Page 33 of Tainted Serenity

Like a flower, shefell into my arms with that sweet scent of hers, enveloping me in a warm cocoon that could heat even the coldest winter nights. Her petals grew over time, from being a tiny seed to a beautiful woman of magnificent proportions.

If I close my eyes, I can see her silhouette in front of me. My beautiful little doll. The woman who drives my brain into an overdrive of emotions that continue to spin, like in a wheelspin, without there being any button to stop it. Behind closed eyelids, I can imagine her frame standing before me, her curvy hips filling out her sweatpants, hugging her ass in a tantalizing manner. As my eyes travel up to her face, the mole right above her lips stands out from the freckles dusting off her pale cheeks.

But she’s not here.

Like a temptress, she entered my world and turned it upside down until nothing could ever be as it used to be. She is the hell the monster living within me craves, satiates, and salivates after. A temptress who lured me into her embrace the moment before she erupted chaos inside me.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

After all, disorder and mayhem are all I have ever truly known. It is where I feel most like myself. All that remains now is the distant memory of her, pictures and movies playing out in my mind that tell stories about everything we have been through. But it will eventually fade away.

They say I can’t meet her, that she doesn’t want me anymore.

Doesn’t she know? She is mine forever, whether she wants it or not. My little doll will never be free of me, and just the thought of that has me spiraling into an obsession even worse than before.

I have to focus, but the cold around me prevents me from doing so as I shiver underneath its icy touch. The murkiness seems to tighten around my temples, causing a headache to take place. Darkness descends, evoking a sense of familiarity, a space where I find myself most at ease. After all, I spent the majority of my childhood surviving on the streets, trying to avoid all the dangers lurking around the corner.

Some say that the worst loss a person can go through is that of losing a parent, and even worse is losing both parents. But that’s not the case for me. The day I saw the dead bodies of my parents, brutally murdered inside my rotten car, it felt like a concrete block had been lifted from my chest. Sure, it was horrible, and I was devastated for a few days after, but they had ruined so much of my life that they finally got what they deserved.

The worst loss I’ve gone through is the day I lost my doll.

As the old man lunged at her, her body trembled from the chilling cold as I screamed, trying to make her realize what was happening. Though it was as if she wasn’t even present in her own body. Like she was elsewhere. In that crucial moment, my beautiful, foolish little doll, who never showed weakness, never let down her guard, had done so.

Being dragged away from the only woman who had ever silenced the violent, roaring demons inside my head, making them feel less alone, and watching her freckles pale as the color drained from her face, that fucking broke something within me.

It’s something I am not even sure will heal again. After all, a torn piece of paper can be glued together, but it will never return to its original shape. It will forever be wrinkled and ugly.

I remember it as if it were yesterday, although it has been nearly six weeks. Thirty-eight days of slow torment where the only thing my thoughts have been dedicated to is her whereabouts. But the old, nasty man has refused to tell me anything about her. Not even telling me if she is okay, only that she isalive.

Arthur Grimhill is like Emilio Ricci but worse, and he is the mastermind behind this horrifying scheme.

I have been inside this basement for thirty-eight days now, with nothing but soup and bread once a day and using a bucket when I need to use the toilet. Like a goddamn prisoner, ready to spend the rest of eternity locked inside a cell. It’s impossible to escape the thoughts that this is what my life would have looked like if Dankworth Institute had not existed, locked up like a fucking lunatic because of the blame I took for protecting my brother.

The cold walls feel like they’re blowing air on me as I stand in the basement room, sweat clinging to my forehead and circles evident under my eyes.

Arthur has me on an invisible leash, held tight to his hand in an attempt to control me. He has made me into some fucked-up executioner after a word from Emilio Ricci. The soaring monster inside me wants me to fight back, to break free of the suffocating chains, but doing so would be selfish. And for once in my miserable life, I don’t want to be selfish. I wanther. There is nothing out there for me if she is not in it. I realized that as I fell in love with her at Dankworth Institute.

It’s not the true romantic kind of love people read about in books; it’s a kind of toxic, possessive, and fucking destructive love that will ruin the both of us in the best way possible. And now I will never have the chance to tell her those words.

I clench my fists, nostrils flaring at the thought of Arthur refusing to let me meet her. It’s driving me fucking crazy, and I have a hard time controlling my inner turmoil. My knuckles are bruised, my skin splitting apart, and never getting the chance to properly heal. He has broken into my mind completely, making me his puppet and forcing me to do things I despise. But I have no other choice because it keeps her protected. He might as well be lying about that, but at this point, I have nothing left to lose. The beast within my soul is restless, needing to watch the crimson liquid tear from the flesh, watch people suffer because our doll is not here to make the voices go quiet.

It’s so fucking loud inside my head.

“Tell me what you did.” My voice is low and full of venom as I stare at the man in his mid-twenties standing before me, his body trembling like a weakling.

In the disconcerting sensation of an unknown gaze lingering on me, an invisible weight presses against my skin, causing a prickling and eerie feeling to wash over me. Someone is observing me, and it’s not the injured man before me whose teeth are scattered somewhere in this musty room.

“Tell me!”

I lose patience, throwing a punch between his ribs as he tries to fight me back, but it is futile; he’s weak and hurt, with no energy left in his body. A violent cough splutters out of him, saliva tinged with blood spraying on the floor below. My heart aches with the weight of torturing another human like this, gnawing on my insides, but I know there is no other choice. I will do anything to protect my little doll and me. Because if she is alive, then I have to do exactly what the sick fuck Arthur wants, or he will ruin both of our lives until we wish we never existed.

“I-I disrespected him!”

The man on the floor grunts out, more spit flying from his mouth as he stumbles back until eventually landing on his ass. I push away all rational thoughts regarding how fucked up this situation is, getting hurt because of simple disrespect. That part of me is hidden; however, another mask that has taken over to shield my inner emotions.

Silence hangs heavy in the room as I stand still, knowing I finally got the man to admit what Arthur wants to hear. I can just feel him sitting in his office, watching this live feed while enjoying it, probably having a fucking hard-on too.

My hair hangs over my eyes, and I wipe it away with my hands, bloodying my forehead in the process. The room is a chaotic mess, and my heart caves at the thought that I did this, but I can’t contemplate any of it as I take in the man on the floor, his swollen eyes drifting close as he rests his head against the floor, gradually losing consciousness.

---