a smile on my face. “She wants to talk to you.”
He folded up the magazine he had been reading and walked over to me. “Feeling better?” he asked with a smile that was probably as fake as mine.
“Oh, I’m smashing.” Right after I killed my husband I was going to kill Dr. Nash.
Chapter 23
I looked down at the bland piece of chicken on my plate. All I wanted to do was find that box. But he was breathing down my neck.
“Eat, Adeline.”
I glanced up at his face. It was odd. At one point, I thought I loved his smile. His eyes. His nose even. Now each feature made me feel nauseous. “Are you going to send me away?” I hated how pathetic I sounded. But he'd barely said a word since we left Dr. Nash’s. What had they talked about?
He finished chewing and set down his fork. “You’re acting like I want to. I never want to.”
“Then why do you threaten me with it?”
“Why do you continue to defy me?”
Because you don’t own me. I was done fighting with him. All I had to do was wait until he needed to leave to catch his flight. Whenever that was. He'd originally said he’d be stopping by for lunch. It was almost 3 o’clock. And I couldn’t force this food down my throat. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I can take some vacation time. I can…”
“No. That’s not necessary. You have to work. And I told you I’d take the pills.”
He stared at me, as if he was trying to gauge my honesty. “Then take them.”
The bag from the pharmacy sat on the table between us. A divide we’d never cross.
But if I wanted him to leave, I had to put those pills in my mouth. At least I didn’t have to swallow them. I pulled the bag toward me and took out bottle after bottle. It was an endless supply of ways to cloud my thoughts. Exactly what he wanted. Exactly what Dr. Nash wanted. But it wasn’t what I wanted. Why didn’t my opinion count? Why didn’t I get a say? I wasn’t insane. I didn’t need a custodian.
I'd had one moment of weakness. One instance where I had lost control. That didn’t earn a lifetime of damnation. It didn’t. That’s what hell was for. I deserved to live my life the way I wanted. They were robbing me of that.
I unscrewed the cap to the first bottle and popped two of them in my mouth. Two for depression. I unscrewed the second bottle. Two for anxiety. I drank some water, being careful to keep the pills tucked under my tongue. Bottle after bottle. Paranoia. Nausea medicine to counteract the side effects of all the other pills. Claustrophobia. One to relieve symptoms of OCD. A thyroid problem they couldn’t prove. Way too many pills to hide underneath my tongue. But my husband didn’t take his eyes off me.
I screwed the last cap back on and tossed the bottle into the bag. “Happy?” My words sounded gargled. Damn it.
“Swallow them, Adeline.”
“I have.” Even I could hear the slurred tone of my voice.
He stood up and walked over to me.
I tried to force my throat to make a gulping noise, but failed. My mouth was too full.
He grabbed my jaw and yanked my face up to his. “Now, Adeline.”
I tried to shake my head, but his fingers dug into my jaw.
“Swallow.”
“I…need…water.”
“Now!”
I swallowed a few of the pills dry. They scratched my throat the whole way down. He kept my chin in his grasp.
“All of them.”
Tears bit at the corners of my eyes. One by one, the pills went down. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Stick your tongue out.”
I clenched my jaw shut. Screw him. I'd done what he had asked. And it felt like I had just swallowed poison. My mind was already muddled. The moment stretched on and on.
He pinched my nose closed. “Open your mouth!”
I grabbed his wrist with both my hands to push him off. He responded by putting his free hand around my neck.
I couldn’t breathe.
He tightened his fingers.
“Stop!” I tried to yell, but no sound came out.
He took my opportunity of weakness to pry open my jaw. He shoved me backward when he was satisfied.
My butt slid off the chair and I landed on the ground.
“I wanted a nice afternoon, Adeline.”
“I’m sorry.” It felt like I was still choking. I gasped for air.
“Why do you always have to test my patience?”
“I’m sorry.”
He crouched down beside me. “If I come home this weekend and find you in the same condition I did today, then I’m going to have no choice.”
“I’ll take the pills. I promise.”
“Good girl.” He leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair out of my face, completely ignoring my tears. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
There was no question in his sentence. But I shook my head anyway.
“Dr. Nash suggested someone coming and checking in on you once a day. Until my schedule eases up.”
He was talking about being home more again. Just the thought made it feel like my heart stopped beating. “I don’t need someone to check on me. I had a bad day is all. I missed you. This house feels small without you here.” Claustrophobia was apparently one of my issues. I could play that up.
He nodded. “Only one more day apart until this weekend, babe.” His fingers wandered over my neck, landing on my injured shoulder. “Try not to hurt yourself while I’m gone.”
