The Sanity Ward

THE SANITY WARD JOHN A. RUSSO The Sanity Ward Kindle Edition Copyright © 2023 (As Revised) John A. Russo Wolfpack Publishing 9850 S. Maryland Parkway, Suite A-5 #323 Las Vegas, Nevada 89183 wolfpackpublishing.com This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews. eBook ISBN 978-1-63977-762-4 Paperback ISBN 978-1-63977-761-7 CONTENTS Get your FREE copy of The Target H Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 A Look at: Day Care Get your FREE copy of The Target H About the Author GET YOUR FREE COPY OF THE TARGET H Join the Wolfpack Publishing mailing list for information on new releases, updates, discount offers and your FREE e-book copy of The Target H. Thanks to our marvelous discovery, we have the means to facilitate awareness, enhance memory and, in general, produce a sensational increase in the efficiency with which the mind works. We are like modern alchemists who have found the true philosopher’s stone, and we will now use it to conjure up amazing perceptions and great leaps of creative imagination that will make yesterday’s flights of genius seem dull and ordinary by comparison. —Dr. Melvin Lieberman, Director of Blue Ridge Hospital * * * In the madhouse wring your hands, press your pale forehead against the wall like a face into a snowdrift. —Natalya Gorbanevskaya THE SANITY WARD 1 There was something greedy, something selfish about Aaron’s lovemaking that Jenny had never noticed before. She tried hard to pretend it wasn’t there. But it spoiled her pleasure. It scared her. She needed to feel cherished and secure. She was snuggled against him, her body sideways against his, the way they always rested after making love. For a long time he didn’t speak. Neither did she. Finally, when she almost thought the bomb wasn’t going to drop, it did. He told her this would be their last time. He had decided they should stop seeing each other. “You’re looking for a father, not a lover,” he said. She held her breath, frozen with dread, stunned by the harshness of his pronouncement, his unilateral decision about their lives. Her face was pressed against the wiry, tickly hairs on his chest. Some of the hairs were already turning gray. Tears welled in her eyes despite her effort not to cry like a little girl. His gray hairs hadn’t bothered her before. But now they were threatening proof of the age gap that was driving him away. She was nineteen, and he was eighteen years older. “I don’t love you like a father, I love you like a man,” she managed to say. It sounded terribly lame, inarticulate. Aaron could twist it around the way he had twisted some of the points in her articles last year when he was teaching her freshman journalism class. Why was she becoming better at formal writing and lousier at simply talking to people, especially the ones who were most important to her? Even though she tried to say exactly what she felt, somehow the right words never came out of her mouth. “I’m thirty-seven,” Aaron said, springing evidence on her. “The same age your father was when he disappeared.” “Coincidence!” she snapped. “Don’t hold that against me, Aaron, please!” She pushed herself away from him and sat up, and tears fell on her naked breasts. “Is that all it is? Just a coincidence? Are you sure, Jenny?” “Yes!” But all of a sudden she wasn’t so sure. He always had the ability to tie her in knots, making her doubt the inner workings of her own mind. “You’re being unfair,” she accused. “You know what I’ve been going through lately. I couldn’t help reliving it even if I didn’t want to.” She was only twelve years old when her father kissed her good-bye and never came back. That was seven years ago, but he had been famous enough that his name could still make news. Even if she would’ve succeeded in burying all her memories, they would have been dredged up last month on the seventh anniversary of his disappearance, when it became legally feasible to have him declared dead. Jenny’s mother wanted to marry again, so she had gone to court to obtain a death certificate. Jenny hadn’t argued, but the finality of the procedure had almost made her ill. “You’ll never be able to totally give yourself to any man till you get over your thing about your father,” Aaron said. He spoke with absolute conviction, perfectly sure, as always, that he understood her better than she understood herself. The maddening part was that she half believed he might be right. The major event of her childhood may have affected her subconsciously in the way he thought. How could she know without a shred of doubt that it wasn’t so? Angry and confused, she said, “You know it’s not something I can simply erase. It happened to me, so I have to deal with it. I’ll always wonder what happened to my father. I may never get over the pain till the mystery is solved, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Aaron!” “That’s exactly right, Jenny. You’ll never get over it because you’re never going to know the answer. The intrigue is so much a part of you that it gives you a certain allure, but it also stunts you emotionally. You’re never going to grow up. You’ll always be looking backwards, into