Page 7 of Prelude to Madness

I glanced over to my companion, the subtle rise and fall of his chest reminding me that this was indeed real and no dream.

Why did I have the overwhelming feeling that this wasn’t right, that something was a little off-kilter?

I desperately needed to pee. And take something to ease the headache from hell, no doubt from the drug he’d slipped into my mouth. I had no idea what it was, but seeing the swirling tattoos on his body suggested something hallucinogenic.

The craving was back, though, slowly building, making my skin itch from the inside.

“Where are you going, angel? It’s still early.”

Was it? I had no concept of time, having been kept in a windowless room for so long. It could have been midday for all I knew.

“I, erm, need to pee.” I climbed out of bed. I was naked and self-conscious of my too-thin body. Sometimes I had been unable to afford food. Add on another three weeks of captivity with little to eat, and I was wasting away.

The room wasn’t quite as opulent as His Highness’s, but a darn sight better than what I was used to, even at home.

Two doors led from the room, and I took a guess that the bathroom wasn’t the one with the locks and bolts.

I walked towards the other but stopped, startled by my reflection’ in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door.

I pressed my fingers to livid bruises on my hips, a stark reminder of last night’s sex. The skin blanched around them.

“Hurry up and piss. I want you back here in my bed.” His commanding tone brooked no argument. I rushed to the bathroom and returned to the bed in record time.

I slipped beneath the covers. What did he expect of me? At least in the cage, there was only me and no expectations.

As he ran his hands across my body, I tensed. I felt woefully inadequate today. Gone was my confidence of last night to be replaced by an anxiousness I couldn’t explain. Why had he picked me? Surely, [T1] he could have chosen better-looking men. Men with more about them. Men with impressive physiques.

I had nothing to offer. I was a lowly composer with nothing going for him. A waste of time, a loser.

How many times had I heard those words, every one stinging over and over, like an angry wasp intent on causing as much harm as possible? And hurt they did, making me feel like my life and my work were worthless.

I blinked away tears. When was the last time I’d felt like this? That my life was futile, that everyone would be better off without me. I turned away from my captor. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen.

“What’s wrong, angel? Why the tears?” Guess I wasn’t so good at hiding them after all.

I shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You feel worthless, under-appreciated, but most of all, you feel inadequate.”

How did he know this?

“I know everything about you, angel. I can tell you every little thing about your life, right down to your cat and your friend, Hugo.” He placed his hand on my hip and squeezed, catching the bruises he’d left last night. “Now, why don’t you let me help you forget, angel? I can help you remember only the good things.”

I lay on my back, looking into the black eyes that had fascinated me. Not one glint of colour, just a reflection of the darkness I felt inside me.

“Yes, I want that.”

He shifted to lie on top of me, pressing his weight into my body until I thought I would snap. He leant down and kissed me, something we’d not done before, but when he fed me a pill, I realised his reason for doing so.

“You’ll feel good soon, angel. We both will.”

He reached for the drawer in the nightstand and took out a pair of handcuffs.

My eyes widened. I was curious, never having done anything like this before. My sex life had been nothing more than vanilla. The most exciting thing, a handjob in the bathroom of a bar.

“I…I…” I stammered. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” he crooned in my ear. “You said you wanted it. I can make you forget everything.”

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