MADMAN'S ARMS

22

I raised from the cold concrete floor and dried the tears off my cheeks. Brandon was no longer grinning, instead he looked scared and penitent where he stood before me.

I dared to look up at him with big, tear-filled eyes to try to make him realize how he affected me with his choice of action. I wanted more than just his facial expression, I wanted to see if there was possibly any more sign of sympathy or regret in him.

He took another step back away from me and kept his serious face.

"Do you believe me now?" Brandon queried with a voice I never heard before.

The use of my first name still made me feel annoyed, it was too personal when Brandon said it, but that was the last thing I cared about right now.

I fueled my lungs with a couple of deep breaths to remain calm and not run out of the room, which I already should've done minutes ago. Brandon sat down on the side of his bed while waiting for my response.

I didn't know what to say to him. One part of me felt a strong sense of trust, while the other didn't believe for a second that this situation wasn't only a way for him to manipulate me further into his game.

I shook my head while looking at him with disappointment and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You said I could ask you anything to learn that you're not a liar. I have one question," My voice was shaky, but I managed to keep determined since I was eager to dig into his soul. Brandon's eyes got wider.

"Yes?"

Once again, it got quiet for a couple seconds before I finally found the courage to ask the question I didn't even want to know the answer to.

"What do you want from me, Brandon? Are you looking for a victim? Maybe you wish to do what you did to those people all over again? If so, this is the time to tell me." I noticed my voice was far more decisive and severe than planned, but I couldn't care less.

The answer to the question would be the same no matter how it was asked. Brandon tensed his jaw and the veins in his neck got clearer as the blood swelled them.

He bit his lip and I watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply, noticing he was bothered. The nervosity in my body grew with every second as I waited for the answer from the murderer in front of me. I didn't thoroughly know him yet.

I had no information about his past and why he chose to do what he did. Was there even a reason? Or did he just kill innocent human beings because he enjoyed it?

I still wanted to find out, but if the answer to my question was yes, I would run over to Dorothy's office right away to resign my treatment of Brandon, and then I would never find out. But if the answer was no, how could I know that he wasn't lying to me.

"Beverly, what I did to them, I did because I had to. And with the way I feel about you, I prefer you being alive. So... simply, NO... my wish is not to take another life," He responded to the question like it was the most regular one ever. I couldn't understand how it was even possible for him to say that he actually killed innocent people because he had to.

It must be so easy for him to be so numbed on the inside, I thought, so numbed that he couldn't even see the difference between the normal and the abnormal. I knew he was sick and that he deserved treatment, but at this moment, I felt so disgusted by his words and actions that I couldn't feel even the tiniest bit of pity for him.

After only staring at Brandon for another passing minute in the silent cellar, I made my undramatic choice of leaving.

Without even looking at him, I closed the heavy door behind me and began to walk down the long, narrow and dark hospital hallway, away from the gorgeous danger all dressed in white.

I shrugged as I walked past the locked iron doors, trying my best to get Brandon off my mind. I kept my focus on the banging and screaming of the patients inside the locked cellars. Even if the sound of screaming, insane men banging on their doors made my stomach ache, it was nothing to compare with what Brandon had just put me through.

With quick steps, I traced to get out as fast as I possibly could from this madhouse. I refused to believe that I was emotionally taken over by this situation, but unfortunately that was the precise truth.

After this traumatic occasion with the murderer in cell number 401, I felt a strong need to go home.

I felt sick and tired and I was still afraid after what I had been forced into this afternoon. I had to walk down to Dorothy's office to tell her that I needed the rest of the day off, because I knew that I would be unable to keep myself stable here for the rest of the day, so after smoking a cigarette in an attempt to calm my overwhelmed mentality, I walked my way towards the woman's office.

Carefully, I knocked on the door, and as soon as I got approved to open it, I stepped inside to meet with the woman who was in charge of this whole institution.

How could anyone possibly be able to run such a graphic and deplorable place?

I sat down in front of the pale, black-haired woman only to tell her that I felt sick and that I had to spend the rest of the day at home. I still felt too ashamed about the fact that I told the guard to leave me and Brandon alone in his room. It was my fault that this happened, and Dorothy would never let me go home because of a mistake I made myself out of stupidity.

Sometimes a tiny white lie was necessary to keep out of trouble and just get to the point of what was needed, and in this situation, I just needed to go home without further explanation or confrontation.