MADMAN'S HAVEN

25

Brandon Barlowe

(🎶 Dark Horse - Sleeping At Last)

I couldn't believe it. Once again my anger raged out against the fragile little creature in front of me.

No part of me ever wanted her to get hurt, at least not at this time when she was already weak and bruised up from another man's actions.

I still needed her to understand that she was not allowed to play around with me however she wanted, but I already made that clear before. I chose to trust her now after doing what I asked her to. She actually came back, and promised never to leave again, even after everything she'd been forced to witness ever since we first met.

This situation was just an unnecessary movement caused by blackout fury. What if I didn't let go of my chokehold? What if I actually strained her delicate airways to faint?

The imagination of her unconscious little body laying in front of me on the cool, hard floor was disturbing.

I could have killed her.

The heavy affection I felt against her was slowly taking over me, and it seemed every movement of mine appeared out of the instant urge of protecting her. But every time I acted out in the completely opposite way. My violent actions were no signs of protection, I just diverted her further away from me, I was aware of that.

I knew that she was still afraid of me, and right now I was trying to do all in my power to prove to her that she didn't have to be. But once again I failed, and went too far with my deeds, all because of that fucking guardsman.

Only thinking his name brought me to boiling tantrum.

Beverly's sore, swollen cheekbone made me weak. The yellow-toned, purple bruise made her appear frail and overmastered, and that was not very like her. She was strong, and determined in persona, and I learned that she had a high barrier for tolerance. To steal power from her was just not an easy mission for anyone, but still that man succeeded somehow. I didn't want to share that ability with anyone. Beverly was mine to handle, in weakness and in strength, and the thought of some other man affecting her that way annoyed me a lot.

The image of the much bigger, violently educated man raising his fist to heave over the innocent, pure and blonde porcelain doll flashed on repeat through my brain, and the lust of murderer grew heavier inside of me with every second.

She didn't deserve it. No woman ever deserved to be abused by any man in that gruesome way of malfeasance.

A gurgle filled my throat with disgust when I thought about my own earlier actions against innocent human beings. My hypocritical self made me want to throw up, but still no part of me regretted what I did since there was a very explainable reason behind it all.

The flashbacks from the bloody mess I made ached through my head.

I killed a woman. A pregnant woman.

An unborn child.

I murdered three small children, along with their mother.

I knew that I was a monster to the world, and by showing no regret it probably made me appear even more barbaric. But the truth was that I only did those poor people a favour by ending their destructive lives.

I already knew that Joseph abused and raped his ex-wife. He even did that to his children, including the little foster boy Conrad.

Then there was the niece, the pregnant girl. She meant everything to Joseph, even more than his own children it appeared, and soon I came to notice why. That foetus she was carrying inside of her, it was not a baby made out of love. It was Joseph's own offspring.

Of course, that young, pretty woman was one of his precious victims to impose and rape, and he actually seemed to believe that the poor girl was happy about germinating an incest, bastard child inside of her.

The foetus probably would have come out stillborn anyways, otherwise with an extra limb, a third eye or another major disability. That fact made any bad feeling inside of me disappear.

Everything I did was with purpose of destroying and getting my revenge on Joseph. But sooner I came to realize that I made every single one of those innocent family members a favour, because never again would they be forced into his brutal violence. No more fright, no more flashbacks, no more trauma, they were free forever.