Page 37 of Grotesque Love

But do I want to stay here and wallow in it? Let the stickiness of death tar my skin and keep me trapped inside my own mind?

No.

But first things first, I need to see just how much of my sanity I’ve lost inside these walls.

Once the groundskeeper leaves, with my medication tucked in my nightgown sleeve, I get up and bury the pills in the soil of myplant pot. Taking one of the waxy leaves between my fingers, I feel a smidge of remorse at the small brown marks starting to appear.

Making my way to the bathroom, I open the window, and find myself faced with the same gargoyle as before.

Same as before? Of course he was the same as before. He was a stone statue. Not a living thing that moved, right?

I lift my hand to my braided hair. Tilting my head to one side, I stare at his long smooth horns, the same ones that had been tangled in my hair the night before.

That was real. Not imagined. I know it, deep down in my core.

Leaning over the window ledge, I narrow my eyes. But nothing changes. No flicker of movement. No stirring.

I pretend to walk away, then turn back quickly.

Still nothing.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I think back to how its big, broad body had been pressed against mine. How its dick had been prodding me through my underwear, desperate for me.

My cheeks heat.

If Ihavegone crazy, what does it say about me that I’ve invented a horny stone monster who wants to pin me down and fuck me?

With that thought, I decided to throw caution to the wind. Hooking my fingers beneath the hem of my nightie, I lift it, and flash my breasts at the stone gargoyle on the ledge opposite my window.

Surely if he was real, and he wanted me…this would be like handing myself to him on a silver platter.

I wait.

The cool morning air makes my nipples peak into hard pink buds, and moves across my exposed skin like a tender caress.

But still nothing.

Feeling oddly disgruntled, I flip off the statue before turning and brushing my teeth. Once I’ve washed up, I get dressed in a pale pink dress that ties in thin straps at my shoulders and falls just below my knees. The fitted top cinches mynarrow waist in before the skirt puffs out over my hips. It’s not as conservative as some of the other dresses and it’s perfect for what already feels like a warm day. I opt not to wear a bra, I haven’t been wearing one for ages so why start now? And there aren’t any shoes in my room, so I leave my feet bare for now.

As I wander down the corridors, continuing the exploration I started the other day, I’m oddly at ease. Monsters don’t exist. I’m delusional with grief.

These are the sad facts of my life right now, but being upset by it isn’t going to change anything.

Once I reach the kitchen, I make myself a simple breakfast and some fruit tea before turning the radio on.

They’re talking about the missing woman again. Apparently they think it may have been linked to a spate of other disappearances over the last ten years but they’re struggling to link them together other than some vague similarities in their appearances.

Would anyone besides Carver notice if I was missing? Is there anyone left who thinks of me outside of this haunted estate?

Probably not.

After breakfast, I find myself in the solarium again. This time, I’m armed with a pair of gardening gloves, black bags and a strange sort of determination as I push open the doors that lead to the garden. I spend the majority of the morning working on removing all the dead plants.

After lunch, I decide to wander in the gardens, making sure to keep inside the boundary walls this time. I may be hallucinating and hovering on the edge of oblivion, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t dangerous creatures in the woods.

I find a cosy corner, tucked away in one of the courtyards and stumble upon another gargoyle statue, this one is larger than the perverted one outside my bathroom. Huge in fact. It rests on a pedestal of sorts, towering over me with its wings half spread, creating pockets of shade over the overgrown plants beneath. The monstrous creature doesn’t have a tail, but it does have an impressive set of horns with rough ridges all the way up that curlbackwards. Its face is more serious than the others, but I’m not afraid.

The carved monster looks like it’s overseeing what used to be a herb garden given the hints of mint and rosemary that blend with something more earthy on the warm afternoon breeze.

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