WHITE WALLS FINAL Ebook

by Lauren Hammond

  I squeeze his hand. I’ve waited all this time for him to open and it’s strange because now I wish he wouldn’t have. His past was painful. Almost as painful as mine and him bringing up his past reminds me of mine. I choke down a sob and close my eyes. Then I clear my throat and tell him, “It gets better, Elijah. But I can promise you, if you spend all of your time alone. All of the pain and the misery will eat you alive.” I know this all too well. Sometimes I think that Aurora is one of the reasons that I survived my time at Oakhill. I’m confident that if I wouldn’t have met her, I would have succeeded in committing suicide at some point. Or let Damien keep me in a fucked up reality forever. “I’ve had nightmares too.” I’m sure he remembers because he’s witnessed a few of them. “And what was it that you told me?”

  He smiles and my heart skips a beat. “That nothing in your dreams can hurt you.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but the moment I do, something unexpected happens. Elijah’s lips are on mine. His hands slide up my collar bone and tangle in my hair. He breathes into my mouth and I taste his cool mint breath as his tongue parts my lips.

  A bomb has gone off inside of me.

  An explosion of want.

  It trickles through my bloodstream to the tips of my nerve endings.

  And it’s like all of my senses are heightened.

  I’m warm. Warm everywhere. And as Elijah’s body presses mine back onto the bed, I feel the desire burning low in my belly. Pretty soon I know my whole body will be up in flames. “Adelaide.” His lips are against my neck and my name comes out muffled. “I want you. I have for months. I just…I just…”

  “Shhh.” My lips are against his. My heart is racing. And as his arm snakes around my waist and he presses into me harder, I know this moment is perfect. It’s perfect because we’re just two vulnerable, people with cracked hearts that need healed and broken pasts that need mended.

  Elijah’s hand slides up my bare stomach and a series of tingles washes over my entire body. My fingers glide up his arms over the rocky, ridges of his chiseled biceps. His tongue traces a line from my collar bone to my earlobe. I let out the moan I’ve been holding in my throat and he whispers, “You’re so beautiful. And I’ve thought that since the moment you were tossed into my ER.”

  I giggle and his lips silence my giggle.

  I know we’re not perfect.

  We’re messed up in more way than one.

  I know we both have issues.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper into his mouth and Elijah responds immediately, twirling his tongue around mine and lacing his fingers through my hair.

  He lifts his head, gazing down at me, not an ounce of coldness in his eyes. No. There’s nothing but fire in his warm eyes. His thumbs massage my cheeks. “We can stop,” he says. “We don’t have to—”

  My lips reach up and caress his.

  Softly.

  Sensually.

  “I don’t want to stop,” I whisper.

  “Me neither,” Elijah whispers into my mouth. “I can’t promise that I’ll be able to give you everything you deserve, Adelaide.” He gazes deep into my eyes and his fingers skim my cheeks, tucking strand of black behind my ears. “But I can promise you that I’ll try.”

  Yes. We both have issues.

  And I know that if we want to overcome all of our issues the only way we’ll be able to do it, is together.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  ~Before~

  The sound of Aurora’s voice rides the coat-tails of the winds as it whips through my hair.

  Run Adelaide, run!

  I am running.

  Even though I have no idea where I’m going.

  And the orderly trailing behind me is probably going tom catch up to me any minute. The thought of being free pumps through my body and fills me with so much joy; it makes me pump my weakened legs harder.

  It makes me run faster.

  But the orderly is too fast.

  He grips onto my waist, just outside of the entrance to the forest and tackles me. Digging his knees into my biceps and pinning me to the ground. “No!” I scream and try to move my arms. “NO!” Every time I try to more the orderly puts more weight on me. Digs his knees in deeper.

  “And where did you think you were going?” his deep voice is laced with fake curiosity and I wish I had the use of my hands so I could swat at him. I try to spit at him, but his face is too far away from mine. He laughs when a wad of my spit lands on my cheek. He leans over and his stale breath wafts up my nose. “You want to know something?” A second later, he licks my spit off my cheek, swallows it and places his moist lips against my ear. “I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.” There’s finality in his tone and I know deep down in my gut something bad is going to happen.

