Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) (48 page)
Read Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) Online
Authors: Angeline Kace
After checking to make sure that I’m alone, I let out a slow breath and pull the blade from my pocket. I slowly sit down with my back against the wall and pull my sleeves up. I shake with the anticipation of the relief that I know is coming. The razor glides across my skin and the sting nearly sends me into a trance. But the trance is fleeting. So I cut again, and again, over and over, craving the single moment of physical pain. I don’t notice the blood pooling around me and I don’t even hear the screams. All I know is that there is relief for a tiny second in time and I don’t care if I have to cut every inch of my body, because I need it like I need air to breathe.
“Mr. and Mrs. Baker I’m glad that you could join us today,” Dr. Stacey says with a genuine smile.
It’s been a month since my melt down in history class. A month without a blade of any kind, not even a butter knife. A month of therapy, observation by Dr. Stacey and the other staff of Mercy Psychiatric Facility. A month of deciding the best course of action for treatment. One month, and my life is forever changed.
“Do you know anything about Bipolar disorder?” She asks my parents.
Both shake their heads and I watch as my dad leans forward, adopting his
I’m listening
posture. I slump down in my chair and try to keep from drawing their attention. I dread the looks of worry and pity that I know will be on their faces after this conversation.
“Bipolar disorder is a mental health caused by certain chemicals in the brain become imbalanced. Some are depleted and some become overproduced. Patients suffering from bipolar disorder experience sever mood swings, hence the name. In severe cases it can be similar to schizophrenia. It can be difficult to diagnose because people often seek help only when they are depressed. Generally, the mood swings don’t happen hourly or even daily like you might think. A person with bipolar disorder will be depressed for months, sometimes years, and then they will swing the other direction, to what we call mania. Again, just as the depression can last years, so can the manic phase.” She takes a deep breath and glances over at me. I’m thankful that the look on her face is one of concern, but not of defeat. I avoid looking at my parents. I don’t want to see the pain or fear in their eyes—the same pain I saw the night they brought me to Mercy. I don’t want to see those looks on their faces ever again.
“The main thing you need to know is that it is very treatable. While it can take a while to find an effective combination of medications, Tally can lead a normal life if she remains on them and does therapy as needed. Over time she will likely have to have her medicine adjusted periodically. But as long as she takes care of herself, she will be able to manage the disease rather than the disease managing her.”
My parents are silent. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mom shift nervously. My father is motionless. I can’t tell what thoughts are running through their heads. I try not to shift in my own chair but the silence is beginning to make me uncomfortable. Finally, my mom speaks and her words rip wider the already bleeding hole inside of me.
“How long will she be this way?”
I feel the familiar rush of anger that has been out of my control and grip the arms of my chair to keep from jumping up and telling them both to go to hell. I grind my teeth in an attempt to keep my mouth shut and try to take slow breaths like Dr. Stacey showed me.
Dr. Stacey sidesteps the questions and continues on with her explanation of my diagnosis. “We are beginning a combination of medicines that has proven to work well for other bipolar patients and we hope that it will help level her out. It takes several weeks for the medicine to get in her system so we won’t know for about a month if the medicines are going to help. My suggestion is that she stays here through the summer. She needs to learn how to deal with the emotions that make her feel out of control in a healthy way.” Her face grows serious. “I need you to understand that your daughter is not defective, she is not fragile or broken, though she may feel that way. What she needs most from you is for you to treat her normally. If you make her feel like there is something wrong with her then you will hinder her therapy.”
“I’m right here you know,” I grumble.
Dr. Stacey gives me a brief smile. She is very good at dealing with my surly attitude and I have to admit that there are days that I purposely try to provoke her, though I don’t understand why.
My mom turns to look at me. Her face is blank. Any emotion a mother might show for her daughter in such a difficult situation is absent and I feel it to the depths of my messed up soul.
“We love you,” her words are clipped and sound about as full of love as dried and wasted desert is full of water. “We expect you to do your best to fix this,” she continues, “so that another embarrassing situation doesn’t arise again.”
I nod, but I don’t speak. I know that if I do I will break down completely. I’m so angry and it’s so easy for others to become the object of my wrath, deserved or not.
When the meeting is over my parents both give me awkward hugs but there are no promises of calling and checking in and no lies of understanding of how hard this must be for me. Mom passes on a letter from Natalie, my best friend, and tells me that she’ll be by later that week.
“Tally,” Dr. Stacey’s voice has me stopping before I can exit her office. I turn to look at her and I can instantly see that, as usual, she sees much more than I want her to.
“It’s okay to be angry; it’s what you do with that anger that matters.”
My eyes are empty. I know they are empty because I am empty. I am empty and nothing seems to fill the void. “Whatever you say, doc.”
Her lips purse as she gives me a solemn nod. “How about you take some time to yourself? You can spend time in your room, or anywhere else you can find some peace.”
