Page 7 of Grotesque Love

My brothers, stone-faced dullards that they are, can’t seem to peel their gazes away from her. They watch her every day, droning on about protecting her, as if she’s some fragile flower in need of their gallant defence.

But me? I couldn’t care less about her safety. These walls contain a blackness that stains every soul who crosses the threshold, why should she be any different?

No, what I crave is far more primal, more visceral.

It’s been centuries since I’ve felt the heat of a woman’s touch, since I’ve lost myself in the softness of flesh. I find my pleasure where I can, but it’s never the same. The memory of warm skin, hot wetness, human moans, it’s all like a distant dream, fading with each passing year.

As I watch her move about her mundane existence, I can’t help but feel a hunger stirring within me. A hunger that demands to be sated, no matter the cost. She may not realise it yet, but shebelongs to me now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she knows she’s mine.

With each passing night, my reluctant obsession with her only grows stronger. I find myself counting the hours until darkness falls, eagerly anticipating the moment when I can once again feast my eyes upon her. I’ve got it as bad as my brothers it would seem. It’s as if I’ve become tethered to her, unable to break free from the intoxicating allure she exudes.

But she remains oblivious to my presence, lost in her own world. Lost inside her own head.

She has no idea that she’s become the object of my desire, the focal point of all my dark fantasies. And yet, there’s a thrill in the chase, in the anticipation of finally claiming what is rightfully mine.

I’ll bide my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. For when I do, she’ll realise that she’s no longer in control, that she belongs to me body and soul.

That won’t happen if she doesn’t survive the storm, and so as night falls, I ready myself to claim my prize.

CHAPTER THREE

ARIANWEN

Burning. Shivering. Fevered.

I clench my teeth, trying to stop the shaking, cold to my bones but sweat soaks my brow. It trickles down the side of my face.

Darkness surrounds me.

I’m in a bed. Is it mine?

Something cool is pressed against my forehead, and I think I make a groaning noise, except it feels like fire in my throat. The noise quiets to a whimper, and then there’s only more darkness.

My eyes flutter open again, heavy. There is no concept of time. Only pain.

Starchy cotton scratches my tender skin. My feet hurt, but my legs are restless. Every time I try to move, there’s more bitterness, and then everything turns fuzzy once more.

Night and day.

Day and night.

I can’t grasp…anything.

How did I end up in this wretched state? But my thoughts are elusive, slipping through the fog that clouds my mind.

Fragments of memories flit around me like wayward fireflies, darting in and out of reach. There was a sense of urgency, a desperate need to find something... or someone…do something maybe?

As the fever rages on, my body is tender with a deep-rooted weariness. It’s as though I have been navigating treacherous terrain for an eternity. Boggy terrain that does its best to drag me down. My muscles protest any movement, agonising aches demanding respite from the torment I am enduring. And yet, some invisible force propels me forward, urging me not to succumb.

Don’t give up, something whispers in the darkness.

The room itself is suffused with an eerie stillness, broken only by the faint echo of distant footsteps and the occasional muffled conversation that seeps through the walls.

Where is she? Why has she not come to me? Why do I feel so alone?

The air hangs heavy with the scent of antiseptic, mingled with a trace of decay. More dead plants. More dying flowers.

With each passing segment of indeterminate time, I grow more desperate.

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