Madness (Madness #1)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The heat radiating from Desmond and Bander has our skin sticking together as we lay intertwined on the floor in a tangled embrace.

As I move to disentangle myself, I can feel the ache they both left behind still lingering between my legs and the remnants of our passions leaking from me.

My lips kick up into a smirk, thinking of how they marked me as theirs, a game Bander and Jameson have loved doing since they made me theirs.

My mind is finally blank, and my sister's words no longer pierce my mind and heart. I burrow myself further into Bander’s embrace.

“How are you feeling, Atropa?” he strokes my dark red hair away from my face and smiles lovingly down at me.

“Quiet.”

I don’t need to say anything more. I never have to with Bander, who gets it probably more than anyone in this place.

Wonderland is a twisted place where reality and madness dance together like old friends, and we are just the shadows that flicker against the walls – desperate to become sentient… to be seen.

“What did White say this time?” Bander growls.

“White? As in Nurse White?” Desmond’s head pops up over my shoulder; his hand grips my hip in a punishing grip.

“The one and only dear old sister.”

“Is that ethical?” Desmond questions, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Is anything ethical in this place?”

“Red.” Bander grunts, his one eye piercing into the side of my face, “What did she say?”

I slowly turn my head, hating that he’s making me say it out loud when I know he’s probably seen the videos on Jameson’s little cameras, but I understand why he’s doing it – why he’s making me talk about it .

I have never done well with keeping things on the inside… It’s how she managed to get me locked up here.

“She made me an offer… again.”

“I’ll fucking kill her,” he grunts, pulling me into his chest, “Just fucking tell me I can, and I’ll make sure she never sees it coming.”

“You can’t!” I exclaim, “They’d find out, and I’d lose you forever. I can’t lose you.”

“Is there a way we can keep her away?” Desmond strokes his hand up and down my arm, a soothing gesture, but I shiver from the contact.

“No. She’s about to inherit Wonderland. She has too much control, and I’m scared that once she does that, I’ll be gone.” I voice my biggest fear.

After years of being my sister’s plaything when she wants to play crazy doctor, I know my time is coming to an end.

The sand glass is nearly empty, and when it’s done, I’m gone – forever.

“We won’t let that happen.” Both men voice at the same time.

“She washed away my mural,” I sniff, “The abyss is there, lingering at the back of my mind, wanting to drag me down.”

“Oh, Atropa. Isn’t that what Wonderland does? It’s not a magical other world with talking animals and dragons we can slay. This is the real world, and we are just a speck of dust in a mystical universe that no one has ever quite figured out,” Bander squeezes my hand, “I will hold your hand and your heart while we confront the abyss and laugh into it.”

“Cridhe. Wonderland is yours – you are its queen, and everything else is an illusion. You are strong, stronger than anyone else in these fucked up walls, and we will help you navigate the labyrinth of your mind and face the shadows that want to convince you to leave us together.” Desmond’s hand is like a brand on my skin as his words sink in.

He's right.

I’ve roamed the halls of Wonderland since I was a child, and I saw the magic in this place as I made friends with people who would have been shunned in the outside world.

The only person here who can hurt me is White, but I can’t give in to her offer – I won’t do that to any of the men who have claimed my heart, whether they reciprocate it or not.

We sit in silence for a moment; the anger radiating from Bander lingers in the air, but I let him have it. He needs something other than me and his plants to keep him going while in solitary… and what’s better than a little murderous thoughts?

“We need to go to therapy,” I say, breaking myself from their relaxed grips and making my way into the ensuite .

“Shit. I hope Dusty is ok. I left him with Al.” Desmond gets up from the floor and joins me in the bathroom.

He reaches into the shower, turns the dial to scalding, and starts to strip off.

“He’ll be fine. Al’s a good guy. He’s just struggling right now.”

“I think White is messing with his meds,” Bander says, leaning against the doorway, “She was awfully interested in who his mum was.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Alice.”

“No, who is his mum? I know he is Alice.”

“No. He is Al, his mum is Alice.”

“Surely not. He was sent here for killing Alice, was he not?”

“He was. He killed Alice.”

