MADMAN'S HAVEN

11

Spinning.

Everything was spinning.

There was no need for medical refill, I was already high enough by the adrenaline that rushed inside of me.

Another flashback.

This time from just a couple of hours earlier.

With my eyes closed, I relived the moment just like I was there again. Inside the grey institutional cell, the one with number 401 inscribed on the heavy iron door.

Every breath brought me deeper into the illusion, which made my blood pump vehemently on the inside of my corporal circuit.

Then I reached them. The pair of umber eyes that dragged me into the unrestrained state of seduction.

They looked deeply into mine, and I could feel how I slowly lost every piece of assertive determination. The darkness inside the brown color of iris made him appear so mysterious with his gaze, and the attraction grew stronger with the curiosity of getting closer to his sensitive self.

It was so hard to look away.

I didn't even want to look away.

The previous fright brought me to protection. Even if this man was a cold-hearted murderer, I knew that he would never even hesitate to hurt me. He would protect me at all costs.

The fluttering inside of me made every feeling so strong with reality from the flashback. I could almost touch him, feel the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart, scent his breath.

The hatred in his eyes came through as I looked deeper into his soul, and a sting reached my heart with pain. I could almost read every plain word in his thoughts, the words he so badly wanted to speak out with disgust.

But instead, he settled with commanding my averse.

I blanked out. Caught my breath.

The only thing I wanted to experience was the hypnotizing moment of instinctive seduction, the adrenaline rush that kept me from craving the rush from other substances. But the moment that turned into something I wasn't prepared for, came to interrupt my perfect illusion instead.

I needed to suppress. Forget about it. Accept that my time with Brandon was forever over.

Forever.

That was a very long time.

How would I be able to be without someone that affected me so much, for so long? What if there was no other person in the world who would make me feel the same as Brandon did? I knew that I was dependent on that high amount of pleasure, hormonal adventure, and attraction. Otherwise, I would get lost in unfulfilled needs, languish in drug abuse, and finally die of an overdose. Young and destroyed from devotion.

The thoughts frightened me. I was alone in this. There was no one I could talk to, and even if I could, no one would ever get it. I would get depicted with mental illness, probably described as insane and heavily manipulated into addiction. They would say that I needed help. In fact, they already did, and they didn't even know half of the very truth.

I opened my eyes, rubbed them desperately to get the disturbing pictures out. I knew it wouldn't help, but still, my body reacted with the physical motion of erasing.

I raised my thin body from the couch and walked into the kitchen. The low light was cozy, and the flares of the candles still danced over the heated wax on the dining table and comfortably warmed up the room.

I grabbed the bottle of De Loach Pinot Noir from the kitchen counter, and poured up the red liquid in a big glass. My already exuberant hormones didn't need to medicate with drugs, but a drop of alochol could really do in my state of loneliness.

The red wine burned my throat, and left a bitter taste on my tongue, the dark color tinctured my pale dry lips, and appeared like a rosy lipsstick. As the confidence grew stronger with the drunkenness, it made me feel attractive.

The dark red color reminded me of blood.

I licked my lips, tasted the sweetness and got rid of the lipstick again. I wondered if Brandon ever felt the taste of blood. I remembered when he shot the sharpened spike into Joseph's artery, and the blood squirted uncontrollable all over his face. The blood must've reached his tongue as he screamed out, as there were stains all over his lips.

I didn't know what was worst to imagine, the taste or the smell.

Even if I was in the same room when it all happened, I wasn't close enough to the scene to feel the scent of the thick ferrous fluid of death. I was glad about that, but the curiosity about Brandon and his senses made me wonder.

Did he scent the blood of his own family when he found them dead? Did he taste the blood of his own victims as he brutally stabbed them and made the blood spurt everywhere, maybe he tasted it with purpose? Licked his lips clean from sin, rinsed them like it was never even there?

My brute thoughts about Brandon ended with an empty bottle.

There was still so much I didn't know about him, and even if there was probably many things I never wanted to learn, the curiosity continued with heavyness and made me feel like I never could get enough.

The tones from the gramophone played in the background as I tipped around the kitchen floor. The alcohol made me moody with lust and confidence, and I enjoyed feeling myself for the first time in weeks.

I moved my hips to the rythm of Ricky Nelson's A teenager's romance, and let my hands stroke my body with self-assurance. I caressed my hands over my waist, moved them upwards my chest and neck, further down my shoulders and breasts.

I was feral, aroused from the romanticly intoxicating red wine. I enjoyed myself, couldn't get enough of my own touch as I danced in front of the mirror in my livingroom.

My body was warm, filled with drunk butterflies. I sang along to the song, blew myself a kiss from the dark burgundy lips still colored from the wine.

The gramophone changed track, and the tones of Cathy Carr's voice reached my ears.

(🎶 Ivory Tower - Cathy Carr)

My lips synced with the lyrics.

"Let love come into your heart. Don't lock yourself in an ivory tower. Don't keep us so far apart. I love you, I love you"

Every word reminded me, and I allowed them. My mood changed again, this time into something a lot more intensive and filled with lust. I needed more, more out of this moment.

I kept eye contact with my reflection as I slowly unzipped my dress in the back. My hips still moved to the slow music, and made the dress fall over my legs to land the floor. My heels stepped out from the fabric.

With inspecting eyes, I viewed my almost naked body in the mirror. The only pieces of fabric left now were my white underwear, and garterbelt holding up my white nylon stockings.

I looked like a pinup.

Once again, I let my hands place my body and begin the caress of pleasure. I kept the eye contact, moved in a flirty way, imagined that someone was watching me.

But not only someone. Brandon.

I continued with the lip sync, like the lyrics was made for me to perform in front of him.

"You'll find true love has it's charms. It's cold, so cold in your ivory tower, and warm, so warm in my arms. I love you, I love you"

I imagined his eyes grazing me from a distance as I touched myself sensually on the living room floor. I enjoyed the show as much as he did, and I let the pleasure leave through my lips to assure him about that. But I wanted him to get closer.

I closed my eyes. Allowed my thoughts.

Now I could pretend his attendance, exchange my hands with his. Imagine his touch as it reached for my screaming regions. Teasing hands searching their way over my sensitive breasts, down over the skin of my belly. Heavy breaths against my ears and neck.

I whiffed out his name in sin.
My skin shivered, my body craved.

I knew it wouldn't take long, it never did with him.