Madman’s Method: Madman Duet Book One
Page 23
“Oh, you want a better look?” the nurse asks, placing the tray on the table by my feet, and she quickly rushes to the window, snapping the see-through curtains open and unlocks it, allowing the fresh breeze to slip in through the glass.
But it brings no relief to the fire brewing in my veins.
“We have such good weather these days, before fall comes.” She presses a button above my head and the bed lifts to a sitting position, but my back in the white-as-paper-that-Cole-sketched-me-on cast stays unmovable and firmly attached.
The doctor said I broke my shoulder, and it’s a miracle I’m not paralyzed by the damage done to me.
Miracle.
More like a souvenir the demons left behind to enjoy and continue torturing me, even after they’d been done with their fun.
The nurse, Regina, picks up the spoon from the tray, dips it into the soup, and brings it to my mouth, keeping the smile intact, although her eyes stay absolutely cold. “Let’s eat, darling.” She presses it to my mouth, but I keep it shut, not letting her in. She smiles again, cocking her head to the side, and uses her soothing tone that annoys my ears again. “Come on, darling. Just a few sips of the soup are what you need to get better.”
If it wasn’t for my chapped lips and sore throat that hurts from any vibration of my voice, I would laugh in her face at such an assumption.
Yeah, soup will fix everything.
Lifting my free arm, I push the spoon away and the liquid drips on her pink scrubs. “Arianna!” she shouts at me, putting the spoon on the tray. “Stop being so difficult and eat. Or don’t you want to get better?” Maybe I would have tried to help the nurse under different circumstances, but she was Cole’s mother.
And I had no desire to interact with anyone belonging to the families of those who hurt me.
I’m not sure who found me in the church, but doctors said it was a miracle I survived. They did a couple of surgeries, but they could only fix the outside of me. My mom cried nonstop while sitting by my bed as I gazed into the distance; the doctor must have told them about the rape. Since I couldn’t talk for now, no one knew the truth.
But I intended to tell everyone.
She opens her mouth to say something, but that’s when I hear the door open and a deep voice speaks, freezing even me. “Don’t make her if she doesn’t want to.” Cole’s mom wants to argue, but she doesn’t under his harsh stare. “I’d like to talk with her alone.” The nurse huffs in annoyance, gathers the tray, and says to me, “The doctor will hear about this.” And I don’t care.
My parents will take care of that. The only reason she even got a chance to slip in with this bullshit was because they had to go to work.
She must know something to act this weird; sensitive Cole must have spilled the beans.
Nothing will save her son though. Nothing!
She leaves and Eudard comes closer, his hand rising in my direction, but I shrink inside, hating his presence. I shake my head at him, but he sighs, whispering, “I’m sorry.” Tears form in my eyes from this, because logically I understand he didn’t have anything to do with it.
But I’m not logical right now, and his presence awakens nothing but fear. Voices of all the boys flash in my head, and I tremble a little, covering my ears with my palms and shaking my head. I hear him step closer and my breathing picks up, but I shake my head again. “Arianna, if I can explain.”
But panic and everything else burst inside me, and I croak, despite the pain and torn flesh. “Leave. Leave.” But he stands still, his shadow looming above me just like Ralph’s did in the moonlight, and this time I scream even though it brings me so much pain. “Leave!”
That’s when my parents burst in, my mom rushing to me while tears stream down my cheeks, and I shake and shake and shake with blood filling my mouth.
“Get out of here!” my father shouts and then calls for the doctor, but it all becomes a blur.
Nothing will ever be the same.
And in this new reality that I’m living, Eudard Campbell has no place.
Madman
Organ music bounces off the walls, creating a sense of doom and hopelessness inside my dungeon, casting a shadow on everything around us.
With each beat of the notes, goose bumps break faster and faster on his skin, fear and agony carved in his features.
Ah, my special soundtrack, just for them.
My hands conduct an imaginary musician before tightening around the neck of a baseball bat. I hit Ethan across the face with it, and he cries out in pain, blood streaming down his nose and dripping on the table beside him.
Clacking my tongue, I tear a tissue from the box and go to him, sitting on the edge of the table. “Ethan, Ethan. You are staining the paper.” Placing the tissue on his nose, I squeeze it hard, and he whimpers, his feet stomping against the floor. “That’s better. Now write.” He breathes heavily, his eyes scrunching as he probably tries to control the agony spreading through him.
It won’t help; even if it lessens, I will deliver another blow so nothing but suffering will fill his last hours on earth. He mumbles through the tape on his mouth, adding a few whimpers to it, and I sigh dramatically, putting my hand to my forehead. “I didn’t want to do it, but as you wish.” Pulling at the edge of the tape, I tear it away and his scream reverberates through the space. His lips are chapped, the skin dangling from the tape reminding me of raw meat. “Here.” I grab the salt nearby, ready for this specific occasion, and pour it on, and this time, shouts come into the mix as well.
The true music to my ears.
