Deranged Lust by Tina Mahnam (free ebooks for android .txt) 📕

the door, pulling Kara inside by her arm without any warning, clearly panicking her about what was going on. "What in the world is going on, Rebecca?!" She half whispered, half yelled. I told her to take a seat before I start talking. "I think I married a psychopath..." I spilled. She didn't understand at first, it was just forty seconds of her staring at me to find out whether I was being serious or not. She chuckled nervously in response, "Yeah, right." 

I gave her the longest eye-stare I could, and that's when she gasped, knowing I was speaking the truth. "What? How!? Since when??" She freaked out externally, not knowing how to react. I have to give her the credit, if my best-friend told me she married a lunatic I wouldn't know how to react either. I ran my hand through my hair, plainly having an anxiety attack, "I didn't notice before his best-friend told me." 

"Johnathan?" She questioned, I nodded in response. "How do you know him?" She spoke no word. Her eyes travelled down to the wood, so I decided to not continue questioning her any further. "He told me the whole story about Bruce dating his sister, and after she cheated on him, he and her fought, and on that very moment she happened to 'accidentally' fall down, hit her head, and get paralyzed for life." I sarcastically spoke.

"Well, how do you know Bruce isn't lying? Maybe that's really what happened." She shrugged, but what surprised me was that it was the first time she was disagreeing with me. She never disagreed on me with anything. I tried to ignore that issue, and continue to release my nervousness out on her by the rants, and proofs I've been dying to tell someone for the past few weeks. "But what's even more eerie is that when I overheard Bruce's conversations with one of his co-workers or something, he clearly stated to make sure John wouldn't be found anywhere around me, because he doesn't want John stealing another one of his girlfriends? Does that even make sense?"

"Maybe John's the person who made Bruce mad. Who do you even know to trust? They both have totally different stories." She uttered in vexation, scratching the back of her head, lost in the whole situation. I clapped my hands referring to what she said earlier, "That's exactly what I'm saying! Those two have totally different stories. I've heard all of Bruce's from John, but I don't know what John's story is." Kara then suggested me to simply ask Bruce for it, "I will...but that's not the only weird thing that has happened to me this whole time I've been with Bruce." I played with my nails, not being able to really look Kara in the eyes, because somehow the more I talked about Bruce the more she gave me really uncomfortable stares for some odd reason. So, I just decided not to have any eye-contact with her while I'm illustrating, which surprisingly worked. I notified her about what had precisely happened when me and Bruce met, and the whole one day turning into a year thing which was really a puzzle for me.

"Nothing makes sense. How did I even drown in the first place? Not to mention after that one-day date, how the actual hell did it turn into a year?" I didn't receive any feedback. All that was heard was the silence of the tension surrounding the room. I called for Kara, she looked at me in the eyes and finally admitted, "Rebecca..have you thought about the fact that maybe these problems are all coming...from you?" 

I gave Kara an anxious glare for a straight minute, my hands started to shake along with my legs, "W-What do you mean?" My eyes teared up, I was terrified of what she was going to say, because I know Kara, and I know that whatever she says. She means it. She never lies about what she's thinking. At least not to me. "Rebecca, maybe all these foolish situations are coming from your head...maybe these events aren't really happening. You're the one who's making them happen," She tapped my temple, "All in there." 

I felt my chest tighten. I couldn't breathe for seconds, making me suffocate inside. "Rebecca?" Kara called out for the fourth time, the other three making me realize that this suffocation caused me to go deaf too. "Get the fuck out, Kara." She tried to speak, but I screamed right in her face. She let out a look of guilt then walked out the room without speaking another word.

I threw my body backwards and laid on the bed, tears streaming down my face about the thought that maybe I'm the one who's slowly going crazy. Maybe none of this really isn't happening. Maybe it's all coming from me.

It'd all make sense if it was true...It'd definitely all make sense if it was really true, but that's the thing. I don't want it to be true.

 

Chapter 6 - Mistreated

 

Four weeks. It's been four weeks since I've barely ate like a decent mortal being. I'm dehydrated, I can't seem to be thinking clearly, and I feel like I'm going to pass out every second I get up from sleeping, but I can barely call it a sleep. Feels more like dozing off. 

