Lost and Found

Visiting the Crazed Lady

As Mackenzie left his father's office, his head spun with thoughts of what to do next.

Aurelio had warned him about the consequences of getting too attached to someone outside the world they lived in, and that included his mother.

It wasn't that he cared for her opinion—far from it—but there was something about the way she had always been tied to his life that made him feel obligated to include her.

Aurelio had taught him one thing: loyalty to family was paramount.

Even if that family was broken. And Mackenzie knew he couldn't hide Evelyn forever.

He had to confront the mess of his past, and his mother was part of it.

She was a nightmare he couldn't escape, a shadow that had loomed over him for years.

He hadn't seen her in months.

She'd been kept in an institution for most of his life, ever since her breakdown when Mackenzie was a kid.

His father had locked her away, hidden her from the world, and Mackenzie

had only visited her a handful of times—always feeling like he was stepping into a nightmare.

But this time felt different. He couldn't ignore the anxiety rising in his chest.

He knew, in his gut, that whatever reaction he got from his mother would shape his relationship with Evelyn, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

———————————————————

The drive to the asylum was longer than he remembered.

The roads felt narrower, the air thicker, as if the place itself was trying to suffocate him with the weight of its history.

The memories of visiting the place as a child flooded back.

His mother had been a violent, unpredictable woman before she had been committed, and her psychotic breakdowns were legendary.

He had tried to distance himself from that part of his life, trying to bury it deep, but it was part of him. A part of him he couldn't ignore.

The asylum was a tall, foreboding building on the outskirts of town, surrounded by iron gates and high stone walls.

The place was cold and impersonal, like a fortress. There was something about it that made Mackenzie feel both uneasy and disgusted.

He parked his motorcycle in the visitor's lot and walked up to the entrance. The heavy steel doors opened with a groan, and he felt a shiver run down his spine as he stepped inside.

The sterile smell of antiseptic and old wood hit him instantly, and he forced himself to keep moving forward. He knew what he had to do.

Mackenzie signed in at the front desk, and the nurse behind the counter eyed him suspiciously before pointing him toward the visitation room.

His stomach churned as he walked through the sterile hallways, the quiet echoes of muffled voices and distant footsteps all around him.

It felt like a place where time stood still, where nothing was allowed to grow or change.

The visitation room was small, furnished only with a few uncomfortable chairs and a table in the center.

The walls were a dull shade of gray, and there were no windows. Just the dim lighting and the cold atmosphere.

He sat down, tapping his fingers nervously on the table as he waited. His mind raced with thoughts of Evelyn and his conversation with his father.

Could he really keep her away from his family's mess? And what would his mother say when she found out about her?

The door to the room opened, and a nurse entered, followed by a figure he had spent years trying to forget.

She was thin, her face gaunt and pale, her eyes empty as if they'd lost all semblance of life. Mackenzie's mother.

Her once-vibrant red hair had gone thin and wispy, and her skin had become pale and blotchy from years of medication and isolation.

Her eyes were hollow, glazed over as if she was trapped in her own world, but Mackenzie could still see the remnants of the woman who had once been his mother—the woman who had been everything to him before everything fell apart.

The nurse guided her to the chair across from him, and his mother didn't even acknowledge his presence. She simply stared blankly ahead, her hands folded in her lap.

Mackenzie's heart clenched in his chest. He had no idea what to say.

He had avoided this conversation for so long. But now, he needed to speak the words he had been holding in for so long.

"Mum," he said softly, his voice hoarse. "I... I need to talk to you about something."

His mother didn't respond, her gaze remaining fixed on the wall. But Mackenzie pushed forward, knowing that no matter how difficult it was, he had to do this.

"I've been seeing someone," he said quietly. "Her name is Evelyn."

Still no response.

"I care about her," he continued, his throat tightening. "I think I might be in love with her."

The silence in the room felt suffocating. His mother didn't blink. Didn't move. Mackenzie felt like he was talking to a ghost.

But then, just when he thought she wasn't listening at all, his mother's eyes slowly turned to meet his, and for the first time in years, something flickered in them—a spark of something he couldn't quite identify. It could've been recognition. It could've been fury.

"You... You think you're in love with her?" she muttered, her voice barely audible but sharp enough to make him flinch.

Mackenzie's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected her to respond at all, let alone like this.

"Yes," he said, trying to steady his breathing. "I think I've fallen for her, Mum. She's different. She's kind, and... and she makes me feel things I didn't think I could feel."

For a moment, his mother just stared at him, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Then, without warning, her expression twisted into something darker—something dangerous.

"You fool," she spat, her voice rising, her hands suddenly slamming against the table. The sudden movement startled Mackenzie, and before he could react, she stood up with surprising speed, her face contorted in rage.

"You don't know what you're doing!" she screamed, her voice shaking with fury. "You think she's different? She'll ruin you, Mackenzie. She'll ruin everything! You're nothing but a damn puppet in that world. Do you think she'll love you when she knows who you really are? When she knows what you've been raised to do? She won't. She can't!"

Mackenzie recoiled, the words stinging more than he anticipated. His mother's breath was ragged, her hands clenched into fists as she glared at him.

Before he could process what was happening, she took a step toward him, her hand coming out with startling speed.

In the blink of an eye, her palm connected with his cheek, the sound of the slap ringing through the room.

Mackenzie's head snapped to the side, and he stumbled back slightly, his face stinging.

He raised a hand to his cheek, feeling the sharp pain and the heat radiating from the contact. A bruise was already beginning to form on his skin.

His mother was still standing, her eyes wide and manic, her breathing fast and uneven.

"You don't deserve her!" she screamed again, her voice cracking. "You'll destroy her like you destroy everything else!"

Mackenzie stood frozen, his hand still pressed against his cheek, his heart pounding in his chest.

He couldn't believe this was happening. He hadn't expected her to hit him. He hadn't expected her to react like this at all.

"Just leave her alone," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "If you really cared about her, you'd stay away from her. You'll only ruin her life, just like you ruined mine."

With that, Mackenzie felt everything crash down on him. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he thought he might suffocate from the weight of her words.

His mother was right about one thing. His world was poison. He had known that his whole life.

But what terrified him now was the thought that Evelyn—innocent, pure Evelyn—could be dragged into it. Could be tainted by his family's mess.

Mackenzie swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to fix this.

But he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to let his mother, or anyone else, dictate who he could love.

He turned away from her, walking toward the door without another word. But before he left, he heard his mother's voice one last time, shrill and piercing.

"Don't you dare bring her into this, Mackenzie!" she yelled. "She'll never be free of you, of this—of me."

Mackenzie didn't respond. He didn't need to.

He stepped out of the visitation room, his mind in a haze.

The slap on his cheek still burned, and the words his mother had spoken echoed in his mind.

But one thing was clear: he wasn't backing down. Evelyn was worth the fight, no matter what the consequences were.

And if his mother couldn't see that, then he'd fight without her.