Obsessive Control ( Under publishing contract )

Someone

Listen - Stela Cole - Love Like Mine.
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Still this bright light. I'm strapped down, this time on this narrow table with tight straps digging into my wrists and ankles. The room is cold, the faded walls seeping with dampness, and a sharp smell of disinfectant chokes me. All I can see is the ceiling above me, covered with dark stains and cracks. Only voices rise near me.

- How could you have unfastened him! You know very well that he is dangerous.

Dangerous... I am only dangerous when my toy is taken from me. Aris... Come back, we're not done yet. A masked face hovers above me, its expressionless eyes hidden behind opaque glasses.

- Mr. Braham, you will remain in isolation today. We do not accept you taking out your aggression on the staff.

I ignore what he just said and try to look around, but the straps are too tight. I see nothing, just the glare of the lamp above me making my eyes hurt.

- Where is Aris? I want to see her!

My voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. The man above me looks at me coldly, his face as rigid as a statue. He better stop immediately or I'll tear his throat out. Where is my adorable little puppy? I need to punish her for trapping me.

- You see, Dr. Danger, what happens when you do not follow the instructions.

He addresses Aris. She is somewhere behind this harsh light in the room.

- Aris, my love, tell him to unfasten me. I'll be nice, I promise.

I laugh at the end of my sentence while squirming, but the straps do not give. I want to see her face, her eyes so deep that devour my soul.

- Close the doors, give him a sedative. You will watch him, Dr. Danger. It's your last chance, do not let him manipulate you.

Footsteps fade away, and the doors creak shut. I hear a sigh and movement in the room.

- Aris, my love, unfasten me. I want to hold you, please... Let me just cuddle you, I promise I won't hurt you again.

She bends over me, her hair brushing my face, and inserts the syringe into my arm.

- Lov, this will calm you down, but you will remain awake. I am watching over you, do not worry.

My thoughts are jumbled, my body is heavy now. I want to talk to her, but I feel like I won't get any response from her. Why is this happening? We were going to get married, and now I wake up in an asylum. It's all mother's fault. If she hadn't pushed me, I would never have woken up.

- Tell me, little puppy, what was my job before I got here?

I lift my eyes to her, searching for a trace of the woman I once loved, but all I see is the face of my jailer. Aris looks at me with a cold, distant gaze.

- You held a significant position, but that's not relevant here. What matters is focusing on your treatment and starting to accept reality.

I shake my head, frustration rising. My memories are blurry, and each evasive answer from Aris only deepens my despair. I am convinced that this is all a plot to punish me. I cannot accept that what I am experiencing is reality. In my mind, Aris plays a cruel role, making me live this torment as a form of punishment for something I do not understand.

- You're not being honest with me. I know something is wrong here. Why have you locked me in this asylum? What am I really doing here?

She steps back slightly, an impatient look on her face.

- I advise you not to cling to illusions. You need to understand that everything you believe is not real. Your mental state needs treatment, and that includes accepting the facts as they are.

I remain there, strapped down, my mind boiling, struggling against the straps and the growing fog of the sedative. I am determined to wait for the moment when the drug will allow me to free myself with the scalpel I've hidden. The heavy silence in the room becomes a backdrop to my frustration and despair as I prepare my mind for the ultimate confrontation with the reality as it is imposed upon me.

I stare at Aris, who sits on a chair near me, taking notes on her constants while silently monitoring. The wound on her cheek, covered with a bandage, is the mark of our confrontation. I inflicted this wound with the scalpel I had hidden, and now I am here, tied up, unable to move.

As I turn my gaze back to the ceiling, the door suddenly opens. I slowly turn my head toward Aris, seeing her crouch next to a boy whose voice echoes in the room.

- Mom, my toy is broken, can you fix it ?

The words strike me like thunder. The boy has eyes the same color as Aris's, but his face is marked by freckles and messy brown hair, very similar to mine. My heart tightens as I realize that this child might be mine.

- I've already told you not to leave the office, Jayden.

The boy, with his bright eyes and a face I recognize as a part of myself, turns his head toward me. My mind races for answers. Since when does Aris have a child? With whom? Am I the father ?

- He's my child, isn't he? I want to talk to him!

Aris stands up, hiding a thread behind her back, and I see frustration paint her face.

- Jayden, go wait for mom in the office and don't leave, okay?

The boy nods and leaves the room. My desire to talk to this child becomes unbearable. I need to know if he's truly mine, to understand how he got here, and to see him with my own eyes.

- Unfasten me!

Aris gives me a cold look, her features hardening.

- Why do you always think you have control over me?

The heavy silence falls again, filled with tension and despair. I remain there, alone with my tormented thoughts, my gaze fixed on Aris, while the mystery of this child and my situation continue to torment me.

- So, I'm right, it's my son?

Aris's face closes instantly. She lowers her eyes to her feet, a chilling cold spreading over her features. Her silence, heavy with meaning, confirms my worst fears. Her reaction is a cold defense, a sort of invisible wall she erects every time the truth becomes too painful.

I continue to discreetly saw at the straps holding me down. Each cut of the scalpel is imbued with desperation and urgency.

- Let me see him, please, he needs me.

Aris remains still, her eyes drifting towards the door. Her rigid posture and evasive gaze betray a deep discomfort. She seems distant, almost impervious, as if the slightest emotion is a threat.

Then, she approaches me. Her eyes, usually piercing, are now icy and devoid of compassion.

- Lov, he doesn't need you. You're a monster. The father of my son died the day he fell from that cliff.

Her voice, harsh and impassive, strikes like a blade. The revelation hits me with an unexpected force. Mother had pushed me off that cliff, and the idea that this child is truly mine deeply shakes me.

Aris turns abruptly, her hands covering her mouth in a gesture of regret. Her face shows a guilt she struggles to conceal. I quickly free myself from the straps with the scalpel, anger mingling with a throbbing pain. In a swift motion, I grab her by the throat, my fingers tightening firmly.

- We have things to discuss. Your behavior will not go unpunished, my love.

The coldness in her eyes, now extinguished, contrasts with the flame of rage and pain in mine. The heavy silence in the room amplifies the depth of our conflict, each exchanged glance intensifying the tension.