Beautiful Nightmares (The Asylum Trilogy) (13 page)

Chapter One

The Deep South…

The twangy accents.

Confederate flags sailing through the air.

Sometimes it’s like another world.

Or another planet entirely.

I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi in 1934 to Mabel and James (Bud) O’Reilly. I’m their only daughter and according to my mother, her only saving grace. You see, I’m what she’s always hoped for, a dainty graceful southern belle in the making who’ll marry well, act like a lady, and never shame the family name.

Except I’m not.

I’ve never been like my mother.

I’ve never wanted to be.

I don’t want to live someone else’s dreams.

I want to live my own.

The year is 1950 and I’ve just turned sixteen.

You know what that means?

That means that this glorious year, I’ll be introduced to society as a debutante. Something that I’ve been dreading since my mother brought it up six months ago. During a luncheon with a few of her women’s league friends I’d been picking at my salad, when my mother first mentioned it. Then she patted my forearm. I smiled politely, turned my head and scowled. Whether it was proper for a southern belle or not, there was no way I was going to let Mabel O’Reilly, shove me into some frilly, frou-frou dress and parade me around in front of society like a poodle at a dog show.

I don’t want to be a purebred

I’d rather be a mutt.

“Aurora!” mother’s voice bleeds through the pale pink walls of my bedroom. “I have a surprise for you!”

Damn it.

The click clack of her heels sound offs against the wooden floors. “I promise you, darling, you’re going to love it!”

A bout of nausea whips through my stomach when I realize she’s only a few feet away from my bedroom. With frantic heart beats and trembling fingers, I slide open my window at the exact same time my mother’s fist connects with the door. “Open up, sweetheart!” Her voice has a light airy feel to it. She’s in a good mood. That’s about to change in a minute.

I stare down at the two story drop from my bedroom and tell myself that I’d rather jump out this window than see what surprise my mother has in store for me. Even though part of me has a feeling that her surprise will be a puffy white dress that she’s selected for me to wear to the Biloxi debutante ball.

The door cracks open revealing a sliver of my mother’s profile. I take that as my cue.
Oh hell’s bells
. I’d rather break both my legs jumping out this window than try on that hideous dress. I plummet from my window at the same time my mother says, “Aurora, darling, are you in here?”

My back slams into the ground first, hard. My abrupt impact knocks the wind out of my lungs and I choke out the breath lodged in my throat. I continue gasping, willing my lungs to start working again.

I sit up; still in a daze at the same time my mother pokes her head out my window. “Aurora, what are you doing down there?” She holds a white dress up in the window and my eyes widen.

My lips press into a straight line. That dress is uglier and gaudier than I thought it would be. With its poufy white sleeves, full ruffled skirt, and bodice adorned with little gems and knick-knacks. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” mother gushes. A wide smile stretches on her full rosy lips. “Now come back inside so I can see you in it.”

I hope to my feet. “Sorry to disappoint you, mother.”

The smile falls from her lips. “What?”

At that moment, I take off running. I run fast, ignoring the burn in my lungs and the stiffness in my joints.

“Aurora Jean!” mother shouts, her voice carrying on the wind. “You get back here this instant!” I glance over my shoulder at my mother’s whose body is tensed, a frown residing on her lips. “Just wait until your father hears about this!”

She always uses my father as a threat. It’s funny though, because he only pretends to be upset about my non-girly qualities. Secretly, when mother isn’t around, he’ll nudge my shoulder and wink. I think he likes the fact that I have no interest in my mother’s agenda for me. I think he wants me to forge my own path in life. However it infuriates me to no end that he never speaks up about it.

Picking up speed, I sprint through the plowed fields behind our plantation-like home, heading for the stretch of trees dotting the far end of our property. There’s a creek there. And a dock. And that’s where I go to think. It’s where I go to escape Mabel and her wicked plans for my life.

Stopping to catch my breath, I push back the canopy of mossy branches hanging off one of the trees and step into a clearing. A smile curls on my lips. There’s a boy sitting on the dock, his back to me. He’s wearing denim coveralls, one strap in undone and dangles at the top of his hip.  He tilts his head to the side and I can see he’s chewing on a wheat toothpick. He has no shirt on beneath the coveralls and the sun peaking down through the trees highlights the muscle definition in his back.

With trembling knees, I take a step forward and his head whips around, his chin to his shoulder. I’m staring into his powder blue eyes that remind me of the skyline at noon. Long dark lashes frame his eyes and dimples in his tan cheeks accent the smirk on his lips.

I walk down the dock, stopping when I’m standing next to him. His eyes trail up my legs, my hips, my chest, stopping when they rest on my face. I place my hand on my hips and purse my lips. “You again,” I tsk and shake my head, “Can’t you read the sign on the tree?” I point over my shoulder to a red and white sign nailed to one of the trees. “It says this is private property. No trespassing.”

A deep chuckle vibrates in his throat. “Is that so?” He cocks an eyebrow at me. “I guess I didn’t see it.”