  I buck beneath him as he repositions himself and then I hear him say his brooding, heavily accented voice, “Not yet, sweetheart. I know you’re anxious, but patience is a virtue.”

  Inside I’m panicking, but I’m determined not to show. There are insects running laps through my nervous system and there is parasite of fear attached to my spine. I need help. I need help.

  But we’re a half a mile away from Oakhill.

  With terrified eyes I glance at the orderly. He’s at my feet, removing his shoe laces to tie me up. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Out of nowhere, I hear a grunt. The orderly grunts and slumps over in pain. He’s awake so that won’t give me much time.

  But what happened to him?

  I get to my feet and my eyes widen. My fear and panic is replaced with a throbbing pain that circulates through my heart. “Mommy,” I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes.

  Monique.

  My mommy.

  She stands next to orderly, her violet eyes pierced with worry and anger. She glares down at him, her pale cheeks flushed. “Fly away little bird,” she says. Her voice is soft yet chilling. “Fly away.”

  Mommy doesn’t have to tell me twice. I flap my wings and take off through the trees, into the shadows, and the dead of the night.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  ~After~

  Months have passed.

  Elijah opens up to me a little more every day.

  And he’s so different when he opens up. It’s like the terrified child locked in the dark closet of his brain is finally able to come outside and play in the light. When I see him happy, it makes me happy. And I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Mainly because Daddy always had a way of cutting my happiness short in the past. Or making sure it didn’t exist at all.

  Elijah and I are leaving for the beach today. He’s full of surprises. I think he’s trying to make up for all of the time we both lost as children.

  I stand in his study and point to the watch on my wrist. We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago and have been put behind because he’s been on the phone for the last forty five. He holds up his finger, telling me it will only be another minute and I walk around the right side of his desk. I brush my fingertips over a newspaper, the article on the front page jumps out at me and I slide the paper closer to me. There are flames on the front page. Muted gray and black flames. There was a fire somewhere. My eyes sweep over the picture, but just when I start reading the article, Elijah comes up behind me, breathes down my neck, and his hands slip around my waist. His lips are against my ear and his nose nuzzles my hair. “You smell wonderful.” He takes a deep breath. “Is that the shampoo I bought?”

  “Yes. The lavender shampoo.” I told him about my ritual with mommy when I was a child and he went a little crazy with all the lavender scented perfumes, lotions, and shampoos after that. But I don’t mind. Especially because I love the scent so much.

  His hands slide up the back of my beach dress and he grips my waist. “I want you so bad right now.” His words rumble in my ears. “Can’t the beach wait another hour?”

  “I suppose,” I whisper. I think about how bad I want him too.

  I think about his hands all over me, touching and car
essing my bare skin. I think about his mouth in sacred places. And his body fused to mine as we call out each other’s names. I love it when Elijah and I make love. Because he makes love in different way than Damien did. Not that I didn’t love making love with Damien, but Elijah is more manly about it. More aggressive. Damien was always so gentle. He treated me like a china doll and he always asked me if he was hurting me. Sometimes I think he thought he was going to break me.

  In one swift motion, Elijah scoops me up, positioning my legs around his back. Then he takes his right arm and clears the desk before lying me back on it. He unbuttons my dress slowly.

  One.

  Button.

  At.

  A.

  Time.

  He kisses me sensually, his tongue flicking mine gently before his lips find my ear, he yanks me by the hips against his pelvis, and whispers in a voice as smooth as melted chocolate, “I’m going to fuck you, Adelaide.” I bite my lip and arch my back. “Would you like that, Adelaide?”

  “Yes,” I moan and writhe beneath him as he removes his shirt. He fists the side of my underwear and I can hear the echo of them ripping somewhere in my mind. This man is rough, but I love it. He’s cold but little by little, I know I’m melting the ice in his veins.

  He jerks me upright by the waist and his tongue traces a line on my lips. “I love you,” he breathes into my mouth. “I never thought I’d ever say that to a woman.”

  “I love you too” I say.

  I never thought I’d tell a man that twice.

  TEASER FROM THE FINAL BOOK IN THE ASYLUM TRILOGY

  BEAUTIFUL NIGHTMARES

  Beautiful Nightmares

  MARCH 1957

  I am a mother.

  I have a child.