“Now write.” He’s sitting on a chair next to the table, his hand handcuffed to it while chains wrap his middle and legs, plastering him to the chair with no way out. He is completely naked, and the chair has sharp edges all over it that dig into the skin, leaving small bruises and only adding to his overall misery. “We don’t have all the time in the world.” Tears fall down his cheeks, the red stains marking his skin as he, with trembling hands, continues to write what is on the tablet in front of him.
I even prepared a text for him. All this fool has to do is deliver it in his handwriting.
“I never meant to. It wasn’t even my idea.” He croaks through his dry throat, not lifting his gaze to me, because the last time he did, I broke his left hand. Now it’s twisted beside him, becoming angry red with each passing moment. “Ralph always had the hots for her. It was him.” The pen trembles so much in his hand it’s a wonder anything gets done, but the scratching of the paper continues, so I know he follows through with the command.
Ah, these victims are something else. They always hope that if they follow all the orders right, they might have a chance of escaping.
Even in Ethan’s current condition, and despite me knowing the truth and beating the shit out of him before we started my real torture, hope still shines brightly on his face. He believes that with good enough words, I will forget about it and forgive him.
The thing about serial killers though is that when a victim is in front of us, all ready for the taking, nothing and no one can tempt us away from it. The pull is so strong, the darkness all-consuming, demanding blood and a kill, it’s impossible to ignore.
And all the pleadings?
It only fuels my desire to hurt them more.
Hopping from the table, I walk toward my weapons and slide my fingers over my knife collection while he continues to talk, choking a little from the blood filling his mouth. “That’s why he never paid attention to Patricia, and because he had a pact with Frank.” He takes a deep breath, stopping for a second, and I click my fingers, so the rustle of the paper fills the space once again. “But then Patricia came up to us during Cole’s party, telling us about this fantasy, and he was all over it. The only condition she had was her stupid homecoming dance. She wanted to go with him.”
What a psychotic bitch. For a date to homecoming to shine like the queen of the school, she initiated her friend to be raped.
My hand squeezes the neck of
the silver blade, showing me a reflection of barely controlled fury on my face, and I spin around to look at him, but he doesn’t look at me.
Ethan is a guy like that, a follower of all the commands. In a way, he is right. He would have never come up with the plan himself or be brave enough to execute it.
My silence serves as encouragement to him, so he fires more details. “I asked her many times if for sure it was true. She said yes, that she had a crush on Eachann for ages and would fill her diary with fantasies. I saw no harm in it, since she was willing.”
“How fascinating.” Rubbing my chin with the tip of the blade, I say curiously, “But she said no. Many times.”
He pales a little, pausing and then writing again. “We were drunk and high. I wanted to stop, voiced it many times, but they were too far gone.”
I glance at the paper and see that he is almost done, so I don’t do anything about his yapping. “I’ve lived with this regret every single day of my life. Especially after what happened to the Griffins as a whole. We’ve never done something like that again. Please believe me.”
When he writes the last sentence, I snatch it up and scan it to make sure I have everything I need. Satisfied, I put it away and then proceed to pull the chair away from the table, his exhale of relief filling my ears. “I’m so sorry again.”
Resting my hands on either side of him on the back of the chair, I say, “You know, that’s a good story and all.” He blinks, wariness replacing the relief. “But you went with it anyway. A man would have stopped them. But a fucker like you used the opportunity to hurt her. Over and over and over again.” Without further ado, I pierce his dick with one stab, and the shout of agony is so loud it even overpowers the music and the vibrations rushing through the floor.
He is thrashing and screaming while I cut off his dick and shove it down his throat, so he can choke on the very thing that hurt my girl. “Forgiveness is a privilege, Ethan. And you don’t get to have it in this mortal world.” Then thinking about my twin, I chuckle. “But you have my permission to pray. And maybe in the afterlife, there will be a way to atone for your sins,” I inform him, stabbing him now in his arm, leaving the blade inside.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I stretch for the things to come.
This is just the beginning of my torture. By the time it’s done, he will have suffered for hours and hours, wishing he’d be dead rather than alive.
And when he finally dies, he will have served his greatest purpose.
Uncovering the truth.
Cassandra
The sun streaming through the windows blinds me as my eyelids flutter open, so I cover them with the back of my hand. “Ah!” I mutter, rolling to the side and burying my face deep into the pillow, enjoying the lavender scent that always has the ability to calm me down.
Only, the smell twitching my nostrils is not that of flowers, but a masculine scent that sends awareness through my entire body, tickling across my skin.
A scent of a man who spent the night in my bed.
With a gasp, I sit up only to whimper when every bone in my body aches from the unusual physical activity, reminding me that last night ended in carnal pleasure.
Stretching my arms above me, I hang my head back between my shoulder blades while a smile tugs at my lips, giddiness sinking into me, and a giggle escapes my mouth.
I had sex and enjoyed it!
Who knew?
Sliding my hands from my neck to my waist and hips, I marvel at the fact that their touches are no longer the last ones that I’ve experienced.
No, the last ones belong to a man who gave so much passion and desire I never thought possible. Who managed to awaken my dead body and block out all the voices, music, and echoing pain that showed itself whenever men came close to me.
