MADMAN'S HAVEN

24

As sudden as the words left his mouth, my heart stopped with consternation.

Brandon used his feelings and turned the fury into a game. That's how he kept so calm after hearing what Donald did to me.

He wanted me to believe that the moment between us was about genuine consolation that would slowly turn into a sexual act of comfort, but all along that was just a way of shading his psychopathic instincts.

His hand was still tied around my throat, and with every second I got further into dizziness.

His anger was about to take over.

I knew that Brandon was driven by revenge, and some part of me was not surprised by his dictum. But it all became so real when the words were spoken out loud, because Brandon was for sure no liar, and I knew that if he would get the tiniest opportunity to act out against Donald, he would take it without hesitating for even a second.

A flash of pictures ran through my head of me and Donald. I remembered how gentle and friendly he was in the beginning, how careful he was with every touch and kiss, and how aware he was of my consent and comfort. That man was the same one who tied his fist to throw it over my feminine cheekbone only after a few weeks filled with innocent and wonderful company.

I got sick from the flashbacks. Maybe he deserved to die? No matter if he wouldn't hurt me anymore, he was a danger to all other women.

He was a fraud, a man who worked by the law and turned his back to break it only when his uniform came off. He wore the most perfect mask of duplicity, just like any other sick lunatic locked on the inside of the actual institution he was employed at. He deserved to get locked up as much as they did, but that was not how it worked in the realistic society.

It was hard to press charges against a man, not least against a man of the law. For any woman, including myself, it would be an impossible mission to achieve. It would never be worth it.

My stomach turned as I thought about the women who would fall into his abuse in the future. People like him were not able to change, neither to stop.

I wondered how many there were from before, how many girls who already managed to run away from his manipulative grip in the past.

What did he do to them? How far did it get?

My insides ached from disgust, but my manners took over since I knew so much better. Of course, Brandon was not going to kill Donald, and no matter how much I would like him to get his punishment, I would never say that in front of Brandon.

A quiet, chirping sound came through my mouth as the air struggled out of my strained airways.

"You're not killing anyone, Brandon," I forced out in a whisper. Once again our lips grazed to bring more sensation to the already vulnerable moment.

His eyes inspected me and softened with color as he noticed my strong battle with finding oxygen.

I allowed him to take control over me, and I was not afraid as long as he didn't hurt me. But I knew that his aggression could get out of his own control, and in my current position, that could be something dangerous.

With a careful motion, I moved my hand up to place my palm on his chest. His warm skin steamed through the white fabric. I knew I could use physical touch to connect with him. He just had to realize that he was acting out harder than he thought.

"Please, Brandon. I can't breathe,"

I blinked with heavy eyelids to prove my point. Another minute in this harsh grip would lead me to faint.

Immediately, his eyes widened, and he released me from the choking hold. Instead, he gripped his hair with both his hands, and I knew what was about to come.

I took back control of my breathing while I watched Brandon get into heavy pressure.

"Fuck!"

The first curse word left his lips in a spit. Just as usual.

I kept quiet, allowed him into his moment.

He began to walk over the room with stressed steps. I knew he needed his minute of realization, that's how he would get back into a stable mind state.

"Christ's sake, Beverly!"

The second shoutout came, enchanted by concerned expressions like he was calling for help.

This was not about me, he just needed to use me and my presence to get into his deepest emotions. I hated to see him this way, but it was the best way for settling from fume.

"I don't know why I do that. I just keep hurting you, I'm no better than that son of a bitch guardsman!"

There it was. The sentence filled with regret and self-perception. My heart got warm, and I felt proud. Yet another proof that he was no psychopath.

I walked over to him, allowed him to embrace my body to show my support and acknowledge my forgiveness. His breathing was heavy and slow, and I could sense his anxious inside from where I stood so close to him in his arms.

Now it was my time to step in with calmness. The moment was over and he managed to get out of it all by himself. What he needed now was comfort and commendation.

"Brandon, you let go when I asked you to, everything is fine. You didn't hurt me," I spoke with a gentle voice against his collar. His breathing was in normal motion again, and he just let the moment flow by holding me tight in his warm fathom.

I looked up at him carefully, and as he noticed my movement, he tilted his head down to meet my eyes.

"Come here," He whispered.

In the most wonderful way, our lips met to create the perfect kiss.

The earlier moment vanished as we made up. Now, all we wanted was each other's touch, and I knew that it was one way of getting Brandon to feel medicated for a while.

He grabbed my lip between his teeth, and passionately placed his hand on the back of my neck. His fingers dug through my hair which made me shiver, and I pant out from the pleasuring pain caused by his teeth.

His tongue replaced his biting hold and gently grazed my lip before he whispered against my skin.

"Let me take care of you before you leave,"