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I opened my eyes. The white walls of the room seemed to close in on me as I sat at the table with my bingo card and chips in front of me. With nothing else to do, I re-closed my eyes and tried to embrace the sound of other mental patients screaming at one another but a scraping noise caused my eyebrow to twitch, and I shifted my gaze towards the source.
A girl I hadn’t noticed before sat at a table directly in front of me, near the window. Her long blonde hair fell in front of her face as she drew away on a piece of paper.Who was that girl?From the way she looked, the things she had and the clothes she wore, she had to be new, and nonthreatening. I swallowed a bitter taste in my mouth as I continued to stare at her.Why the hell was she here?Did she get into a fight with her boyfriend and go crazy when he broke up with her? She seemed like the type of girl who would probably slash his tires and let Daddy pay for the damages.
Like a fucking princess.
My eyes locked with hers, and I saw a surge of panic flicker across her face. Her hand froze midair, a telltale sign she caught me staring at her.
Good.
Leaning in closer, I rested my chin on my palm, openly observing her with no sense of guilt. Her discomfort was evident as she stiffened under the intensity of my gaze, and I couldn't help but revel in it. My cock instantly grew hard.
I imagined myself behind her, with her drawing away as I fucked her from behind, my hand on her throat. I wanted to taint her. I wanted to rub my blood along her skin, so she knew she belonged to me. She would belong to me. She just didn’t know that yet.
One aide made their way over to her, carrying a tray of something I couldn’t see, but assumed was an afternoon snack. The princess didn’t register that someone was standing next to her. She only noticed my eyes on her. I watched as she shifted in her seat, trying to hide from the intensity of it all, but it didn’t help.
I leaned in, tilting my head to get a better view. I wondered what the princess was named.
“Barbara?” The aide said loudly.
She jumped and swiped her arm against the notebook that lay on the table in front of her. Before she could grab it, the book slid off the table and tumbled to the floor. In the fall, a piece of paper fell out of the notebook, with a drawing that looked completed. I heard a chair scraping against the marble floor and footsteps inching their way closer to me, but I ignored it as I picked up the drawing that made me even more curious about the princess.
Chapter2
Barbie
The first thing I noticed when I arrived at Murdoch Home for the Mentally Disturbed was that everything was white. The walls, the floors, the patient outfits. They were all disturbingly white. It made my teeth ache.The scent of lemon and bleach filled the air, masking the scent of death that was Murdoch Home.
I looked around my room and nodded at how neat everything was.My foster mother always made a fuss when I didn’t make my bed or when there were just too many things lying around my room. She complained when guests came over and I never understood why; no one was coming into my bedroom.
I hated how I felt, as though she would barge through the door even now and yell at me to dust or sweep or do something productive.
My satisfied smile quickly melted away as I stared around my room. I didn’t like that it was neat and tidy. I didn’t like how it made me feel as though I was still at home.
I wanted to make it messy.
I walked over to the side of my bed and untucked my bed sheets so they lay crumpled in the middle, smiling at how exhilarated I already felt.The relief of it all made me want to draw.
I grabbed my notebook and pencils and headed to the common area for a change of scenery. In the large room, there were a couple of patients screaming at one another. A woman with two pigtails convulsed from her head side to side, as though she were trying to shake the thoughts right out of her. A man closest to the window stared out of it, repeating the same phrase like a broken record. I made the mental note to not stare too much or approach any of the other patients.I sat at the farther end of the table, away from everyone else near the window. I opened my notebook and my mind wandered onto the page.
When I first stepped into Murdoch Home, the nurse told me I could bring my own belongings. Since I wasn’t a severe patient, they didn’t have to worry about me killing myself. Because I couldn’t kill myself by masturbating.Since I wasn’t considered dangerous, I was probably the only patient allowed to hold a pencil.I sketched away, expanding my imagination, and without meaning to focus on something naughty. Something even God would deem unforgivable.
My eyes traveled up to find a guy sitting across from me at the next table. Something was oddly familiar about him, and it made every limb in my body numb. It was like I was staring at myself in the mirror, a weird and odd sensation of comfort washing over me. Something I hadn’t felt in such a long time.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at me so intensely that my body grew hot. His eyes were dark and swirling, like pouring cream into a cup of the blackest coffee. His blond hair had a mind of its own, never looking tidy, but not looking a complete mess either. Tattoos traveled down from his neck to his arms, his veins bulging just underneath his pale skin. I imagined what it would be like to be under him.
Wait.
I shook my head internally and lowered my gaze, avoiding the man covered in tattoos. I was here to heal, not to think about him. But I couldn’t resist stealing another glance, only to find that he was already staring back at me. I turned my head away swiftly, but I could still feel his gaze lingering on my flushed skin.
“Ms. Barbara,” someone called, and the sound of my name startled me out of the trance I was in.
When did this person get here?
My elbow brushed against the edge of my notebook, making everything fall to the floor. I dropped my head slightly, letting my hair hide the blush that crept across my face.
“I’m going to leave your snack here,” the aide, dressed in purple scrubs, said to me before walking away.
I didn’t acknowledge the tattooed guy as I tried to pick up my very disturbing art work but my heart sank as I noticed one of my pieces had landed right in front of the enigmatic inked stranger, just under his feet. It was the one I hoped he wouldn’t see. A graphic depiction of two people fucking on a table. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught in this way.
