Page 20 of Grotesque Love

The groundsman takes a step closer, his movements deliberate, like a hunter trying not to startle its prey. My heart races in my chest, a feeling of panic rising up my throat.

My hand trembles as I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand and take a sip to calm my nerves. But when I lower the glass, the groundsman is right beside me, so close that I can smell the earthy scent of soil and sweat that shrouds him.

I freeze, every muscle in my body tense as he leans down, barely glancing my way.

“Medicine,” he grunts, thrusting the two pills towards me.

“T-thank you,” I stammer, reaching to take them from him.

He doesn’t wait for me to swallow them, once he’s handed them over, he turns on his heel and walks from the room without a glance backwards, closing the door behind him.

Once his footsteps fade, the soft echoes swallowed by the silence, I exhale shakily. The pills feel cool and smooth against my skin, a stark contrast to the prickling heat of fear that courses through me. I was alone. Trapped.

I glance down at my palm, hesitating. He didn’t make me take them. Didn’t watch. Carver always watches, always makes sure I take every last thing he gives me.

Maybe he wasn’t told to supervise me? Maybe he only left instructions to give me the medicine. Carver likely thinks I’m so complicit at this point that he doesn’t need to. Or maybe it’s a test…

Could Carver or the groundsman be watching me?

The thought makes me tremble as I try to covertly check my room for a hidden camera or something out of place. Maybe the groundskeeper will come back. Maybe I should take the pills.Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

With hesitant steps, I make my way over to the window, careful not to make a sound that might draw unwanted attention. Peeking through a small gap in the curtains, I catch a glimpse ofthe groundsman walking across the expansive grounds before disappearing into one of the garden sheds.

My head aches as panic threatens to engulf me whole. Maybe I’ve finally gone crazy. Consumed by paranoia. The new pill is making me worse, I know it despite what Carver says. The tablets make me sleepy.

I don’t want to sleep anymore…

I lose days.

I can’t think.

I forget who I am.

I forget her…

I hate them.

Decision made, I grip the pills tightly in my hand, the press against my palm making little indents in my skin. With a newfound sense of determination, I cross to the nearby potted plant and push the tablets into the dark soil, pushing down, down, down, until they both disappear from view.

Out of sight, out of mind.

A surge of adrenaline courses through me, my heart pounding against my rib cage in a way that’s almost painful. If this was a test, Carver was going to punish me for failing, but I’m not a puppet on a string here for his entertainment.

As I climb back into bed and pull the covers up to my chin, a sense of defiance blooms within me like a fragile flower pushing through the cracks in concrete. I close my eyes, my mind racing with the possibilities of what might come next.

The thoughts overwhelm me, and I begin to drift off into a fitful sleep, but a sudden noise startles me awake. Footsteps, heavy and purposeful, echo through the hallway outside my room. My heart leaps into my throat, every muscle in my body straining to listen. The footsteps draw closer, stopping just outside my door. I hold my breath, waiting for whoever it is to make a move.

The handle turns slowly, and the door creaks open, the sound like pinpricks on my skin.

It’s not the groundsman or Carver – the room is filled with the scent of petrichor, that fresh smell you get after a heavy rain.

This is someone else, something else entirely.

A stranger, obscured by the darkness, lurking in the shadows.

Barely a heartbeat later, the door closes, leaving me wondering if I imagined the whole thing as sleep drags me under.

It’s been two days, and I finally feel clear headed. I haven’t felt this…aware since I recovered from that fever out on the moors, only for Carver to put me straight back on my medication.

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