I’m surprised by her suggestion because we aren’t typically allowed to spend much alone time during the day. Doc says it’s because alone time fosters self-pity and depression. Personally, I think they just like watching the crazies interact with one another. It can be quite entertaining when a yelling match ensues over who was using the color pencils first. Yes, I said color pencils. Scary, I know.
I make it back to my room without incident. By the time I walk in my breathing is shallow and I’m biting my lip to keep back the tears. Tears make me angry because they are just one more reminder of how broken I feel. I shut the door behind me and slide to the cold, hard floor. I pull my long sleeves up and stare down at my arms. The cuts are almost all healed, but the scars left behind will always be a silent reminder that I am fragmented, unable to be solid and whole. I will never wear short sleeves again. I close my eyes and search for something inside me that I recognize, anything to remind me that I wasn’t always this way, I wasn’t always such a mess. I don’t even recognize myself anymore and every day I seem to fade even more. The worst part, the absolute worst part, is that I don’t understand why I feel this way. Why do I feel like the end of the world is one step away? Why does breathing hurt and why does despair seem to be my only friend? What has happened that could possibly make me feel so completely and utterly damaged. My parents haven’t always been so cold and distant. They were never the most affectionate people, but they weren’t so awful to cause me to have a complete and total meltdown of outrageous proportion.
I bang my head against the door as I begin to feel the constant rush of emotions that I don’t know how to restrain boiling up inside. I don’t want to be this person.
“WHY!” I finally give in and scream. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!” I’m rocking now and I know that I should stop. I’m telling myself to stop but I can’t. The flood gates are open and nothing will close them until I’m utterly exhausted. I thrust my hands into my hair and pull, feeling a slight measure of relief from the emotional agony as the physical pain briefly distracts my fragmented mind. I release my hair and begin to scratch my arms until blood is welling up and skin is gathering under my nails. I don’t care; I just don’t want to feel anymore, I don’t want to hurt anymore. I hear myself screaming incoherently, until all that’s left is whimpers.
As I roll to my side and curl up in a ball, I begin to shake as if the temperature had suddenly dropped and a raging blizzard is swirling around me. It’s then that I realize that I’m not broken. Broken implies that I might be able to be fixed. No I’m not broken, I’m shattered beyond repair, beyond hope. I let myself sink into the darkness and welcome the familiar comfort of knowing that I won’t live forever. Someday I will die and this torment will be over.
For more info on Quinn and her books, visit her
website
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Well, this book took me over a year to finish. I wouldn’t have reached this point if it weren’t for some key people in my life.
Brandon, thank you for supporting my work and me. I love you.
To my family, thank you for your support and encouragement.
Heather and Jenn, thank you for always,
always
being there for me in the writing world capacity and as my friends. You two prop me up and give me wings to fly!
Yin, thanks for being the person I want to share my Jell-O with in the nut house and offering to wipe my drool. I’d be lost without you!
Special shout out to Lindsay and Jessica for beta reading, cheering me on, and being the best bloggers, friends, supporters, and just
everything
an author and a girl could ask for. Thank you!
Thanks to Tammy for assisting me in all things Croatian. Mirko appreciates you too. :)
Thanks to my Indie Hellcats; Amy Bartol, Georgia Cates, Lila Felix, Michelle Leighton, Quinn Loftis, Shelly Crane, Rachel Higginson, and Samantha Young. You all are rock stars and such a talented bunch of women. I am blessed to call you all my friends. I love you!
To my Street Team, Angeline’s Awesomes, thank you for your unwavering support, your enthusiasm for me and my books, and going above and beyond for me! I LOVE each one of you:
Alexa, Alicia, Alli, Alyssa, Amanda Hootie, Amanda Miller, Amy Fournier, Amy Schedneck, Andrea Dezan, Andrea Thompson, Angela, April Kirkland, April Smith, Ash, Ashley (Bookish Brunette <3), Autumn, Brenna, Camila, Cary, Cassie, Cassandra, Donna, Gloria, Haley, Heather Youse, Heather Supagurl, Isalys, Jackie @ Book Whisperer, Jackie Stout, Jamie, , Jaskirat, Jenni, Jennifer, Jessica @ Total Bookaholic, Jessica Hansen, Jessica Mclaughlin, Kara, Katja, Kristen, Lindsay, Lisa, Loretta, Mera, Misa, Natalie, Nikki, Shana, Shannon, Sharon, Shirley, Tammy, Tee, Valerie, Wendy, and Zareen.
Last but not least, thank you to my readers. This book reached the finish line because of you. On days when I didn’t feel like I could do this, you were part of what kept me holding on. A book is just words on a page, or in an electronic file. It is each of you who touches these words that gives it life.
Angeline is a Scorpio living in the Rocky Mountains with her husband and dogs. She loves all things paranormal, believes ghosts are real, werewolves aren't, and vampires? Definitely real! At least in the Vampire Born world they are.
She is currently at work on her first New Adult Romance,
Wicked Thing
, which releases Summer 2013.
For information on new releases, giveaways, or anything else to do with Angeline Kace, visit her website at: