Page 3 of Descend into Madness

Into my very foot

Would I hobble on a wobble

Or would I, on a lean, stay put.

These are the mysteries I wonder so

Since meeting that old man I used to know,

A-sitting on a gate oh so long ago.

“Contrariwise,”a voice replies and it takes me a moment to realize it was neither the female voice that haunts me, or any of the other tones that tumbleweed through my head. “It is the blind who see the most, or the weak who never feel frail. Let’s lop off your foot completely and see how you prevail.”

Craning my neck, I hunt for the source of the voice and settle on the only corner shadow in the entire room. A darkened area behind an oversized hunk of brown leather that the shrink likes to recline in. You know the type – ankle perched on the knee, large notepad in his hands and a pen that he clickety click clicks whilst waiting for me to calm down.

Standing in unison, the two men hit me with that same stoic stare through their sunglasses. Probably a good idea with the beaming lights burning our retinas. The longer I look, the more of a difference I’m able to see in them. Beyond their shared appearance, simmering just beneath the surface, there’s tension. More so in the one with the heart tatt, his jaw ticking against the bite of his clench, his shoulders a millimeter more squared – like that of a solider.

Quirking a brow, I quickly flash glance at the camera attached to the top of the doorframe, noting the red light is missing and the hatch in the door is firmly closed. Very well.

Twisting my right wrist around, instead of bucking against the pull, I stretch over the bed railing and unbuckle the clasp attached to the metal frame. Once freed, I tackle my next wrist and ankles, and all the while, their attention never leaves my body. Ifeelthem gawking. Their stares searing at my pasty white skin. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I cock my head and create a curtain of blonde around my face.

“Why were you lying there if you could free yourself?” the one with the heart tattoo asks sharply. Almost as if he’s chastising me for being stupid. My brows hit my hair line and just like that, any minor fantasies I may have had on how I could play out this reunion are shattered.

“The doppelganger appears far too logical,” I frown, swinging my legs back and forth. “So, the better question is, whoareyou?” He doesn’t answer me and I wonder if he even knows the answer. Sighing, I roll my head on my shoulders. “Not everyone who appears trapped is in distress. Believe me when I say, I wouldn’t remain somewhere I don’t want to be.”

The pair don’t move, and I refuse to back down so that leaves the three of us locked in the stalemate atmosphere binding us. Whoever hired these strippers and permitted them access into the psych ward needs a pay rise. Not even my wet dreams could conquer such a perfect match to my memories, stripping the chubby young boys of their fat and elongating them into muscled men with sizeable bulges behind their electric blue, skinny jeans. And the way they reach up to pluck off their glasses in utter unison, well I can’t help but give them a slow clap. Good show fellas.

“Be that as it may, we’ve come to retrieve you,” Red Heart continues, trapping me in the line of his emerald eyes. No, I can’t call him that. I’ll go for Tweedle-Dick. His brother who opts for a lazy bat of his lashes and breaks into a smirk can be Tweedle-Douche.

“The only place I’ll be going with you two,” I spear them with a wagging finger, “is a mausoleum, i.e., over my dead fucking body.” I hop off the bed, twisting my spine with a satisfying crack in multiple places. Next, I bend over to touch my toes, giving my calves a good stretch to get the blood flow circulating properly. A trick I picked up when training myself to shake off the tranquilizers as quickly as possible before the shrink bored me to death.

“As intriguing as such a place sounds,” Tweedle-Douche appears genuinely interested, “there’s nowhere else you belong aside from Wonderlust.” He has a softer edge to his voice, not as demanding. A soothing balm to spread across the lash of his brothers. Yet his words only serve to do the opposite.

“Okay, now you’re just trying to piss me off. Did Lorina send you?” I bark and the twins spare each other a side glance. I knew it. My older sister was as much as a sarcastic sourpuss as our father, although it wasn’t my childhood tales she decided to cash in on. Just a delusional sibling she could bully into adulthood and then even more so when she became a journalist in the national paper. She made her career mocking me, filling the headlines with witty puns and my face splashed all over the front page. So, I gave her something to really write about.

Storming over to the door, I bang my fist on the metal loudly. “Okie dokie, I’m done in here. I’m calm, settled and completely remorseful!” I shout to whichever guard is posted outside. “Take me back to my room and show these cheap strippers the exit!”

“There won’t be a response,” Tweedle-Douche says. “If you wish to be free, you’d only need to use the key.”

“For the love of St. fucking Nicholas, I’ll double whatever my sister’s offering if you’ll stop with the rhyming.” I leave out the part where I have no access to my trust fund. “On me, it sounds hot and whimsical. Your efforts to behimare just embarrassing.”

Spinning around, I see T-Douche has taken a step forward, his head tilted back towards the ceiling. I follow his eyeline to the lightbulb and shield my eyes to make out the silhouette of a key stuck to the tile directly beside it.

“Why the fuck would you put it up there?!”

“It wasn’t us. It flew up there itself,” Tweedle-Dick growls. The movement draws my attention to his throat and holy hell, my mouth waters. His green orbs flick up to the key and back again, a spike of alarm flashing at the way I lick my lips and close the distance between us. “See something you like?” he frowns.

“Apples,” I nod, drool escaping the corner of my mouth. He swallows thickly again and there it is - the sharpest Adam’s apple I’ve ever seen. Plump, round and juicy, right before my face. Luckily, my long legs don’t put me at much of a disadvantage to his six or so feet, otherwise I’d have to climb him like a tree. Actually…that sounds kind of fun.

Launching myself at T-Dick, he stumbles back against the leather chair and drops over the arm. I clamber on top, clawing at his braces to draw him closer to my mouth. Tongue lolling out, the tip just graces his skin when the T-Douche hoists me off like I weigh nothing. His hands remain bunched in the back of my blue paper gown, holding me in place as his brother scrambles to his feet.

“Give it to me!” I yell, clawing for him. Damn, it’s been way too long if going cave woman is the only way I’ll be getting laid around here. Or maybe it’s because they look likethem. The twins that appear in my dreams, the ones I’ve been praying might save me. Whatever it is, I’m committed. “I’m going to suck your Adam’s apple dry!”

T-Douche hoists me back against his firm chest, his arms crisscrossing over my front as he incapacitates me. Pinned against his pinstripes, his woodsy scent washes over my senses. Not struggling as hard as I should, his nose works its way through my tangled hair and somehow, his hot lips are on my ear.

“Once we return to Wonderlust, you can suck anything you like on me,” he groans low and dangerously. I still. My thighs clench, slickening instantly and I carelessly push back against him. Yeah, it’s been way too long.

A curved smile appears in the air beyond T-Dick’s confused expression, stretching its white teeth wider than ever before. Snapping to my senses, I buck out of the arms holding me and fold mine over my chest. Mostly because my nipples have hardened through the thin material and any future rubbing would just cause me to attack one of these poor professionals again.

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