Page 40 of Teddy Bear

It was very possible.

Journalists wrote about anything and everything, looking back at the history of his mental health - but mostly about the man who appeared in complete darkness, as the brightest, most wonderful, divine light, which on the surface managed to pull out one soul (mine - what an irony), about Danny who, after this shocking loss, took Elizabeth Dawson, Tyler Dawson's daughter, who herself tried to commit suicide, into his arms and gave her hope of a new life (oh yes, his tongue and swollen, pulsing flesh really did a great job of giving her new hope).

It all sounded a bit comical, like a sour joke, but that was my life now, a kind of faded charade, all twisted and freaky - a garden circus of freaks in which I was the main attraction and Danny my proud protector (do all these people know what you do to me in the dark, Danny?).

Today's dinner and party were organized, in addition to the future wedding, as a sweet occasion for celebration, also in honor of my remarkable recovery.

Or at least that's how Danny portrayed it in public.

My remarkable recovery consisted, as I said, of heavy doses of sedatives and antipsychotics, and Danny's careful selection of absolutely everything that concerned me.

For some reason Danny was convinced that he knew what was best for me - starting with the selection of chaste, girly, well-cut and styled dresses that replaced my ripped jeans, mini skirts and crop tops, minimal jewelry with small, silver medallions each engraved with DD (Danny Dustford) on the back, and choosing my nutritional diet - perfectly balanced food and a day-night regime that had to be followed and strictly observed.

And I didn't really have an opportunity to refuse.

I believed that Danny was aware of how disgusted I was with everything he was choosing for me, and that he was doing it on purpose, to see to what extent I was willing and able to submit and accept his absolute control.

Well, since I started a new life with him and his lovely chosen one, you could say that I really lost all measure.

If Danny enjoyed dressing me up, undressing me and leading me around like his little circus freak, I enjoyed it even more.

Each of his icy glances across the table, each sharp tap on the shoulder in passing, and each subtle rebuke caused a mixture of exciting and sickening churning in my stomach that drove me crazy in a way that I quickly became addicted to.

In a sick circus charade, I was Danny's main attraction and, at the same time, behind the scenes, his antidote and a disease for which there was no cure, a merciless passion he had no choice but to surrender to, in the only way he knew how, twisted, cold, calculated, and deeply disturbed.

I enjoyed myself as Danny paraded me around, all proud and important, the taste of his cock still fresh in my mouth.

All this amused me immensely, morbidly and crazily - a way that only mad people can enjoy.

I shake the glass of mineral water, feeling the cool liquid against my hot skin - Danny's gaze is reaching me and shooting at me from across the room - I feel claustrophobically sick and tinglingly excited all at once.

I make my way through the small crowd of people to get to him, at the other corner of the room; how bold and disobedient, I know, but tonight, more than anything, I want to challenge him.

The old fire was still, unchanged, burning in me.

My low, patent black heels and a fitting, chaste, and luxurious black dress are in contrast to the thin and pale body - Danny made an incredible effort to create the image of me as a "cured" and "saved" ward, but unfortunately, he was not very successful in this.

The circles under my eyes are deep, crescent-shaped, and dark, and my eyes shine wildly and hungrily through the crowd of irritating, excited people.

I don't care about them tonight; it’s all too much, crazy, corny. I don't care about Olivia or her fucked up party or her desperate attempts to awaken something long extinguished in me with endless warmth, mixed cookies, and ironed clothes.

Guess what, Liv, my parents fucked me bad, and there was no going back.

All I want now is him.

I approach him, bolder and more cheeky than I should, while he is deeply engrossed in one of his many quasi-intellectual conversations with overbearing doctors and donors.

His gaze almost makes me freeze in place - oh, I love this game, refusing obedience, and testing him this publicly, this shamelessly, this blatantly.

-Lizzie!

Danny exclaims, unnaturally happy, wrapping his arms around my bare shoulders in an intimate gesture. His posture and every gesture of his body tell me only one thing - how dare you defy me like this?

-This is my ward, Lizzie.

Danny smiles broadly as I, charmingly, with a wide, well-rehearsed smile, greet the older, chubby, wrinkled gentleman who carefully takes my hand and holds it in his for longer than necessary.

-You are an extraordinarily strong girl. Just keep fighting.