Two days have passed since my encounter with Lulu, but her presence lingers like a ghost, haunting my every thought.
My mind keeps replaying the vivid dream, the way her touch ignited my senses and pulled me into an intimacy that felt both real and surreal.
Her voice, her warmth, her whispered warnings-everything about that encounter left a mark on me, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.
In the sterile confines of my cell, I find myself longing for her touch, her voice, her presence.
My isolation becomes a breeding ground for obsession, my thoughts looping endlessly around the memory of her seduction.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her, feel her, and the desire burns hotter, consuming me from the inside.
This obsession fuels a strange, voracious hunger. I've never felt anything like it before, a need so intense it borders on madness.
My captors, whoever they are, have kept me fed, but I hardly touched the food at first, wary of what they might have laced it with.
Now, all I can think about is satisfying this insatiable appetite that has taken hold of me.
Today, when they deliver my meal, the aroma of the soup and blanquette de poulet fills the room, overwhelming my senses.
My stomach growls, and a wave of ravenous hunger washes over me. I don't even hesitate-I dive into the meal with an urgency that surprises me.
The warm, rich broth of the soup slides down my throat, soothing and nourishing. Each bite of the chicken stew is a burst of flavor, tender meat and creamy sauce blending into a symphony on my tongue.
I eat with a desperation that's almost primal, each mouthful an indulgence that feels both necessary and indulgent.
The soup, with its delicate herbs and spices, becomes a balm for my tortured soul.
The blanquette de poulet-the tender chicken, the savory sauce-fills me with a satisfaction that borders on ecstasy.
I can't stop; I don't want to stop. I consume everything they've given me, licking the bowl clean, my appetite a bottomless pit.
It's only after the meal Is gone that I realize what I've done. I've eaten everything, not leaving a single morsel behind.
My stomach, now full, churns with a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort. I lean back against the cold metal wall, trying to process the wave of emotions that crashes over me-pleasure, guilt, confusion.
As I sit there, my mind drifts back to Lulu. Her image flits through my thoughts, her smile, her touch, the way she whispered my name.
I try to understand what's happening to me. Was she a figment of my imagination, a hallucination brought on by stress and isolation?
Or was she something more, a piece of a larger, more sinister puzzle?
My thoughts are interrupted by a soft click-the door to my cell opening. I snap my head up, my heart pounding, expecting to see another guard or perhaps the cold, clinical figure who interrogated me. But it's someone new, a different kind of presence altogether.
A tall, thin man steps into the room, dressed in a well-tailored suit that seems out of place in the stark, sterile environment.
His face is obscured by a surgical mask, and his eyes, though sharp and piercing, carry an unsettling calmness.
He holds a clipboard in one hand, glancing at it briefly before turning his gaze to me.
"Enjoying your meal, I see," he says, his voice smooth and devoid of any discernible emotion.
YOU ARE READING
The Edge Of Insanity
Cerita PendekDespite his initial resistance and attempts to rebel against the authority, Étienne Bouchard ended up giving in to their control. Now, he found himself as a guinea pig in their experiment. After struggling with recurring nightmares, he gradually be...
