MADMAN'S HAVEN

35

Monday, January 13th

"Good morning, Brandon," I said politely as I entered his cellar and met with his tired pair of eyes. With all my power I tried to keep the mask of falseness on, and I smiled kindly as he looked at me from where he sat on his bed.

"Hi, beautiful," He replied quietly with a raspy morning voice, and his words immediately made me blush. I said nothing more as I allowed him to rise from the bed and approach me to embrace my body with his muscular arms. I breathed in his scent, and kept every emotion inside as I couldn't let them take over.

With this smile worn over my face, I already felt like a liar.

Brandon kissed my forehead with passion, and I closed my eyes as I enjoyed the safety and pleasure of his proximity. Then he looked at me, just to meet with my eyes and hypnotize me into the world of affection.

"How are you?" He asked, not with concern, but with heavy care. I hesitated and let a couple of seconds pass to come up with an honest answer. I couldn't even convince myself that I was actually okay, which meant that I couldn't tell Brandon that I was either.

"I'm progressing, thank you," I answered shortly and realized that he wouldn't be pleased at all with only those words.

He strained his eyes as he inspected my body and soul. He was trying to read me, just to make sure that he knew exactly what I was referring to, and that I was telling the truth. The nervousness grew upon me as he looked at me in such a surveying way.

"Did something else happen? Did he approach you again?" His eyes were still strained as they now met with my own, and I got a little bit withdrawn as I glanced the anger in him.

I placed my hand on Brandon's chest to connect with him and kept a calm face to assure him that he didn't have to worry about Donald.

"No he didn't," I mumbled, trying my best to dismiss the other question without his notice. I was leading myself further into the exposure, and that feeling was not a pleasant one since this could be my last glorious moment with Brandon ever.

"Good," He said through a deep exhale. Then he inspected me again. He knew that there was something left out, he just didn't know what, or how to confront me about it without being nosy or intrusive. He wanted to keep his pride, he didn't want to appear jealous or blithering. Even if he thought that he controlled me in every way and that he could play around however he pleased, he still wanted to be respectful and polite.

In a last try, I decided to leave this conversation and begin with the meeting of profession instead. I tried to get back the eye contact, but he was too busy reading every inch of my body.

"Should we begin today's sessio- "

"You did it again," Brandon interrupted me with his dark voice. His eyes were now stuck on that small, purple spot in the bend of my arm, and my stomach turned with shame along with my increasing heartbeat that prepared my body for the worst.

I had no other choice than to stay calm. With a discrete, anxious inhale, I grabbed Brandon's arms and forced back his attention to me.

"Brandon, I- "

"What happened?" Once again he interrupted me without any chance of explanation. He already dominated me, and determined that this conversation was not over at all.

"Are you high right now?" He filled in.

My head pounded as the stress hit me, and my abdomen started aching along with the heavy pressure caused by the situation. The anodyne I took this morning only helped with the worst pain and the hangover, but no anodyne pill in the world could cure this heavy amount of affliction.

"No!" I answered in honesty.

The dizziness reached my brain, and I had to clench my hand around Brandon's arm to stabilise myself. My knees started to tremble, but I didn't want him to notice.

I closed my eyes. The striking pain now forced me to place one hand over my stomach, as I relied on Brandon with the other.

"Beverly, what's going on?"

My weakness was no longer hideable. Brandon grabbed my waist as I slowly turned more feeble with every second. I didn't know how far I was from the faint, but with every muscle, I tried to keep my consciousness.

"It's okay. Please just let me sit down," I grunted out as I folded in pain again. Brandon followed my command and slowly started to lead me to the bed.

"You're not okay, you need to tell me what's going on!" He almost shouted, not out of anger this time, but with genuine concern.

I whined with every step, trying to find any strength to talk.

But then, there was no need for any talking as my body decided to tell Brandon what was going on itself.

"Oh no," I whispered as I looked down at the floor where there were now stains from the blood dripping down my thighs.

"Dear god, Beverly," Brandon whiffed out in panic as he witnessed the red trace. He got me to the bed and I immediately collapsed into tears as the blood continued to colour the sheets. The horrific moment brought me not only into deep pain but also to heavy fright. Now there was no way I could get away with this, and only Brandon was left to decide what my faith would be.

His eyes were big of worry as he looked at me where I laid. I knew he wanted me to break the silence, but I couldn't. Not yet.

"I need to know what is happening to you. Should I call for the guard?"

I couldn't believe what he just said. He was really that worried, he even thought of calling for Frank and risk being accused of hurting me.

"No," I just grunted. I couldn't handle any more drama, and this would hopefully be over soon anyway.

"You need to see a doctor!" He insisted, and kept looking at the bloody mess around us.

I placed my hand upon his and looked at him with calm eyes. I wanted to show him that I was awake enough, and that I was just waiting for the worst pain to settle.

He squeezed my hand, kissed it over and over as his dewy eyes looked deeply into mine.

"Please, Beverly. Let me call for help, you're bleeding too much. Something is wrong," He cautioned gently, begging me to follow his statement of question.

"It will stop," I answered as another tear rolled down my cheek.

Once again Brandon sighed in frustration, and like so many other times before, he started to pull his hair and shake his head in distress. He had no idea what was going on, and to see me bleed from beneath must've been hard enough for him to witness. But to my surprise, he kept unexpectedly calm during this whole moment of chaos.

The pain started to ease, and I got my breathing under control again. I knew I had to say something since I didn't want to leave Brandon with this torturing concern and wonder. I hated to see him this way. Vulnerable, sad, distressed. He deserved to know what was going on. He didn't need any more trouble or dramatic situations since he was already dealing enough with himself and his own brain activity.

With one last hope of survival, I stroked Brandon's hand and looked at him in devotion.

"I'm so sorry,"