| 18+ | Damian looked so different with his shirt off and a crop in his hand. He felt more real: no longer wearing the mask of the good doctor, he was the Exorcist, the master over my wildest fears, the stones on the shore over which my ocean of ma...
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The day of the Adley's Christmas party was upon us, and it truly could not have come soon enough. Ever since I had overheard the conversation between Damian and Amma, I had not felt well. I knew it was anxiety, lurking just beneath my careful, hopeful facade. I didn't want to tell Damian these worries, not this time. I couldn't impose that upon him. He had worries enough already; why would I then make him worry that I was worried that Amma was worried that I might kill him?
It was a vicious, endless cycle of worrying over worry. I felt as if I was going mad again. And the voices...
God...
The voices were back with a vengeance.
I had nearly forgotten how much of a difference Damian had made, until suddenly I felt as if things were as bad as they had been back in the Doll House. The murmurs were endless, the viciousness unbearable. I found myself unable to shut them out, my usual methods failing me. I was distracted, distant. Amma's condition had not improved, and when Damian returned home from work he would tend to her at once. The old woman protested that she could look after herself just fine, but it seemed she grew weaker by the day. The voices drained me so greatly that I often went to bed early and alone, without Damian by my side...
I needed him. I needed his control, his discipline. I hungered for it as if I had been starved. Especially now...now when I was considering the most frightening thing of all.
Now, when I was considering leaving.
To even let such a thought cross my mind made my stomach twist with agony. I didn't want it. I dreaded it. I wanted to cling to this place and this safety with everything I had.
But...though I felt safe here, although Damian had given so much to provide me with security and pleasure and...
Although...although I...
Although I loved him...
Desperately, undeniably, hopelessly loved him, with every fiber of my being...
I knew he was not safe from me. I knew he was in the greatest danger of all. The longer I lingered here, the worse it became. Amma was ill, and though she was still hard at work trying to translate my scars, she had said herself that we did not have time. I felt it. The demons were eager, impatient. How could I even trust myself to sleep, to rest for a mere moment, with the fear that they would assume control? How could I rest knowing I might kill the one I loved?
I couldn't put him in that danger, nor could I tell him my plan. He would try to stop me. His own stubbornness would tell him that he could protect me no matter what. But I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't let him keep putting his own life on the line to try to save me.
I had to leave, and I had to find Dr. Carnickey.
Of all people, he was the most likely to know the names of those who resided in me. He had put the marks in me - perhaps he would know how to get rid of them. It meant going back to New York...it meant searching and desperately hoping he could be found.