“Nah. Al doesn’t seem like he could do that. He can barely speak to us without talking to himself. I reckon if he did do it, it’s self-defence.” Desmond argues, interrupting our back and forth.

“Wait. Was it thee Alice that he killed?” I question.

“We don’t know, but if it was, would it not make sense? Thee Alice was mad, mad enough to name her son after her. Maybe he inherited her illness as well as her name.” Bander says, picking at his nails.

“Well, shit. ”

Desmond grasps my wrist, dragging me into the shower with him. Now, the room is filled with steam, and he helps wash me down.

Bander never takes his eye off us, watching Desmond’s movements like a predator tracking its prey.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” I chuckle.

“I like seeing you like this,” Bander comments.

“What naked?”

“Happy Atropa. It’s not often I get to see you like this in this place unless my cock or Jameson is inside of you.”

I roll my eyes at his dramatics, but he isn’t wrong.

The longer I’ve been here, the harder it’s been for me to find happiness unless I’m with one of my men.

Harry can barely stand to be around me nowadays, preferring to spend his time with his animals, and I can’t keep hiding how much it hurts when we used to be so close when we were both first admitted.

Al is a reminder of the innocence we all held when we first walked through those doors, with no clue what waited for us on the inside.

Dusty is part of Desmond, and we share similar interests in art, even though we don’t talk much. But there is no Desmond without Dus and no Dusty without Des.

I thought I would get out of here eventually, that my parents would see that I was not suicidal and that I was just a little sad .

It got more challenging to get out of bed each day, and I guess White managed to convince them that I wasn’t stable enough to be at home.

“Go to therapy, Atropa. Jameson wants you in his office afterwards,” he smirks at me, knowing what’s waiting for me when I get there.

“Will you be visiting?” I slyly ask.

“You’ll be just down the hall. I’ll be able to use you whenever I like, baby. Now, let Desmond finish washing you and get to therapy. I’ll see you later.” He pops his head through the shower door, kisses me softly on the lips, and then leaves.

“Shall we?” Desmond wiggles his eyebrows, the soapy washcloth in his hand.

“We shall.” I laugh at him, stepping back into his embrace.

Abe gives us a curious look when we arrive together, and the others are already there.

I’m always late, and I really thought he would be used to it by now, but alas, apparently not.

“Are you ready?” Abe quirks his bushy brow at us all once we’ve taken our seats, and we all murmur our agreements – not like we have a choice.

He stands from his seat and strides over to the teapot in the corner of the room, which is now whistling on the small hotplate he keeps here for his more eccentric sessions.

He fills five cups halfway with the brown liquid, steam floats up into the air, curling around his face like the smoke from his pipe, and he hands one to each of us.

Al eyes his warily, almost as if he’s waiting for it to come to life and jump from the cup.

“Drink.” Abe orders.

We do, and the tea glides smoothly down my throat. The fruity but earthy taste sticks to my tastebuds, but it’s not terrible, so I quickly finish the rest.

The others grimace as they do the same, and I have to resist the urge to laugh as their faces scrunch up in distaste.

“What a fucked up tea party,” Harry says, laughing at his joke with Doris, who lazily sleeps on his shoulder.

It doesn’t take long for the tea to take effect, and we are all more loose-lipped now that it’s in our system.

These sessions are always the worst, but it’s mandatory, and we don’t have therapy tomorrow because of it, so it’s a win in my mind.

A guard steps into the room, standing by the door.

“Guard, card, card, card,” Al mutters, his entire body twitching as he stares at the impassive-looking guard.

Abe claps his hands, gaining our attention, “Who are you?”

“I’m Red.”

“Harry. ”

“Al.”

“Desmond.”

“Dusty.”

“No…” Abe sighs, “ Who are you?”

“Haven’t we already answered this question?” Al questions.

“Yes, but the answer is always changing, is it not? So, who are you, Al?”

Al taps his foot restlessly against the floor as he thinks, “I am Al. Everyone thinks I am thee Alice, but I have no idea who that is, so I feel confused and like everything is upside down, or is it me who is upside down?”

“And what about the rest of you?”

“I feel like I’m always running but never arriving anywhere. Like I need to be on time, but no matter what time I leave to get there, the clock goes into fast forward, and I never manage to be there on time,” Dusty muses, tapping his finger rhythmically against his leg in time with the watch on his wrist.

