Page 43 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Avery

Despite laying on the most comfortable bed I've experienced in years, I don't sleep a wink.

Jillian woke a little after first morning light, the two of us heading to the dining hall for a quick breakfast and gathering snacks for the room. Yes, snacks.

The camp-style buffet was correctly described, the food outshining Lilydale's regular menu by far.

Last night they offered Sloppy Joes, salad, baked vegetables, and some vegetarian alternatives—something that had plant protein and tofu.

As wonderful and inclusive as it sounded, no one was going to stop me from diving face first into a Sloppy Joe.

In hindsight, I should probably feel a little grateful that the guys weren't here to witness the massacre.

I'm certain toddlers eat more dignified and graceful than I did last night.

In the dining hall, there's a long table that fills much of a side wall.

Snacks are scattered throughout, housing everything from chocolates to potato chips, miniature bags of popcorn, Twinkies, pretzels and fresh fruit.

I grabbed a few packets of jelly beans and M&Ms to take back to the room while Jillian opted for Reese's and potato chips .

Neither of us had any desire to check out the recreational rooms yet, not even after finding out there was a computer lab. I asked Jillian why she doesn't try to contact Byrone, but all she said was that it wouldn't work at the moment.

I tried not to let my disappointment show.

Truthfully, I was hoping that if she could reach him, it would also give me a direct line to the guys.

But short of using some type of messaging app, the chances of us being able to have everyone online at once was slim—that's if they even have access to computers.

The guys could be anywhere. When we left Lilydale, they still hadn't been provided with details of their upcoming transfer, and as far as I knew, they hadn't been told where we were going either.

Do people still email? Maybe Jillian could do that if Byrone had an email address.

Except I have no damn email addresses to contact the guys.

I imagine it would be something like littlekiller69 or touch-me-and-die but there was the possibility that the men didn't go somewhere as nice as Ridgeview Valley.

Maybe they went to a prison or a stricter facility where they can't just roam freely and stuff themselves stupid with snacks.

The only way I could have potentially contacted them was the cells. But naturally, they were confiscated prior to our departure from Lilydale. So with each passing hour, I feel myself fading a little more.

What if I never see them again? What's going to happen to all of us ?

From what we were told by Ris, this facility had to discharge some existing patients voluntarily to make room for us.

They initially didn't have enough beds to accommodate all of us, but they managed to make room so that we wouldn't be split up among multiple facilities.

And to lessen the burden on the social work team assigned to the Lilydale patients by the investigation agency, they decided it was just easier to separate us by men and women for now.

I understand the logic, I really do. But it still doesn't make it hurt any less.

By mid-afternoon, Jillian and I agree to go for a walk for the sake of our mental health. Even though she's not showing it, I know she's struggling just as much as I am. Everyone is.

We could take away all the fucked-up nonsense that happened and it would still be a challenge to adjust. We went from strict routines and being treated like a problem, to suddenly given the freedom to do what we want—well, almost.

Change is never easy at the best of times. This… this is torture.

Eventually, Jillian declares she's done peopling and heads back to our room. I choose to stay outside, distracting myself. It's all I have right now, especially when they have asked us to consider speaking to some of the in-house psychiatrists. I don't even know where to begin.

I explore some of the rec rooms and to my surprise, I run into Vivian, Siobhan and Eliana in a small reading room. Ignoring the stabbing feeling of library reminders, I invite myself in with their blessing.

The room is about a quarter of the size of the Lilydale library, and aside from the books scattered on the floor, there's no shelves.

I can only assume there's another room with all the books and this is merely the reading space.

Beanbags are spaced out in various bright colors, with motivational posters on the wall.

I blink at one of a golden retriever, grinning with a ball in its mouth and the caption 'Don't be afraid to make mistakes. Life's a ball!'

"Fuck me," I mumble, taking a seat on a bright lemon colored bag next to Vivian and Eliana. "The toxic positivity is practically dripping through the walls here."

Eliana laughs quietly. "It's humbling, that's for sure."

The four of us are in some lame attempt at a circle, and I take a second to scan all of them. We all wear the same exhausted expression, run down with misery that no one can shake off. It's sickening when you think about it.

This place is everything we needed. Supportive, caring, freeing. Yet, it's nothing but a reminder of the hell we survived.

Survived physically, I mean. Because inside, I'm barely keeping it together.

Time will heal us, but the reality is we will always carry the scars. I hate that we've been bonded by trauma and have finally found something relatable to each other—torture.

"They want us to be happy," Vivian points out. "It's killing me."

Siobhan nods. "These assholes have no idea. None."

"They really don't," I agree. "But at least they care, I guess."

"Do they?" Siobhan snorts. "Or is it just another trick to confuse us?"

I frown. Are we that messed up that we can't even let people care about us without questioning if there's an ulterior motive?

I get it. Dr. Cromwell kept telling me the experimentation was for the greater good—to help people.

People like Arthur Whittingham promised to save me… just for us to find out it was a lie.

