Madness.

3.

I woke up to a sun much brighter than the one I knew well.

I smelt the sea.

And I smelt a man

and expensive cologne.

My mind is quiet now, and I don't remember this silence.

I'm lost. Somewhere between my mind and these pretty silk sheets. I don't know where I am. I don't remember.

I rose from the bed, clad in a man's shirt.

This isn't Arthur's. It's foreign.

It's pretty here. All white and modern and marble and wood.

A beach house.

A large one at that. It's quiet, though. And clean.

Too clean.

It looks unlived in.

Arthur would despise this place. He was a man who enjoyed small, useless trinkets.

And I was his favourite toy.

I preferred simplicity, but for him I would compromise.

I walk out of a bedroom. Tugging this shirt as low as I can. My hands glide across my frizzy mess of a hairstyle but I'm not bothered. I don't know where I am. How did I get here?

I shouldn't be here.

I should be dead.

I should be playing with the waves. My friends.

I keep walking towards a kitchen.

A kitchen with a man. A gorgeous man. Shirtless, blond and masked with muscle.

And I smell pancakes.

Some blueberry, others chocolate.

Who is he? Why am I here? In a shirt that I think is his.

I don't get it.

I didn't sleep with him. Right? No. No, I didn't. I don't remember?

What if he drugged me?

What if I am the whore my family said I was?

"I didn't fuck you, if that's what you're wondering" He answered the question I didn't ask.

He doesn't turn around. Remorse doesn't like him very much. He flips his pancakes without a care in the world.

"Where am I?" I ask.

"Safe." He says.

"And where is that?" I continue. I am persistent.

"With me." He says. He's too vague.

"You're too vague" I say.

"I know." he says. He knows.

"Help me." I ask. Please?

"I am" He replies.

"Where am I?" I ask again.

"Here." He smirks as he states the obvious.

It's clear that this is his game. He will not lose.

A plate of warm pancakes is placed on the counter top before me.

I am starved and my stomach wants it known.

"Eat" He commands.

"I want to know where I am" I am persistent.

"Eat and I'll tell you" So is he.

"I don't trust you"

"What choice do you have?" He has the most gorgeous smile. I stop talking and obey.

See, I'm not so stubborn anymore.

He's watching me eat.

I think to myself, enjoying the fluffiness of my pancakes.

Perhaps this is poison.

Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to think I was safe here.

How fitting it would be to die like this.

'Death by pancake'

I want that engraved into my tombstone.

Those three words. That's all. I don't need a date, or a name. Only that.

"What is your name?" He asks.

My name?

I've had many.

Once it was Queen and every derivative of baby.

Once it was sister and daughter and fiancée.

It used to be Loved.

It used to be Anne, Ry, Ryan and Rue.

No one said my name in full.

Perhaps they hated the taste it left.

I was an acquired taste, one unloved by those who should've.

Last night it was whore,

It was bitch,

It was slut - the whole ensemble of words meant to hurt me.

My name?

Which one?

I've had many, which do you prefer?

"Ryanne... But I'd prefer you call me Rain"

"Rain..." It sounds beautiful from his mouth. Like thunder and lightning. Like hail and hurricane; Chaos- A disaster is coming and he is it's master.

Or perhaps, I only wish him to be?

"Tell me Rain, which kind are you?" He asked, lost in his own mind. "Are you drizzle or hurricane?"

Both.

"I used to be drizzle, now I can't tell"

He smiles a full toothed smile.

"Lies" He said "I think you're both."

How could he tell?

"What's your name?"

He's silent for a while. Thinking.

"Why where you at the beach last night?" He asked, deflecting my question.

"It's obvious -" I say.

"It is, but I want you to say it"

"I was running" I sigh.

"From who?" He asks.

"Myself."

"Why?"

Because I'm everything they said I was, I think to myself

"Thank you, for the pancakes."

I ignore his question. Like he did mine.

"Where am I?" I ask once more.

"Near the beach." He says

"Can I leave?"

"No"

I can hear the waves say they'll be patient. They'll wait for my return.

Don't worry old friends. I'll be there soon.