Desmond smiles almost unnaturally, all his teeth showing as his lips curve up his face. “I’m here, but I’m not,” he laughs. His playing cards appear in his hand and then disappear.

Harry clears his throat, and I let my eyes roam over him as he looks anywhere but at me. His hair is a bit messier than usual today, and it seems like it needs a trim, but the hat he always insists on wearing hides most of the unruliness. He pushes his glasses back up his face and smiles down at Doris, “Who’s ti say what wi are?” he chuckles, “Perhaps the only truly sane ones are those who dare to see the world differently, and the ones who are outside of these walls are the ones who are truly mad.”

“Fascinating,” Abe mutters, scribbling our answers down on a notepad, “And you Red? Who are you other than the queen of the hearts of Wonderland?”

“Is it so wrong to want love?” I say, though my voice is harsher than I intend for it to be, “Why should I not know what it feels like to be loved when I have been abandoned here by the very people who should love me the most? I’ve already lost everything. Why should I lose more because my sister demands it.”

“Your sister means well, Red. She loves you and is concerned about you,” Abe says, and I growl in response.

“She plays the part of the caring queen, alright. Poor Nurse White , who only wants what’s best for everyone. Always right, always in charge whilst I’m lost in this fucked up world left behind by everyone who should give a shit. She’s a monster, and what she did to Hare should have had her in prison, not working here, making us all her personal little pets.”

“I think you need to calm down. Saying things like that here can have you in solitary,” Abe says nervously, glancing at the guard and then the cameras in the corner of the room .

“Don’t worry, I’m going to end up there anyway.”

I shove up from my chair, storming past the guard who moves out of my way as I approach the door and make my way to Jameson’s office.

I don’t knock and barge into his office.

Jameson’s head lifts from the laptop, pushes his chair back, and taps his leg.

I relax into his embrace, and he buries his face into my neck, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Therapy,” I sigh, “I may or may not have gone on a rant about White.”

“Oh no, and I’m assuming Abe didn’t agree with whatever you were saying.”

“Does he ever?” I lean back further into him, loving how my heart stops pounding against my chest.

Jameson chuckles softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Abe’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s in a tricky situation. He’s wacko, but he’s better than some of the other psychologists we interviewed.” He pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me like a protective shield, and traces soothing circles on my exposed skin.

I take a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly ebbing away. “It all started off fine. He made us drink that funky tea, and it just all went to shit. I couldn’t hold back anymore, and I’m tired of the games in this place.”

Jameson nods, his chin knocking against my shoulder, “White is a thorn in our side right now, but I’ll sort it, ok? Just give me time. But you did the right thing by speaking your mind, my love. Never dull who you are to please others.”

“Thank you.” I turn my head and chastely kiss him.

He tilts my chin up, his gaze locked onto mine. “I will always be on your side.”

“I know.”

“Now, you said you were sick of games, but I had one in mind. You up for it?” he smirks, and I can’t stop the way my lips kick up in a smirk in response.

“I always love our games. What did you have in mind?” I reply.

“Solitary,” he says, trailing his lips down my neck.

“Done.”

“What about a game of chess first?”

“Do you have the drink?”

He nods, pulling open the drawer at the top of his deck and revealing the small vial.

I pull the top, extract myself from his grip, and sit in my seat.

The pieces move across the board in a silent dance of strategy that I’ve never entirely managed to master and a battle of wills.

The sedative I took seems to be kicking in but slower than usual… maybe I’m becoming immune to it?

The minutes tick by on the clock, and slowly, my movements grow sluggish .

I try to focus on the board, but my vision blurs. The pieces seem to dance around… taunting me.

No.

I’m so close to winning.

My eyelids become heavy, and Jameson stands from his seat, filling my hazy line of sight.

“You’re mine, my love, and I’m a jealous man no matter how ok I am with you loving others. You are the only woman who will ever own my heart, and I’d like to hoard you for a little while longer…”

His lips continue moving, but I can’t hear the words that slip from between them, and soon, my eyelids close no matter how hard I fight against the sedative running through my blood.