![[Del]'s Diary](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/5444006-256-k355592.jpg)
[Del]'s Diary
- Leituras 5,428
- Votos 353
- Capítulos 101
"Del" wakes up drugged in a seemingly empty hospital -- locked in a room. Everything she has ever known has been deleted: her memories, her identity, even her name. But then the night visits start and she begins to be tortured by memories that could not possibly hers: the tragic memories of several victims of the CIA's infamous MKULTRA project.
EXCERPT:
The bed lurches, and swings and I am gliding. A cold breeze rushes in on the stagnate room as lights float over me as I try not to stir. Electric currents course through my body. I’m certain Fill will notice the goose bumps on my arms as we swing round a corner and my flesh begins to crawl.
The rat runs wild in my stomach like it’s being chased towards a trap with poisoned cheese.
Fill must notice something is up. He slows down my carriage and bears down on me. I can make out his shadow through my lids, his head hinged to mine, and I suppress the instinct to pinch my eyes shut.
“What are you up to?” he asks with a voice greased with the sound of motorcaws.
He stares down at me for a moment, but then jingles the keys again.
My heart starts to thump. I hear the turning of the handle. What am I so afraid of? And how can I be afraid of something I don’t even remember what it is?
At the head of my bed again, I feel Fill over me. He grips either side of my pillow. The dry edges, I pray.
I can smell the man of him now. Somehow, I know it is a smell I have bathed in in the past.
I can’t believe he doesn’t hear the pounding of my heart, see it beating violently against my chest. But it’s not Fill I’m afraid of. I’m numb to his attention. It’s the door that scares me. Or, rather, the total blackness behind it.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” he says as wheels me in. I can feel the rat dig his heels into the walls of my stomach, and scramble up my esophagus, clawing its way through my throat and out my teeth.
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Room Sixteen
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An uptight and unforgiving single father tells a young reporter, the story of his second wife and himself. A story that is hidden behind a national fight against the war on drugs. Reliving moments that were just as painful as they were joyous, never rethinking his decisions but watching them rip him apart for a second time. He informs the reporter on moments that tell his version of the story. A story that his wife couldn't tell. Remembering his love for some and his irrational behavior towards others. attempting to teach lessons that he never learned himself. **************** "Vincenzo," she stood over me, "please. Please. Please." I nodded, I looked down at Constance, then I looked back at her. She looks like a bomb ready to detonate, it's over. I stood up and put Constance in his cot, he began to giggle at the sight of the mobile. His fist in his mouth admiring the hanging sea creatures, dolphins, whales, and turtles. I looked back at Evangeline, she was breathing heavily and losing all control. She plopped down on the bed, and I moved from the cot to look at her. Once my feet stood in front of her she took her ring off and threw it at me. It hit my chest. It fell right on my slipper. She was growing with hysteria. Her fingers running through her hair. I was frozen, she was heaving and she fell from the bed onto her knees. She crawled to the corner of the room, in between the wall and the dresser. Her red shirt rubbing against the green walls of the bedroom. Her shoulder grazed the beige dresser, making scratches on her arms and she didn't care. I looked down at the ring sitting on my foot, to my Evangeline. My mouth hung open but I couldn't say anything, the only noise in the room was the scraping of Evangeline's shoulder and the little giggles escaping the cot. My money was on my foot, but my heart split across the room." -Chp 15
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