WIP: Night Stalkers

An unedited excerpt from a work-in-progress, tentatively titled.


Stale whiskey and old cigarettes. That’s what his mouth tasted like. Usually the flavor disgusted me. I guess I was too far gone to care. Maybe that’s why I engaged in something called the Eiffel Tower with the twins. It was another night in Hell for me.

I stare out the office window. It is a typical morning. I hate these sessions, but I have no choice in the matter.

“You realize that never happened? It’s a manifestation of your illness,” Dr. Sygmund says.

“Yeah, right. I guess I beat the crap out of myself, too.” I finger the red and purple bruise forming on my arm. It is in the shape of his fingers.

We go through this same BS once a week. I talk about what happens. She tells me I’m dreaming. Don’t you have to be asleep to dream?

“Does it make you feel better believing that?”

Her pen is poised over a pad.

I’ve been a resident of the Laing Clinic for the Criminally Insane for a year. My parents say it is for my own good. The law didn’t give me a choice.

“This is not about me feeling better. Wouldn’t you like to leave this place one day?”

It will never happen on their terms. Even if I manage to physically leave, my mind and soul are forever trapped.

“I leave nightly. Isn’t that enough?”

“If you insist…” Dr. Sygmund shakes her head, her golden blonde curls bouncing around her gaunt face. “Never mind. What else happened last night?”

I laugh aloud. Should I tell her how the twins screwed me all night long? Or should I tell her why the nurse found me tied to the bed butt naked?

“Since I’m imagining everything, maybe you can explain the rope burns on my wrists?”

“Restraints. Those are marks from the restraints we were forced to use. You were uncontrollable for most of the night.”

That happens when you’re having a three way. “Did you check surveillance? I know you like to watch.”

She squirms.

“What did you see?”

“You aren’t supposed to have residents in your room,” she admonishes.

The corners of my mouth quirk up as I lean forward on the chair. “Those weren’t residents.”

“We are investigating last night’s incident. Which residents were with you?”

I shake my head. The woman never listens. “Once again, they were not residents.”

Dr. Sygmund scribbles on her pad. “It should be easy to figure it out. We just need to see who the twins are here.”

“Did you know you can tell the difference between them by how they fuck? They’re both hung like bulls, but Dante likes to take his time. Dorian is a serious beast.”

“I do have to report—.”

“What? How will that go? Two smoking hot demons came into my room, got me blitzed out of my mind, and had their way with me for hours? Be sure to add that Dorian likes it rough. He tied me to the bed, face down, and pummeled the hell out of my ass.”

She flushes. I guess that gets a rise out of her.

Like I said, this is our routine. Dr. Sygmund hates to hear about the twins. She’s tries her best to ignore my evening antics with them, but they are real. Dorian and Dante and me. We’ve been a team for quite a long time.

The twins are the reason why I landed here. Of course, we can’t forget the night they found me with the knife in my hand.


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