Sin of the Saints (Between Delusion and Sobriety Duet #2)

Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

Bellcolor

“ Y es, that’ll be all. See you tonight,” Dr. Abano answers as he buries his face in his hands. I’m supposed to be grateful for having been released, to run for my life, but his distress has been sending pangs through my heart from the moment he stormed into his office. I hold a hand out to him, but at the last moment I decide not to intervene. God knows I’ve got enough shit of my own to deal with.

Before I leave, I whisper, “I hope that what’s haunting you will leave you be soon.”

I carefully close the door behind me, hearing a deafening thud, and my legs swiftly carry me away from there. Instead of turning towards the cafeteria, I head in the opposite direction and leave the main building. I know I’ll cause a riot if I’m absent from breakfast, but my lungs are striving for air, and either way things can’t get any worse.

The rain intensifies and my hair and clothes cling to my skin as I make my way to my usual bench, which faces the mountains. I sit down, close my eyes, raise my head and let the drops hit my face.

Even though I hate the rain, it’s the only thing that can disguise my tears. I banish last night’s background noises from my mind, and sigh with relief as the cold seeps into my bones.

The words pound against my consciousness and I can’t let them loose, because I left my notebook in Dr. Abano’s office, although he didn’t notice that during our meeting. He was too troubled to notice it, or me for that matter. I couldn’t write here in the rain either. But I don’t need it. I relax and lean into the bench, staring at the heavy clouds; the darkness has penetrated the morning hours as well, but the light is fighting back, and lightning streaks across the skies, crying aloud. They haven’t given up yet.

Dr. Abano’s sharp gaze has left tingles of embers on my skin. I can always sense him when he looks at me with his maddening eyes. If he only knew that everything I’d written had been borne of my imagination first, when I closed my eyes and sleep wouldn’t come.

Just like now.

In my mind’s eye I imagine how the session would go if things had happened the way I wanted them to, and not the way life decided after Libretto took it over.

I probe between my legs, under my pants, and I don’t care who’s watching. Especially not He who brings down rain from on high.

Because I’m filthy, filthy, filthy.

Dr. Abano bites the edge of his pen as his eyes rake over me like I’m his most important bit of research. And God, I so hope that I really am that. Sometimes I think he’s the only one who can tell the difference between me and the lies I’ve built up in my head, that he’s the only one who sees the real me.

I’m sick of being invisible. I’m sick of being my father’s secret, with an illness no one talks about because it carries heavy shame.

When his eyes drop to my heaving chest I fix my nails in my thighs, anticipating, my breath halting as he pushes his chair back and approaches me. He seems different today, and I can’t pin down exactly how. I stare at his black slip-on shoes as he stands before me and leans against the desk. I refuse to raise my eyes.

“You really are my forbidden fruit,” he places his hand on my thigh.

“I-I…” I start to say, but my voice betrays me.

“It’s alright, Belle, you can let go when you’re with me.” He caresses my hand and I loosen my nails from my skin, surely leaving behind tiny imprints despite the fabric covering me. He caresses the stinging spot and I tremble. “You really were made for me,” he continues saying the words my fantasy created and I dare to raise my head and meet his hypnotizing gaze. A dark smile spreads across his face, and the air is forced from my lungs.

“S-someone might come in,” I say with some difficulty, knowing it’s pointless. He only touches me after dark, after most of the staff have left the complex and the patients are in their rooms. He told me more than once that he waits for sunset because that’s the time our demons can be let loose to dance, to release their inhibitions, to truly live. I truly and honestly think that he believes that as well, but releasing them during the day is too dangerous a game.

“You think I can stop myself after reading the chapter you wrote about what happened at the barn?” His hand crawls towards my crotch and I feel a sharp stab between my legs as he stops, a mere touch away.

“I-it’s just fantasy…” I continue to insist.

He grunts and tightens his grip on me. “How long will you keep refusing to see what you’re writing between your words?”

“You’re the one who insisted on me writing. You said it would free me.”

“Only your truth will free you, but you refuse to see it.” He wraps his arm around my thighs and lifts me into the air with one swing. He turns me around, seats me on his desk and positions himself between my legs. I choke back a sigh.

“It’s just fantasy.” The lie leaves a bitter taste on my tongue because I know he’s right.

“Not when we make it come true,” he says, and his lips crash against mine. I only hesitate for a moment and then grip his shirt, allowing myself to sink into his intoxicating taste. He moves his hot tongue in my mouth and I join the dance that sweeps me into the passion he ignites in me.

Despite everything created by my imagination, I’m no virgin. My virginity was stolen from me, and I can never get it back, no matter what reality I give birth to. No matter how many times I process my nightmare, no matter how many times Dr. Abano and I talk about it in our sessions.

And if he wants me to acknowledge my truth, the truth is I’m filthy. From the day this devil’s filth contaminated me, I haven’t been able to shake it, and nothing in the world has managed to purify my lost soul.

Dr. Abano grips my hips tightly, bringing me to his stiff erection, and I grunt in anticipation. I need the escape he’s offering me. I’m willing to give in to the call, and my body submits to him. I open the buttons on his shirt and slide it off, ditching the white tank top he wears beneath it as well. His hands pull down my sweatpants, along with the white cotton panties. I shake off my shoes and he removes my socks one by one. I look at him from above and feel my cheeks burning.

“Bar…” I say as he raises his gorgeous eyes to me.

He’s not human, he can’t be. But I know he can’t be an angel either.

Who are you, really, Bartimaeus?

He kisses the soles of my feet and runs his lips up my legs. My heart is pounding in my chest and I’m forced to lean back as my head spins.