No wonder we don't have the ability to see good anymore. Every single time we thought we found it, it turned out to be a fake fantasy. Or disguised while people used and hurt us.

"I think…" Vivian starts quietly. "They genuinely do care. But we're too broken to be fixed."

Flashbacks of her mental health following Sam's death swirl in my mind. She stares at me, as if knowing where my mind is at.

"I'm fine," she tells me. "Just over everything."

"I get it," I reply. "I really do. But you know what? They don't get to have that. We went through hell and those assholes don't deserve to still have a hold on us."

Vivian lifts an eyebrow in disbelief. "Easy for you to say, Avery. At least you have something to look forward to. I have no one. "

"You have me," I shoot back. "And look, while I won't pretend that Sam was a good person, I know you were grieving. I know you probably went through shit before Lilydale and then you had to deal with that. Not to mention what they did to us downstairs."

The three of us shift awkwardly, clearly recalling their own experiences.

"Avery is right," Eliana murmurs softly. "We didn't deserve that. And maybe now's our chance for a new beginning. A do-over."

"Why bother?" Siobhan huffs, folding her arms. "All I've got left is a dead brother and a mind that drives me insane."

"You have the chance to tell them motherfuckers to go fuck themselves," I point out. "Don't let them win. We're worth more than that."

Vivian sighs, sliding back into her key lime beanbag. "I just hate how chirpy they all are. It was easier dealing with cranky bastards all the time. At least the food is better. Well…" she trails off, glancing at me knowingly.

"Tony's food was the fucking shit," I mumble, not wanting to dwell on the subject. Vivian was ejected from Cirque des Morts, and I don't blame her for any ill feelings of missing out on the food we got to indulge in. "At least they have snacks. And we can wear jeans."

I nod toward my denim shorts and oversized tee.

Ris took us to the closet and let us pick up a few pieces each before showing us where the laundry was.

We have to do our own naturally, but at least it's free and there's a range of clothing variety.

I can't help but notice that none of the Lilydale patients opted for anything gray shaded.

Eliana is in bright pink and blue, while Vivian and Siobhan are wearing black shorts and shirts.

"We aren't stuck in the rooms," Vivian adds quietly, and I'm happy to hear some improvement in her tone.

"Who did you end up bunking with?" I ask everyone.

Siobhan points to Vivian, while Eliana mentions another Lilydale patient.

"She snores," Siobhan scoffs, eyeing Vivian.

"And you talk in your sleep," she shoots back. "Tough shit."

They glare at each other for a few seconds before breaking out in faint smiles, obviously just as happy not to be alone as I am.

"You know," Eliana starts. "I heard a rumor from my counselor. Apparently, they might end up reopening our cases."

Vivian's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"They are trying to figure out what to do with all of us. And given some of the initial findings from Lilydale, they might be allowing appeals so our sentences can be adjusted. Otherwise, it's putting pressure on the facilities to accommodate everyone. So, some of us might go free."

"Free?" I repeat. "But we all have mental health disorders. How would that work? "

Eliana shrugs. "I'm only speculating of course, but some may end up staying here. Voluntarily or involuntarily. I'm not sure. There's a lot of things to work out apparently. It's going to take some time."

My heart sinks. "How much time?"

"Probably months," Vivian sighs. "Nothing gets done quickly in the legal system. I waited six months before I even had my trial."

Six months…

I don't know if I can last six months.

Siobhan grumbles. "No one will let me go. Besides, where would I even go? I got no family, no money."

"Whatever is meant to happen, will happen. Life always works out," I say, earning a glare from the three of them.

"Argh," Vivian groans. "Stop being chirpy and optimistic, Avery. It's gross," she jokes.

"I'd be happy too if I was getting dicked down by three guys," Siobhan says.

Eliana's eyes light up. "Did it ever happen… you know… at the same time?"

"What?" I laugh awkwardly. "How did this turn into a discussion about my sex life?"

"Oh, it so did," Vivian snorts. "It's written all over your face."

"Shut up," I snap, but end up laughing with the rest of them .

Siobhan leans back, folding her hands behind her head. "I'd maybe… stay here for a bit if I got offered the choice," she admits.

"What?" Vivian gawks at her. "You would stay in a facility?"

"Maybe," she shrugs. "I dunno. I'd want to… maybe get better."

There's uncertainty and embarrassment in her tone, but I can't help but smile, nodding at her. "I want to get better too," I chime in. "We all deserve to heal."

"Yeah, we do," Eliana agrees. "It will take time, but we'll get there."

Vivian stays quiet, staring at the ceiling in thought. I lean over, placing my hand on her forearm.

"You're a good person, Vee. You get to call the shots for your life now."

She looks at me warily. "I really am sorry, Avery. For everything."

"Me too," I breathe out in relief at the mended gap between us, squeezing her arm.

"We're not hugging though," Vivian snorts, looking over at Siobhan, amused. "I draw the toxic positivity line at physical affection. This one sleepwalks and near spooned me to death last night."