In Eudard’s arms, I found the naïve Arianna who used to hope for a brighter future and had so many plans for herself.
Sighing, I pat his empty side of the bed and relief washes over me at the fact that he is not here.
As much as I’m grateful for last night, despite the million reasons I had against it, facing him in the morning wasn’t something I wanted to do. I’m not familiar with one-night-stand etiquette, and avoiding awkwardness always works for the best.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand and I pick it up, reading the message flashing on the display, and instantly my good mood is gone. Coldness comes back to settle over the warmth inside my chest and reminds me why I’m in this town.
I snort at this. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is the one writing this message. After I walked up on them yesterday, she must be biting her nails with worry I’ll spill the beans.
Another message pops in; clearly, my five-second silence agitated his nerves.
At this point, I can’t hold back my laughter, because Frank is so stupid. Does he really think that old excuse will work here?
I don’t have to act subtle anymore. Besides, while he appreciates my beauty, his interest in me must have been just a way to raise jealousy from Patricia.
Ten years and nothing has changed. He chases her tail like a puppy while she merely allows him to love her. Marriage with Ralph must suck if she lowered herself to an affair with Frank.
Throwing my blankets aside, I get out of bed, curling my toes in the fluffy white carpet, and put the phone back on my nightstand.
Let him sweat a little; of course I will meet him for lunch.
It’s not his time yet to pay for his sins; his lover will be gone faster. Going to that grand ball turned into nothing but a gift, because it gave me so many opportunities to ruin them.
Not to mention the hot night with the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
I’m about to head to the shower, when dishes clinking against each other in the kitchen snags my attention and my brows furrow.
What in the hell?
Quickly putting on the first thing my eyes land on, which is my silky blue robe, I run downstairs to check who the intruder is, only to stop in my tracks when I see Eudard’s sexy back as he cooks something by the oven. The kitchen counter already has a steaming cup of tea, coffee, and two plates set up with toast beside them. “Take a seat. Eggs are almost ready.” Too stunned by his presence, I sit down, following the command blindly while gazing at him in confusion.
He didn’t leave?
Why is he still here? Didn’t I tell him it was just for one night to scratch the itch and all, and it meant nothing?
Or breakfast means nothing anyway, and he just felt like eating at my place?
Once again, why is he here?
I finally find my voice. “I thought you left.”
He spins around, giving me a view of his carved six-pack, as he is wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. “Thought or hoped?” He winks, dumping eggs on our plates before putting the pan back on the stove and turning it off.
Despite my confusion, my stomach growls and my cheeks heat up when he chuckles. “You don’t have to answer. Eat your food.” I dig my fork into it and quickly ask, before shoveling food down my throat, “Don’t you have places to be?” I almost moan out loud when the taste hits my tongue but cover it up by munching on toast.
“So eager to get rid of me, huh?”
“Having breakfast together doesn’t really ring true of a one-night stand,” I point out, and he nods, sipping his coffee.
“True, but I never agreed to a one-night stand, did I?”
Blinking in shock, I play back our conversations yesterday, which is not that easy, since he had me in a cocoon of desire.
But come to think of it, he’s right. When I said it was a one-night stand, he never argued, but he also never agreed to i
t. “I don’t want a relationship,” I inform him, fear for some reason flashing inside me.
One night of pleasure is great, but having something permanent with a man whose brother I plan to punish?
Disaster, not to mention the other minor details, like my vengeance.
He replies with his mouth full, “Noted.”
“I’m not joking.” I drop the fork on the plate where it clatters loudly.
“Noted that too. Doesn’t mean I will listen to this bullshit though.” He continues to eat as if there’s no biggie.
Oh my God, does this jerk think he now has access to my bed whenever he wishes? “You can’t force me to have a relationship with you.”
Dangerous light flashes in his eyes, and he stops eating, getting up and planting his palms on the table. “I said it twice, and I’m going to say it again. I do not take what’s not willingly given.”
“I’m not talking force! I don’t need a relationship, period.”
He studies me for a few seconds. “Cassandra, last night, you became mine whether you like it or not.”
“No, I didn’t!” Seriously, all the awesome emotions he made me experience pale right now, replacing them with fury.
Any minute now, and he will be dreaming about dragging me to his cave!
“This conversation is pointless,” he says, and I get up too, poking my finger in his chest.
“So now we have to do whatever you say? I don’t think so. Last night was great, but it ends here.”
“Because you had your fill?” he casually asks, too casually, but I’m so blinded by his attitude to pay attention to that.
“Exactly.” I’m lying through my teeth, because it’s not. But any further involvement with him is out of the question.
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” he asks, and I have a second to dwell on those words before strong arms squeeze my waist, spin me around, and hike me up on the kitchen counter.
Eudard takes my mouth in a deep, probing kiss. His fingers dig painfully into my waist, and he presses against me, tearing a moan from me. My hands circle his neck, scratching him lightly while bringing us closer and giving him better access to me, so I can feel every lick and touch of his.