  I am married to a wonderful, wonderful man.

  I never thought I’d be able to say those things to myself.

  Willow has been fussing for hours.

  I rock her against my chest.

  I sing her a song Mommy used to sing me. “Little bird, little bird spread your wings and fly. Little bird, little bird soar through the sky.”

  Elijah has been working the midnight shift so I hate to wake him and have him take her for a drive. We usually take turns. When we first met, he told me he didn’t want kids. I laugh at that now. And I think part of the reason he said he didn’t want to be a father is because he was terrified of turning out like his own.

  He’s an amazing father and Willow, who is only six months old, has him wrapped around her tiny finger.

  Willow cries a lot. The pediatrician says its colic and the only way I can get her to stop fussing is by taking her for a drive in the car. The gentle hum of the engine is like a lullaby for my beautiful baby girl and it amazes me how she can look so different when she’s sleeping.

  I’ve been driving now for almost a year and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the liberating feeling that comes with it. I love to drive with the windows down. I love feeling the wind tousle my hair. I love how the car makes me feel like I’m a bird and that I can fly anywhere.

  Willows’ cries turn into shrieks and I start bouncing her on my hip. “All right, all right,” I tell her in a sing-song voice. “Mommy is moving as fast as she can.”

  After grabbing my purse, the car keys, and buckling Willow into her car seat, I turn the car around and speed down the driveway. And within minutes, I check on Willow through the mirror and she’s already fast asleep.

  I admire my beautiful daughter who resembles her father in more ways than she resembles me. She has his hair. His complexion. His lips. The only feature of mine she has are my eyes.

  She’s a happy baby for the most part. Except for when she’s crying because of the colic. I continue to watch her sleep through the mirror and remember when she was born. I remember Elijah’s domineering yet excited behavior. And how he insisted on being in the room with me while I was giving birth. I remember the moment they placed Willow on my bare chest and how in that moment I thought that I could never love another person as much as I loved the tiny human I’d just brought into the world.

  And when they placed Willow in Elijah’s arms, I saw one of his rare smiles. The one that touches his honey eyes and I knew neither one of us could be happier than we were in that moment.

  Willow fidgets in her sleep and witnessing her tiny movements melts my heart. I know I should be paying attention to the road. That was one of Elijah’s favorite things to stress during my driving lessons. “Eyes on the road at all times,” he’s say.

  But I can’t help the overwhelmed feeling I get whenever I stare at my child. Mostly because I’m always wondering how I could have brought something so beautiful and perfect into the world. I can’t but feel the love for her swell inside of me every day and sometimes I wonder if at some point, I’ll be so full of love that I’ll explode.

  Up ahead I hear the faint sound of tires screeching and drop my gaze to the windshield, just in time to prevent myself from hitting a man. The car ahead of me swerved off the road and the man is still standing in front of my car.

  I see him.

  I mean really see him and my heart stops beating.

  My blood runs cold.

  Every hair on my arms stands at attention.

  No…

  It can’t be.

  It’s impossible.

  The man stands before me, a silver locket laced through his fingers. I watch the locket swing back and forth, back and forth. My eyes travel up the length of his body and I choke on a sob when I look into hateful eyes.

  This can’t be happening.

  I saw him…

  I saw him go away.

  Didn’t I?

  The man lets out a malicious laugh and I know now more than ever that he’s not a fabrication of my mind.

  “No,” I cry and shake my head. “No.”

  Willow finally wakes up, realizing the car has stopped and begins wailing. But I tune her out. I’m too focused on the man in front of me, clutching my locket. My locket!

  The same man who inflicted years and years and year of pain, heartbreak, and terror on me. The man who was supposed to love me because I’m a part of him.

  My daddy.

  Other Books by Lauren Hammond

  12 Rounds

  Insanity

  If I Can’t Have You

  A Whisper To A Scream

  He Loves Me…He Loves You Not

  Asphodel

  Famished

  Infect Me

  Lauren Hammond is the Amazon Bestselling author of If I Can’t Have You and He Loves Me…He Loves You Not. She serves as the Executive Literary Manager for ADA Management Group, representing a group of extremely talented writers. When she’s not writing she can be found at any random coffee shop or perusing the YA section at her local bookstore.

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