Sinful Obsession

7. 7 – Ewan

7 – Ewan

T he dimly lit lobby of Briarwood Institute tries to swallow me as I rest my elbows on my knees, fingers tracing idle patterns along the edge of the worn armrest. The silence in this place is heavy, almost as if it’s trying to suffocate every sound but that’s how it’s always been here over the last several years since I was thrown into this prison. What should have been a month or maybe two turned into a few months and then years with no bright light at the end of the tunnel.

A heavy sigh falls from my lips as I stare out at nothing in particular. This lobby has seen countless people shuffled through its doors, individuals hopeful that they’ll find the help they need. Orderlies and doctors push them inside, a sly smirk hiding beneath the gentle smiles as if this is all done for our own good. Those who have been here a while know better. This has nothing to do with healing and everything to do with control.

However, today’s arrival is… different.

Kaua sits beside me, his stoic presence filling the large frame of the lounge beside me. His hands are folded across his stomach, his eyes half-closed as if he’s drifting between awareness and his own thoughts. Despite the silence, there’s an energy simmering just beneath the surface, ready to snap. I’ve learned to recognize it over the years, the way it pulses under his skin. He doesn’t need to say much for me to understand him. War doesn’t talk; War waits.

And then it strikes.

I, on the other hand, fuel my curiosity. It gnaws at me like an itch I can’t scratch, something I just have to pick at until the seams unravel. For years now, the doctors have tried to destroy that itch, that restless need to understand how the world works. They want me to fit into the quiet, perfect mold of Ewan Thatcher, the accountant. A man with a family and happy memories to return to. They insist on things I can’t remember and don’t care about, visitors popping up from time to time begging for me to acknowledge them.

Maybe at some point, I was that person but they are desperately trying to pull me away from the truth.

They call me Ewan . But I know that I am Death .

An eerie shift in temperature follows the silent declaration, a cackle in the back of my mind as a passing orderly pales and then shifts through the lobby faster. They tell me I’m not Death and then treat me as a darkness to be avoided but they are right to be afraid. I don’t remember Ewan Thatcher and the life he lived. I don’t remember the simplicities of Earth or the taste of wealth that the Thatcher family boasts. However, I’m more than comfortable with the cold, creeping sensation that lies deep within me. The essence of death running through my veins.

Because I’m not just Death, but a Horseman—the true Death incarnate. I am merely biding my time in this prison until we are called upon to fulfill our purpose. I chance another glance at Kaua, the man’s eyes now fully closed, his chest rising and falling with every full breath that passes through his lips. He’s a work of art, one of many curiosities I have found myself bound to.

He wears his hair long around his shoulders, much longer than mine, a midnight brown with bits of sunkissed yellow mixed in. The color brings out the dark bronze of his skin, the very same color of his eyes that sparkle whenever he finds a new disastrous idea to attend to. My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I undress him with my eyes, wondering when the next time I’ll find myself under him and at his mercy. Only for Kaua and Conquest—Vito—do I give in.

Only them.

Only ever them.

Kaua clears his throat and I sigh, turning my attention back to the empty lobby, the memory of that small girl running through my head again. She’s several inches shorter than us, no doubt, but the luscious curves on her body make me want to explore. Yet another curiosity, I suppose. What’s different about this one is that she came in with her head high, a human with a resolve, a purpose, a determination.

I have yet to see a new patient that didn’t look withered and beaten before they even stepped inside of here. She was more than just flesh and bone, a shell of herself. I think I’ll enjoy playing with her.

“You’re staring,” Kaua murmurs, his deep voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t open his eyes but he doesn’t need to. He can feel the energy radiating off me, knows when I’m restless. After all, he’s been with me through every twisted, dull year of this place.

“You saw her too, didn’t you?” I reply, my voice low, a hint of amusement lingering in my words. “The new girl.”

Kaua chuckles, acknowledging that he’s just as curious as I am. He’ll never admit it but his silence isn’t lack of interest. It’s his way of watching, cataloging, and weighing every detail with the patience of a professional. Usually where I’m interested, he is as well.

“She’s different,” I say, a wild smile spreading across my lips. It’s been entirely too long since something fascinating walked through that door. “You saw the way they handled her. Like she was dangerous. Special, even.”

Kaua’s lips twitch, a faint smirk that quickly fades. “They say that about everyone who comes through here.”

“True,” I agree, but the feeling lingers. There’s something about her. Something that tells me she means more to this cause than just a human dragged here to heal. My gaze trails down the back hall where she disappeared. Will she be different when she realizes the truth about this place? That there’s no true escape? Or will that fierce look in her eyes remain regardless of her circumstances?

It’ll be at least a day until we see her. They always keep the new ones isolated to break them down and drug them up until they truly believe that this place will make them better. Somehow, I think it’ll be a little more difficult for them this time around. She’s got that look about her, the kind that says she’s not easily undone.

The silence is broken as an orderly walks by, a folder clutched to his chest. His gaze meets mine briefly before he shrieks and then slaps a hand over his face to keep the sound from echoing. I throw in a snarl, enjoying the way his face blanches and he stops just feet from us. It doesn’t help that Kaua chooses that moment to sit up, those large brown eyes piercing into the orderly’s soul.

“Who’s the new girl?” I ask, gesturing to the hallway. Patients shouldn’t be this close to the entrance but there’s very few orderlies who tell us what to do. In fact, most of our time is spent wandering this ghastly place with no way to get out. I mean, we’ve tried just waltzing out the door but the week in solitary with minimal food and less sunlight than we already get isn’t worth it.

The orderly swallows, glancing at Kaua as if he’s hoping for some kind of interference or a reason to scream. My beautiful monster isn’t stupid, though. He won’t incite something he can’t finish and he’d find no enjoyment tearing this orderly limb from limb. When nothing happens, the orderly’s shoulder falls. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll meet her at dinner.”

“We all know that’s bullshit,” I smirk, raising an eyebrow in jest. The orderly shuffles back but doesn’t leave. “They never show up on the first day. They’ll keep her locked up, run their little tests, poke around until they’ve squeezed out whatever truth they’re looking for.” My first day was horrid. I kept yelling that I was telling the truth, that I was Death and needed to find my Horsemen, I was ignored, prodded, drugged, and left there in the darkness for days. I hope they won’t be doing that to the new girl.

The orderly’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as discomfort settles in his expression. They’re always like this around me, even the doctors sometimes. They must know that I’m Death and that Kaua is War. It’s the only expression for them to be terrified. They know what I am, or at least they sense it, like animals sensing a predator lurking in the dark.

Without another word, the orderly hurries off, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he disappears from sight. “I’m going to see her tonight,” I murmur, more to myself than to Kaua, though I know he’s listening. “Before the others get to her.”

Kaua shifts beside me, drawing my attention. “You’re taking a risk,” he says. Strangely, he’s been my voice of reason as if that makes any sense. War holding back Death? Who knew that would be a thing? And yet, I still see the understanding in his expression. He knows that I need to explore this curiosity until it no longer captures my attention. With nothing else to do in Briarwood, she’s a shiny new toy for me to dissect.

“Maybe,” I muse, tapping the armrest. “But I need to know.”

Kaua just nods, leaning back in the chair again and closing his eyes. His steady breaths soothe the rampant urges but I won’t be able to sit still for long. “Don’t break the pretty thing, Ewan. Not yet. Not until we know why she’s here.”

“I don’t break my toys, Kaua.” This time, the cackle that follows echoes through the lobby.