Royal Havoc

23. Silent Insanity

twenty-three

Silent Insanity

Tulip: 2011 Age: 14 ⒈／⒉

T he silence filling my room helps settle the crawling beneath my skin. Panic hovers in the corner, waiting for a crack in the calm so it can seep in and set me on edge.

I hate today. Every year, it comes, and every year, my hate grows.

My anniversary, the day I was given away.

Unanswered questions, along with what ifs and whys, cluster in my brain, popping uncontrollably like popcorn.

Dimples is the only thing I want and need today. His fluffy silence soothes my soul.

The slot in the middle of the door slides open, cracking the calm. “Tulip, the doctor wants to see you,” Dan informs me, watching through the small glass window above the slot.

Panic seizes its moment, seeping through my unguarded pores, clawing at my lungs. “Not today,” I answer slowly, air bleeding from my punctured lungs.

“He gave strict orders,” Dan responds, letting me see the apology in his eyes.

My feet feel too heavy as I hold my arms out, spinning around. Muscle memory has me pulling out my pockets.

“All clear,” he announces, opening the door.

I shuffle past him, ignoring my shoes. I’m too stricken by the crawling under my skin to care.

Bolton's sitting in the chair when we enter his office. “Thank you, Dan,” he says before dismissing him. “Please sit,” he offers, gesturing to the sofa.

I perch myself on the edge of the cushion, fidgeting with my nails. All my efforts spent battling with the rage brewing in my gut.

“This couldn’t be re-scheduled. Breathe. Control the greed. Remember your patience,” he instructs, fueling my chaotic insides.

Pulling my sleeves over my palms, protecting them from my nails. “I want to be alone,” I hiss hatefully.

A knock on the door startles me, swirling the chaos I’m struggling to contain. His head tilts, eyes pleading with me to gain control.

After I’ve taken a few breaths, he calls, “Enter.” Then stands, grasping his hands behind his back.

The door opens, and reality slaps me in the face, spinning the world around my lifeless body. Neither of us speaks.

“Would you like to sit?” Dr. Bolton asks, cutting the charged silence growing between us.

She finally breathes. “My sweet baby,” she rasps dryly.

“You let him give me away.” I counter softly, completely entranced by the ghost in front of me.

Tears leak from her pale blue eyes, matching mine. “I didn’t know,” she tries to assure me softly. “I miss you so much. I —”

“Why didn’t you save me?” I question.

Before she can answer, the door opens again, and I’m staring at him.

“You lied,” I accuse, raising my voice. “Why did you leave me?”

“Bringing you here was your Gramps idea. This is his place,” Dad throws out, watching me with disgust.

“What?” Searching both of their faces. My head snaps to the side. “Is it true?” I ask the doctor.

“Yes,” he answers simply, without any emotions.

Mom steps towards me. “I wasn’t allowed to see you. But I fixed it. I gave it all away. I’ll visit now,” she rushes, more tears falling.

I step back, shaking my head. “You’re leaving me here?”

“You tried to —”

“No,” I cry, cutting Dad off. “It was an accident.”

“Stop lying,” he barks. “All you do is lie,” he growls evilly.

“I hate you,” I shout.

“Good,” he grits. “I’m leaving. There’s nothing here for me.”

Mom flinches when the door slams behind her. “Princess, calm down. I fixed it. I’ll visit,” she promises.

“I never want to see you. You told me you loved me. But you let him give me away. You didn’t save me,” I shout, rage burning my skin.

“Tulip,” Dr. Bolton says sternly.

“I know you’re hurt and mad. But, I love you, princess,” she cries.

My soul bursts, exploding inside me, tiny pieces stabbing my heart. I charge towards her, but someone scoops me up before I reach her. I kick and scream, clawing at the arm holding me, fighting my hardest to get to her.

“Let me go! I hate you!” I scream.

Why won’t my eyes open? And why is my tongue scratching the top of my mouth? I can hardly swallow. What’s wrong with my arms?

“Tulip?” Dr. Bolton’s voice sounds muffled.

“Huh?” I grunt, trying to wake up fully. “Where am I?” I ask, finally able to force my eyes open.

“We’ll talk later. Use this time to reflect on what you did. Your actions. The silence you need to learn how to master,” he clarifies.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Why can’t I move my arms?” I whine, wiggling.

“You’re wearing a straight jacket. To keep you from hurting yourself,” he explains before I hear the slot on the door slide open.

“Please don’t leave me here,” I cry as the door slams shut. Sealing me in my own version of silent insanity.