“Just let go, Belle,” he whispers, placing a steady hand on my chest and forcing me to lie on my back on his desk. I close my eyes as he buries his face between my legs. He runs his tongue over my wetness and I clutch his hair, bringing him closer so as to deepen the intense pleasure he’s giving me.

“I… I…” Oh dear God, it’s too much. Dr. Abano roughly sucks on my clit, inserting two fingers into me and arching them until I’m sure I’m about to plummet to depths I’ll never be able to escape. When I’m near release, he clamps his teeth on my clit and growls: “I want you to come on my face.” His filthy words push me to the edge and I let out the cry I’ve fought to hold in, making fists on the documents placed around me. “Oh God!” I exhale and finally manage to open my blurry eyes.

Dr. Abano unbuckles his pants and lets them fall. He grips his cock and places it at my opening, leans in and fixes his gaze on mine. In one motion he penetrates me and I want to scream again, but he puts a hand on my mouth. He thrusts into me with sharp, rough, merciless movements. His nostrils flare and his lips are tense as he concentrates on his most intense fuck so far. Because that’s what it is, he’s fucking my soul out.

It’s equally delirious and painful, and I embrace both sensations, it’s the dissonance that rules my life. Because when Dr. Abano is inside me and his scent envelopes me in every direction, the demon in me pricks me with his jealousy, but the satisfaction I’m receiving overcomes any punishment he’ll give me later.

As far as I’m concerned, consequences be damned.

As his nails dig into my skin, I know he’s close. I reach between my legs and massage my clit, so I can come again before he’s done. I have to come again because I can only fall asleep when I’m completely exhausted. It’s better than the sleeping pill and its blurriness.

Dr. Abano increases the pace of his thrusts and I bite his hand to keep from screaming as I come again, so hard I can feel the pain pulsing in my already-exhausted muscles.

“Fuck…” he hisses, pulling out of me, getting dressed and sorting himself out. “Hang on, don’t move, I’ll clean you up.”

I remain lying on the table, eyes closed, trying to sort out my breathing. I don’t move as he cleans me with the tissues on his desk. Not exactly what the box he always keeps carefully full is meant for. He dresses me and puts my shoes on.

When he pulls me into a sitting position, I finally manage to open my eyes. His expression seems haunted and he seems to want to say something, but he stops himself.

“What’s wrong? Was I not good?”

“No, Belle, you were wonderful,” he answers, pressing his forehead against mine.

“Is it because of what I wrote?”

“Yes.” My heart starts galloping at the thought that my imagination might have gone too far. Before I can get my thoughts in order and answer him, he says: “I need to get you out of here.”

I shove him away from me at once. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t talk about it, but your end is nigh.”

I get off the table and smooth out the shirt on my body. “You’ll do no such thing, I’m not leaving.”

He grabs my shoulders and forces me to look at him. “You are, Belle. You’ll leave this place. Something very bad is going to happen, and this time you might not come back to me.”

I knock his hands away. “Maybe, or maybe it’s actually time for me to meet my end. That’s what I’ve been praying for, and I certainly deserve it. It’s time for me to get the answers to all those questions you encouraged me to ask.”

“You’re still looking for answers in places you’ll never find them!”

“Then tell me what else I can do! You suggest I run, but where can I run to? My demons will never leave me be! There’s nowhere in the world I can hide from them, because they’re inside me! So tell me, what am I supposed to do?”

“You have me, Belle. I’ll take care of you.” He tries to approach me but I withdraw towards the door.

“If I don’t help myself first, no one will be able to help me. Not even you.”

It’s time for me to internalize the things Dr. Abano has been telling me again and again. It’s time for me to truly admit the truth he placed before me that I’d chosen to ignore. And the truth is that if I don’t kill the demons living within me, I’ll never be free. Libretto will never allow it.

I disconnect from my fantasy as the church bells ring, announcing the start of mass. I can’t help chuckling. We make plans and God laughs at us. The thing is, I know exactly what’s troubling Dr. Abano. The administrator informed me last night about the planned treatment for today. It came as no surprise to me, because I knew Libretto was out of control.

He’d begun with a declaration that drug therapy had failed. I didn’t dare confess that I wasn’t taking the pills daily, and I certainly didn’t admit to hoarding them for momentary escape. He kept expanding on possible treatments, including electroshock and magnetic therapy, but before I could ask about them, he ruled them out claiming that in his professional opinion they wouldn’t be right for me.

“You’re a complex case, Bellcolor, so we must take exceptional measures,” the administrator said, but wouldn’t reveal to me just what those measures were. “The treatment isn’t as barbaric as many think, but I believe it will be efficient.” All I could do was nod.

Because it didn’t sound like an offer so much as a statement. He’d prepared the document in advance that I signed when I was last institutionalized, waving it around like a silent threat. I’d had no choice then either. The administrator had appeared by my bed the morning I awoke in the hospital, and told me that if I didn’t sign it, they’d forcibly institutionalize me. The word itself frightened me so much, and I thought that if I signed for voluntary hospitalization I’d have some control, but I was dead wrong.

Unfortunately, I realized that the law was as dry as the administrator’s feelings. A signature is a signature, plain and simple.

Even my father turned his back on me when I asked for his help. He sided with the administrator and wasn’t willing to hear anything more on the subject.

“I’ve had enough of your childish rebellion against me, and I’m putting a stop to it. You will no longer defy me and cause more selfish riots. I have spoken.” He wrapped up his speech and earned his throne as a full member of the Council of Demons that my imagination created.

Each of them had earned their seat properly.

And yet I can’t help wondering whether their stubbornness is justified, maybe this treatment will finally banish Libretto forever. So I nodded my consent, despite the fear of the unknown arising in me. Maybe this is the moment of realization I’d been waiting for. Maybe this was what He asked of me – acceptance.

Accepting my inevitable fate.