You’re the one that hurt me. He was so obviously the crazy one in our relationship. I just wished I didn’t feed off of his insanity. Instead of fighting, I nodded my head.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It took every ounce of re
straint I possessed not to bite him. I imagined it was Ben. I imagined the smell of grass and the taste of lust. And when he pulled away and his face came back into focus, I had this horrible fear. What if I had made up the box? What if I had made up my hurt shoulder? What if I had made up Ben?
My heart rate accelerated. Paranoia. I did have it. But it was because of the medicine. Right? The thought of Ben not being real made me want to cry.
My husband cupped my face in his hand. “I wish I could stay. I wish I could be here to take care of you. And help you get better.”
I nodded, despite the fact that I loathed the idea and didn’t need a lick of his help. My eyelid twitched. I needed to find that box. I needed to go to Ben. I needed to throw up. My mind was consumed and the man in front of me blurred away.
The sound of the front door closing pulled me out of my trance. He was gone. I stood up on wobbly legs and started running for the stairs.
My sprained ankle. My shoulder. The pain still emanating from my neck. Nothing could stop me from getting to that box. I had been taking pictures of the injuries he had given me. We had no pictures of us hanging in the house. No lies in images. But I had the truth in a whole shoebox of images.
I threw myself onto my hands and knees at the base of my bed. No. There wasn’t a single thing under our bed. Not a loose sock or a dust bunny, let alone a box. No. I pushed myself away from the bed. No!
I buried my face in my hands. I had lost all control of my body. It heaved up and down as I cried harder than I ever had. I touched my neck where it still felt like his hands were. I knew I had lost my freedom. I had no choice but to give it up to him. But when had this happened? When had I lost my mind too?
Chapter 24
I had scoured my house just like I had Ben’s. Every single drawer. Every single inch of closet space. Twice. Because the first time my vision was blurred with tears. The second look further proved what I had feared. There was no box. There was no evidence of his abuse. Just my own memories. And who would believe the words of a lunatic?
I was terrified to turn my phone back on. As soon as I did, I’d know if Ben was real. He would have texted me. We had such a lovely evening together. And then I left so suddenly. He’d be worried. Right?
Every minute that passed made me feel like I was slipping away. And maybe I was. I had been staring at the basement door for over half an hour. My body was paralyzed. My eyes stuck on the bolted lock.
I wasn’t scared to go into Ben’s basement. If anything, I had been so eager that I had almost ruined my relationship with him. Hell, maybe I had. Maybe he had seen the scratch marks on the knob. Or my broken bobby pin on the stairs. Or maybe none of that had even happened. That thought was the most horrifying.
But my basement? I wanted nothing to do with it. Basements were for intruders and items of the past. I was scared of both. Despite what I had said to Dr. Nash, I wasn’t over my past. I wasn’t over that night. How could I be? Every mistake I had made in my life had led me to this moment. And this moment was hell.
Unlock the door. I lifted my hand up to the lock. I cringed when my fingers touched the metal. I pulled my hand down. Today had been bad enough. Why did I want to make it worse? The box wouldn’t be down there. Because the box didn’t exist. I folded my arms across my chest and stepped back.
I needed sleep. I needed…I didn’t know what I needed. No, that wasn’t true. What I needed was Ben. The thought made me want to cry again. I cared way more about Ben than I did about the box. And that was terrifying too. I barely knew him. Why did I care so much? He couldn’t help me out of this mess. Continuing our relationship would only make it worse.
But that didn’t stop me from walking back to the kitchen and picking up my phone. It was as difficult as unlocking the basement door. I forced my thumb down on the power button.
Please be real. God, please. It felt like my whole body was pulsing. My heartbeat was everywhere. In my ears. In my throat.
The screen turned on. And…nothing. I blinked. Dr. Nash was right about everything. Every. Single. Thing. I would have started crying again, but I didn’t think it was possible. The medicine had taken full effect. It was hard to cry when I was numb.
So instead, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed until my throat ached.
And I threw my phone against the stupid white wall. It made a cracking noise and fell to the floor. I screamed again and choked on the noise. My next scream sounded like a wounded animal. That’s what my husband had turned me into. An animal. He had stolen everything from me. I opened my mouth to scream again but only made the tiniest peep.
Because my phone buzzed and danced across the tiled floor. And then it buzzed again. And again.
