MADMAN'S ARMS

10

I stood in front of the mirror in the tiny bathroom. My hands were humid and my heart was still not beating in a healthy rhythm. I tried to breathe as slowly as I could to settle down but it didn't seem to work.

I didn't know what was going on at this moment. Why was my body reacting so extremely poignant?

Generally, I was a stable woman with a strong mentality. Especially after what I had been through myself in the past.

After my time in rehab, I changed into someone I always wanted to be. I became the hard, strong one who was going to help people. I didn't want to be the person who needed help anymore.

Also, I had treated people before, people who had a criminal past or a violent act. I had almost two years of experience from my practice so this was nothing new to me.

Back at Wimbledon, there were several times I had been hurt or attacked by patients who outburst. But after all, I was the one who decided that I wanted to work with people like that, people like Brandon. I made the choice myself because of my strong persona and my dramatic past, and I didn't regret anything about that just because I was currently trembling in one of the hospital bathrooms.

I left the claustrophobic facility on my floor and began to walk through the hallway towards the pharmacy section. After my agreement with Dorothy, my schedule was changed for this morning already.

With Brandon's file in my hands, I gave the names of his drugs to the pharmacist. Now it was just a matter of minutes until I would meet with him for the first time. I still wondered why he wanted me. Was he like Jacob, who got extremely excited over new people? Or was he mad about my stare the other day and wanted to threaten me?

I didn't know, but I knew I was unfortunate, being the one he pointed out and forced into his radar.

The sweet, red-haired pharmacist handed over the cup with the requested pills and I thanked the woman with a friendly smile. Every time I held medications in my hands, my heart began to beat faster. But I knew so much better...

It was finally time to get to his ward. As far as I knew, Brandon was guarded both day and night, so his cell would be in the monitored section of the hospital, ward number 5.

I reached the right hallway and the entrance to the ward. As this area had super strict security rules, there was an extra door into the cellar hallway. The second I stepped inside the corridor, the energy changed in an instant, and I shrugged by the unpleasant shivers appearing all over my body.

I passed by a couple of guardsmen on my way down the ward hall and they all looked at me with their square, harsh faces. I thought it would have to take quite a lot for a person to work as a guard in a section like Ward 5 at a mental institution.

You could see in the appearance of every one of them that they were male machines, with their broad, taut body figures and their empty, emotionless faces. Even if they were here to protect me and make me feel safe, I still got a little disturbed by the lump placing my stomach as I met my eyes with theirs.

With every step forward, my heart uncontrollably decided to race one beat faster, and as I reached cell number 401 at the very end of the corridor, I took a deep, heavy breath before the guard beside me followed my steps inside the cellar.

This was the moment where I would meet with the proclaimed psychopath, and I knew I needed to hide away every glimpse of fright.

"Good morning, Mr. Barlowe," I said with respect as I looked at the young man who was seated in his bed. He could probably hear my heart pound as I waited for his response. It was just too quiet in the concrete cellar. He looked up at me and a big grin formed his pink lips.

That grin again. It brought me goosebumps, and I instinctively took a step back from the strong discomfort.

"Nice to meet you, new girl," He sneered. He was making me so uncomfortable, and I had only been here for a short moment. I kept calm and confident, not to make him believe that he had any power over me.

"Nice to meet you too," I stated. I sat down on the chair standing beside the door, and the guard stood in a rigid position in the corner of the room to my right. Brandon sat up in his bed, still with his back leaned against the gray wall.

"So, what name belongs to this young creature?" He inquired as he inspected me from head to toe. Did he try to humiliate me by calling me creature?

"My name is Beverly Frazier," I responded determinately. I could tell that his umber, dark eyes were trying to penetrate my mind but I refused to let him succeed.

"Beverly, what a beautiful name," He said with a calm, foul voice. I shrugged my shoulders discretely and I tied my fists out of abashment. I knew what he was trying to do and I refused to let him win.

He wanted to make me weak, he wanted me to fall for his flattering compliment so that he could force his way into my brain and manipulate me. I knew what was going on in his mind, all he wanted was power and control.

"Nurse Frazier, please," I corrected his calling of my first name. I had to stay resolute.

"Well then, Nurse Frazier... How are you this morning?" His grin made me sick. I sighed out loud.

"That is my question to you, Brandon,"

"Oh, me? I'm doing just fine. Even better since you entered the room actually," I turned my head to the right to look at the guard who was standing a distance from me. He looked back at me and moved his head in a small motion, and as I got a bit more settled by the confirmation of his presence, I turned my head to look at Brandon again.

"I need you to take your medication," I demanded. For this meeting to get somewhere, I had to act this way against him. I wanted him to know that I was the one in charge.

A psychopathic person had no tendency to feel, only to act. They were smart and often knew exactly how to slowly screw themselves into peoples heads.But the way Brandon spoke to me, only made it easier for me to understand him and his state of mind.

As long as I could handle him this way, he could speak to me however he wanted, as long as he didn't make any further movements against me.

I took the pill cup and reached my hand out to the dirty-blond, mysterious man who sat on his bed in his bad-boy position.

He leaned forward to take the cup from my hand, and as he reached for it, he slightly happened to touch my finger with his own and the bumps covered my skin once again as the time completely stopped between us.

"Of course, ma'am,"