Then in one swift motion he juts his arm out and sweeps my legs out from under me. My backside hits the wooden dock with a thud and surges of pain shoot down my thighs. “Damn you, Edward Morrison!” I curse with a growl and rub my rear end. I sit up and punch him hard in his toned bicep. “That hurt!”

He’s laughing. The throaty vibration echoes off the trees and swells between us. “You can dish it out, Rory, but you sure can’t take it.”

I pull a Mabel O’Reilly move and shake my hair from my shoulders, holding my nose high in the air. “That’s because I’m a lady.”

Edward snorts. “Since when?” Edward and I have been best friends since we were two toddlers flinging sand at each other in the sand box. His mother and my mother have been friends since they were teenagers and every time Edward’s mother, Eleanor came to visit, she’d bring Edward with her, being that we were close in age.

On top of that, he only lives a few houses down from us now. They moved into the old Walton’s planation about eight years ago.

I scowl at him, dismissing the subject, snatching one of the wooden fishing poles that’s propped up on the dock next to him. “Give me that.”

He half bows in a joking manner and I fight back the urge to slug him again. “Anything for you, your highness.” His voice is deep. Thick. A river of hot fudge on a scoop of vanilla ice cream that I like over indulge myself with.

A lot.

“So how is the famous, Mabel O’Reilly?” he asks in a joking manner.

I ponder the answer to his question then shrug. “You know, she’s Mabel O’Reilly.” The epitome of southern perfection.

My mother is the type of woman who walks with her shoulders back, greets people with a beauty queen wave, and dresses impeccably. She always has something polite to say. Is the ultimate party hostess. And has a four course meal on the table every night.

Edward nods because he knows exactly what I mean by my answer. His mother is the same way. Most of the time, when we sneak off to see each other we complain about our mothers incessant obsessions with pretending to be perfect. “She’s been on me a lot lately,” I tell him. “Because of the Biloxi Debutante Ball.” I try to imitate my mother and wave my hand at him. “Don’t you know that this is a pivotal point in a young lady’s life? And by God, every member of the Biloxi council and even the mayor will be there!”

Edward chuckles and throws his line out into the water. “I had to be an escort so I’m not even sympathizing with your plight. If I had to do it then so should you.”

I nudge his shoulder. “It’s not the same.” I watch the muscles in his jaw flex as he rolls the long strand of wheat over his tongue. “You’re a boy.”

He shrugs. “So. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to be there. I would have rather been down here fishing with you.”

Redness flushes in my cheeks. I throw my line out and look away from him. I don’t want him to see me flustered.

Last summer our relationship changed. For the better or worse, that’s something I’m not sure of yet.

For as long as I can remember we used to sneak out of our beds right after a thunderstorm and meet each other at the creek to watch the lightning bugs dance along the water of the creek. It’s a beautiful sight. When the bugs flit across the waters it looks like the surface is glittering. After we’d sit together and talk about silly things and complain about our parents, Edward would walk me back to my house and help me climb back up to my bedroom window.

But that night he decided to be playful.

He said, “Let’s race.”

I scoffed, “You know I’ll beat you.”

There was a mischievous glint in his powdery eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

I shook my head and got down into my running stance and waited for him to give the command, but when he finally gave the command I took off and he didn’t move. Instead he stayed behind, swept his arm out and grabbed my ankle. “What the?”

Before I knew it I was falling, my right foot jutted out and knocked Edward off balance.

He wobbled.

Tried to catch his balance.

Then he fell.

Right on top of me.

I frowned up at him. “You mule,” I snapped. “What the hell was that for?”

He had this awestruck look on his face, like he’d never really seen me before. Our eyes locked with a deep unwavering gleam of intensity in them. With steady fingers, and his warm body pressed against mine, he exhaled and brushed my strands of hair away from my face. “Rory,” he breathed and I felt a surge of anxiety trail through my nerves at the husky tone in his voice. Then he kissed me.

Edward kissed me.

His moist lips rested a top of mine and I wasn’t sure how to react. I did the opposite of what I assume most girls would have done. I pressed my lips together. My skin felt like it was on fire.

“Relax,” Edward murmured against my lips.

And I tried.

Really, really tried.

I closed my eyes, hoping the butterflies in my stomach would subside, and let out a breath into Edward’s mouth and he took that as an invitation. He slid his tongue into my mouth and that’s when something clicked in my brain. I began to reciprocate the kiss, one hundred percent certain that I wasn’t doing anything right.

The kiss itself…

It felt weird yet right.

Sloppy but beautiful.

Like a deep bond was branded onto our hearts.

Edward hoisted me up into his lap by the thick straps of my dress. My fingers skimmed the bare skin just above the rounded collar of his wife beater and his hands trailed up my back, getting tangled in my long hair. Our kissing became less sloppy and more desperate. I pulled away breathless, resting my head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, “Edward,” I say trying to steady my breathing. “What are we doing?” I swallow hard. “Why did you do that?”