I flew to the ground and looked down at the cracked screen. The tears that didn’t come with agony somehow came with joy. Maybe my medicine couldn’t dull every emotion. It was just rare for me to experience joy when I was doped up. I wiped underneath my eyes and clicked on the text from the unknown number. It had come in four hours ago. Probably several minutes after I had left Ben’s house. My phone just hadn’t loaded the messages yet.
“It was definitely memorable. Although, our second date could be mind-blowing. I never did find out your favorite food. Maybe I’ll just prepare an assortment of meats for you for dinner tonight.”
I smiled. He didn’t ask if I wanted to come to dinner. He basically just told me it’s what was happening. I wiped away the remaining tears and clicked on the next message. It was from an hour after the first.
“It’s Ben by the way. In case you didn’t get that. You said something came up. Is everything okay?”
He was worried. For some reason that comforted me. I never had anyone in my life to worry before. At least, anyone I believed. Because my husband claimed he worried. But he only truly cared about himself. I clicked on Ben’s last message.
“Addy, you can’t exactly ghost me. I know where you live.”
I laughed and typed out a response. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m sorry, I had an appointment I forgot about.” I pressed the backspace until what I had typed disappeared. I didn’t want him to ask about my appointment. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk at all. I wanted to feel his strong arms around me. I wanted to feel whole for just one moment.
“You already have the only meat I want. Do you want to come over?” I pressed send before I chickened out.
I only had to wait one agonizing minute before my phone buzzed back to life.
“Do you want me to come in your back door?”
I laughed. The sexual innuendo wasn’t lost on me. But I actually wanted him to use the literal back door. “Absolutely.” I pressed send. I needed to get out of this ugly dress and into something a little more…me.
Chapter 25
I didn’t want Ben to fall for my pretty face. I wanted him to fall for me. Every broken piece, every untapped corner, every fiber of me. It wasn’t fair to ask him to do that.
But life was always unfair. It wasn’t fair that I was stuck in a relationship with no love. And it wasn’t fair to pull him into that mess. It wasn’t fair to trick him into falling for me. So I wiped off my lipstick and exchanged my jeans for the sweatpants that I usually reserved for cleaning. I pulled my hair into a knot on the top of my head and turned back to the mirror.
This was me. Sweatpants and all. Or was it? It was so rare that I got to be myself that I wasn’t even sure I remembered how. I was happy scrubbing every inch of the house on Fridays. Which meant sweatpants made me happy. I think. That made sense. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
Life truly was unfair. My pretty face hid the darkness inside. Even in this outfit and without makeup, I knew that I was attractive. But everyone knew that looks could be deceiving. Sometimes I wished that I’d have huge pores and warts. Maybe my husband would divorce me if I was hideous. I sighed and turned away from the mirror. That was wishful thinking. My face wasn’t what made him say “I do.” I had just found that out a few days too
late.
Tonight wasn’t about my mistakes. It was about my sanity. Ben would be here any minute. And I somehow needed to determine if he was real. I wasn’t sure how that was possible. I could picture the box in my hands. I remembered putting pictures into it. I remembered taking them. Years of documentation. And that wasn’t real.
I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. Unless my husband had found the box. He could have thrown it away. Burned it. Buried it in the backyard. A smile curled over my lips. How fitting would it be if I buried his body beside the box filled with the reasons why.
I pinched the bridge of my nose harder. God, I was insane. Who dreamed of murdering their husband? What kind of person smiled at the thought of death?
It was the pills. They were changing me. I shook my head. No. I had thought about killing him when I wasn’t on them too. I thought about what it would sound like when the bones in his neck snapped. Or how much blood would splatter on the walls if I hit him in the face with a frying pan.
I lowered my hand to cover my mouth. Was I crazy? Was the medicine actually helping me? I felt sick to my stomach. I looked toward the bathroom. The pills had been in my system for a while now. I wasn’t sure if making myself throw up would even help. Besides, I didn’t even know how to do it.
And what if Dr. Nash was right? It’s possible they were helping me not act upon my thoughts. It was even possible that she had been here and looked under my bed. There wouldn’t have been anything there. But I’d remember. I would have. Something like that would have stuck with me. And my husband would have responded when she left. He would have punished me.
Or maybe she did come. And she did find a box. And they were both plotting against me. That stupid whore. I’d love to hear her try to scream when my hands were around her neck.
I wrapped my arms around myself. How long had I been having those thoughts? Did insanity happen suddenly? Or was it a slow progression? I wasn’t sure I could remember being normal.
What if I had imagined looking for the box, but hadn’t actually done it? I knelt down on the ground again and looked under the bed. And I tried not to cry. My world had turned upside down. It felt like my mind was rewinding and fast forwarding at the same time.
