MADMAN'S HAVEN

19

Friday, January 3rd, 1958

"Happy birthday dear Beverly, happy birthday to you!"

My friends' drunk voices surrounded me in an ugly choir as I sat centered in my kitchen in front of a light-up birthday cake. I giggled out of sudden happiness and the awful singing. It was always awkward to be the seated one while everyone stood up around you to sing the traditional birthday song.

I forced my smile to stay as the song ended, and I tried to keep myself from cringing as the room turned silent and left me to blow out the twenty-five candles that were peacefully burning on top of the handmade cake.

Dolores was for sure no baker, but her gesture of care was enough for me to absolutely love the cheap masterpiece of cake she made.

In my current state of mind, I hated to be at the center of attention. I just wanted this party to turn into the purpose of getting drunk with friends instead of celebrating me. The only reason I agreed to host the party was because of Dolores's nagging. I also saw the perfect opportunity for me to get drunk and paralyze my feelings for a while, and here I was.

"Are you having a good time?" I slipped on my words as I smiled at the game piece that stood in front of me with a drink in his hand.

He looked around himself, and I could spot a bit of disgust in his eyes.

He probably thought that I wouldn't notice, but since I was literally educated in reading people, I could spot every tiny detail of switch in a person's mind.

"I am, thank you!" His white teeth formed a fake smile, and my drunk self decided to take advantage of the situation.

He was lying.

The game was on.

I smiled back at him, but left him in the awkwardness of silence between us. He was uncomfortable here, around my friends, in my home.

Was he ashamed of something? Of me?

"Beverly, can I speak with you, in private?" His words made me curious, and without further thought, I grabbed his hand.

"Of course, Donald!"

I realized that I acted like a child, but this was my party, it was my birthday and there was no one I had to prove myself to in my own home.

The door to my bedroom closed behind us and the silence embraced our drunk bodies.

Donald stood in front of me, and appeared a lot more stable than I probably did. His face showed something I hadn't seen in him before, and I looked back at him with a rude face to provoke whatever problem he had this time.

He sighed loudly.

"What is this?" He made a gesture with his hands to make it clear that he was referring to me and my hosted party.

I played along.

"What, Donald?" I asked with a bit more aggressive voice than planned.

He looked back at me like I was dumb. If he only knew that I was the complete opposite.

"All of this? This isn't you? The clock is nearly 5 pm and you're as drunk as a lord already,"

What the hell was this man's problem? He wanted to make it up to me, yet he showed up to my birthday party to act like a jerk.

The anger grew inside of me. How could I ever feel pity for him when he was such a caught-up dork?

"What are you talking about? It's a birthday party," I grinned as I spoke, it was hard to hide the boiling irritation.

Donald rolled his eyes, and now it was his turn to grin. I wanted to explode. Why didn't he just get out of here if he was so ashamed of me and my friends?

"You're acting like a child, and I don't like it," His eyes turned more serious as he spoke out.

I wanted to kick him so hard out of my apartment. But the conversation was too exciting, I wanted to wait until the perfect moment of humiliation arrived. I was the one in charge here, and I would make sure to aware him of that.

"Oh, you don't like it? I'm sorry, Donald," I kept myself serious but allowed the sarcasm to come through. I would never apologize to him for having fun.

"What the hell is your problem?" I filled in.

"I don't like it when my woman acts out like a slapper. You are an adult, Beverly,"

My eyes widened. His woman?

Where did this come from? This was not the kind civilized gentleman that I knew. He just reffered to me as a prostitute.

I laughed out of surprise.

Then the moment stopped, and I froze like a mannequin.

A flare burned through the left side of my face as the shock from sudden violence entered my body.

I got dizzy and close to faint, but I pushed through with every strength that was left in my body.

My instincts realized that it was not a good idea to pass out in front of this man, since now he appeared to be capable of things I never would've imagined.

Donald looked furious as he stood in front of me. His fist was still tied in anger, but he didn't dare to say a word.

A flash of realization went through my brain. This man was a facade.

A guardsman at a mental institution, who was on the right side of the law. Highly educated in profession as in complaisance. A beautiful man, with a smile for no one to reject, and a friendly persona filled with all requirements of a true gentleman.

That perfect man was a fraud. A shapeshifter. All along he was the one playing the game. The game of manipulative seduction, leading his victims into his capture. It all was a hunt. He was looking for the perfect victim.

My only savior in this situation was myself. If I didn't play my own game against him, I would probably have fallen for his insulting assertion and blamed myself as if he was right. Because that's what this type of men do.

They manipulate the woman until she's caught. Tear her down until there's nothing left but a shell of destruction, and until there's nothing more to believe in than him. They find reasons to hit, to rape, and to punish, then they convince the woman that's what she deserves.

There was no fright left in me after everything I had been through, and this situation made me thankful for that. I refused to let this man have his victory. I wanted him to know that a thrown fist was not the right move to bring me down.

I was not his prey. He was mine all along.

"Get the fuck out of my house, Donald,"