Three weeks. It's been three weeks since I've been seeing a therapist which Bruce forced me to go. I haven't spoken a word ever since I went to the sessions anyway. I just don't feel comfortable with releasing my inner thoughts and feelings anymore. I feel like it's all futile and pointless.

What's the point of being sane when I know any day now, whatever that's going on in my head will get bigger and bigger, and will soon cover the whole capacity of my brain. Turning me into the real lunatic. 

"Rebecca? Are you with me?" I raise my head to glance at the therapist sitting in front of me, having the same concerned expression she always had for the past three weeks. The moment I stepped into this room I noticed how she would look at me as if I was hopeless when I really am dejected, and she was right. I am hopeless. "Do you think we can end this session earlier today?" I asked, my voice barely audible. She released a sigh of disappointment then mumbled a yes, then wrote something down on her clipboard. As I was about to leave the room, the therapist called Bruce inside so she could talk to him. I felt suspicious, but at the same time I really didn't care. It was probably another speech about how I'm mentally unstable and need more medications to keep my lifestyle balanced. These medications would benefit them financially anyway. Since when did these therapists really care about our mental health? All they really care about is the salary they gain throughout selling all these stupid, ineffctive pills.

But oh boy was I wrong. I leaned closely to the closed door and eavesdropped on their dubious conversation. "I've came up with a solution that might help with Rebecca's current situation." She spoke, Bruce asked her politely to continue and his voice sounded kind of desperate for whatever help they were going to offer if I'm going to be honest. "Right now she doesn't really have a priority in life, she doesn't have someone to depend on in life, and is hopeless, thinking that she doesn't have any goals to go for." I shrugged to myself. She wasn't wrong. My life's entertainment ended weeks ago, and my reason to die was growing stronger and stronger every second of the day. "What are you exactly suggesting, doctor?" 

"She needs to get pregnant." I fell right to the floor the moment she brought up the subject of pregnancy. The receptionist rushed over to me to see if I was doing okay, but I begged her to not speak of it. She nodded then headed back to her own business. I leaned in and continued to listen to what they were discussing. "By having a baby, she'll see that baby as a priority, and would never do anything to leave and hurt him or her as a mother. At this stage of her life she doesn't need someone to take care of her. She needs to take care of someone else. And that someone is you and her baby." I felt my hand harden into a fist, I was furious with this horrible recommendation. Was she in her sober mind? Oh right...everyone at this institute were on their right minds, except for me. "But doctor, we haven't gotten married yet, or won't get to do that anytime soon until she has gotten better. Do you think this will affect anything?" Please say yes, please say yes.

"Not at all. I advise you two to try it out tonight, and see what happens tomorrow. She might gain after-birth depression due to her condition, but it'll last for a maximum month." 

I ran as far as I could. The receptionist ran after me, trying to follow the path I dashed away from. I couldn't handle staying in that lobby, and definitely not when Bruce comes out and takes me home where he gets the chance to get me pregnant. I don't want a child. I, myself, am a child- I won't be capable to take care of that poor little human being. I'm mentally unstable and don't have the capability to take care of a little human being whom I can easily be able to harm when I'm feeling low, just to achieve my pleasure. I couldn't run much more, my legs gave up on me, causing me to crash down on the floor of the entrance hallway of the institute. Not eating, and ignoring my health care can really go against me sometimes...

"Ma'am, please. Your husband will be worried." She whispered in a soft soothing voice, slowly helping me up and leading me back to where I escaped from. She sat me down on the chair, and handed me a cup of water to calm down. After a couple minutes of calming down, Bruce finally walked out that room with a small smile on his face. I know exactly what he wants. He wants a baby, but I can't give that to him. Not because I physically can't, but because I actually don't want to. "Are you ready, honey?" He smiles, bringing out his hand for me to hold and depend on. "S-Sure..." I muttered, then accepted it like I always did so stupidly.

The ride home was dull. Just the way it was when we were on our way here. And just like it was after I had accepted the fact that I'm not conceptually okay. "Bruce." I called out, glaring out the window in the rainy weather. Enjoying the sounds it muffled into our car. "Yes?" He focused on the road ahead of him. He wasn't the type of guy to hold a conversation while driving. That's because he always focuses on doing something one-by-one at their own specific time. "Are you going to send me to a mental hospital?" He immediately pulled over to the side of the road, earning angry honks from