Page 4 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

I still picture him naked. I picture him, bat in hand, as he hits Theresita over and over... I chug down some more of the beer. I picture Theresita dead, laying on the ground, her head caved in. I think of her… decapitated and posed her body as some kind of twisted, headless ballerina.

The bag of tacos falls from my hand and my appetite is gone, as I stare at the spot where I found Theresita that night. Tears blur my vision, but I look up, taking a deep breath in and sucking it up. Taking a seat on the floor, I stare at the spot, and if I close my eyes, I can hear the wet sounds that came with every connected hit.

When I close my eyes, I can see her. Tears run slowly down my cheek as I think of my friend. She didn’t deserve any of it. I did... but she didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I sob into the darkness. Sobs wreck my body, and I chug the remainder of the beer and chuckit at the wall. The silver of the chain calls me, luring me into the past. Begging to be around my neck. And I get on my hands and knees.

Slowly, I crawl to my spot in the studio, grabbing the cool metal links and taking a deep breath in. I hold it for a moment, then I tie it around my throat. A noose around my throat.

And I sob.

Not because I miss him... I miss me. I miss who I was before Prince Charming came into our lives. Before he infected me with his sickness.

I was ruined before... but now I don’t even know who I am. I mean, I’m trying. But even looking at my dick is a constant reminder. Fuck, I can’t even let anyone touch me. All of it just brings me back here. Back to the monster who created me. And the worst part is, that deep down... I enjoyed it.

Even though it destroyed me in the process... I was me. No mask. No pretending. Just an unfiltered need that I learned to tuck awayat a young age.

Yet I can’t give myself to Johnathan. I try. But that’s all it is—me just trying. There’s no romance, no spark, despite him being a lifeline, being nothing but patient and a friend. I’m an illusion, someone who will lead him astray. In a way, I’m happy I’m leaving. He’s gone through enough without me adding more baggage.

But I need to get better for Gabriela’s sake, I have to keep pushing. I have to keep up with the meetings. I sob harder, tightening the chain around my neck because I’m a fraud, an illusion, and because I still see him.

From the corner of my eyes—I see him in my meetings, in my dreams… It’s an obsession.

Everywhere. I feel him.

It’s like he’s playing with me...

So why isn’t he finishing what he started?

That way I can end the game... end the haunt. So I can finally live... I can finally breathe.

I want to be happy. I want to mean the words I say during my meetings. In days, I’ll be going to Montana, and this place will be nothing but a memory...

But I still remain here.

The chains tighten around my neck painfully, and as my vision blurs, I see Ren, naked, walking around the studio, bat in hand. The blood clings to him like a second skin. I don’t dare to look down at the blood that soaks my knees or the dead body of my friend. Holding the chain, I fight the urge to breathe. The fight response burns like a rampage in my brain, and I angrily release the chains as I choke in a breath, falling to my hands.

I vomit the beer onto the ground.

“FUCK YOU, REN SATO!” I scream, as I feel my dick grow between my legs...

And like the monster I’ve become, I give in to my twisted needs. Shame and need burn through me as I pull out my throbbing cock and fuck my hand with roughness. Hard and demanding, I move up my shaft with the memories of Ren...

Our last encounter has lived in my head. I can’t escape his lips... his darkness... his sickness. Heat pools in my stomach, and I can’t breathe. My heart beats hard in my chest, each beat matching the intensity of my movements. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Theresita.The shame and pain in her eyes causes mine to blur. Throwing my head back, I focus back on the memory that continues to haunt me.

Ren’s lips on mine... the heat of his skin... the red ink on his back.

Me on my knees for him as he destroyed me.

My pain transforms into something entirely different. A moan mixed with soft sobs escapes my lips as I feel the buildup—the great high—before I’m cumming on my hand as my knees buckle, and I collapse on the floor once again.

And he is still watching... smiling while I’m wanting more... and I hate myself for it. A secret; no, a shame that I’ll take to the grave.

Chapter Three

Ren

My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I watch him step into the building. It’s been weeks since we have been face to face, , but little does he know, I’ve been watching–always watching. I’m planning our reunion while he continues to pretend to pick up the pieces, but I see the real him. I see the mask…. And the brokenness behind it and he looks just as mesmerizing—if not more. To have survived me… I chuckle, true to his fucking name–a thorn in my ass.

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