Chapter 4
TIFFANY
Iam officially in hell. It appears that still waters run deep, and inside the beast is more of a rapid than still water. I saw the madness in his eyes as he glared into mine. A crazy blend of psychosis that he failed to hide.
His words revealed more. Control. It kind of suits him, I guess.
OCD probably has his name written in the tagline because it’s obvious he likes perfection.
There is nothing out of place in his world.
Not a stray hair, a stain on his clothing, and even his manners are checked.
Cold, calculating and unreadable. The perfect monster, I’m guessing, and I should be very afraid right now.
Why are the pretty ones mentally fucked? Trust my luck, because outside of his personality, his looks would win awards. I have never met or even seen such a fine specimen of mankind, which is even more confusing to me.
I’m warmer now, and it’s not because of his coat.
The heat has intensified in the small space, and I doubt it’s due to the increased temperature.
When he touched me, sparks flew. The way he glared into my eyes shocked me for all the wrong reasons.
It turned me on, which reveals the convent is the place for me.
For some time, years in fact, I have struggled with sinful thoughts.
They crept up on me before I even realized they were there.
The dreams haunt me every night, and during the day I live with the shame.
The curiosity the nightmares bring reminds me I shouldn’t be left alone.
I need my sisters to keep me on the right path, and without them, I am flailing in a storm of my own creation.
I have never felt so alone and bite my lip to distract my mind from mental torture, replacing it with the physical kind instead.
To block out my situation, I close my eyes; the gentle movement of the car acting as a sleep inducer, and as I drift off to blissful oblivion, my mind returns to the place where the demons moan.
Tiffany. I jump and the doll falls from my hands as my breathing intensifies.
“There you are! What have you got there?”
Morgan’s cruel sneer causes my heart to race, and I stare down at the doll with trepidation.
“You freak.”
Morgan stops in front of me and stares with derision at the doll lying broken on the ground. The hair cut aside and spilling onto the marble floor.
Morgan swoops down and lifts the mangled object, and her cruel sneer causes my heart to beat a little faster.
My heart drops at the spark in her eye as she grips my wrist and pulls me along the corridor toward her bathroom.
I swallow the lump heavy in my throat as she thrusts me inside and hisses, “So you ruined the pretty doll I gave you. Actions have consequences, my darling, so let’s see how you like it.”
I am frozen with fear as she grips my hair in one hand and in the other, she proceeds to hack it off with the scissors.
I daren’t struggle because this isn’t the first time she has proven her strength against me, and as my long hair falls on the tiles, Morgan sneers, “My little bad doll. What a shame I must punish you again. Such a bad girl who, it appears, will never learn.”
I stare in horror at my reflection in the mirror as my once long locks are jagged and mere wisps on my head. She has cut it short, like a boy, with no regard, and as she places her hands on my shoulders to admire her handiwork, her cruel sneer catches on my terror.
“Your father will be angry. When will you ever learn?”
I am frozen inside. My tears dried up years ago, and as Morgan pulls me from the room, me in one hand, the doll in the other, she drags me to my father’s den.
As we stumble through the door, his shocked expression is loaded with anger as she screeches, “Look at this child, Enrico. Look at what she did.”
She tosses the doll onto his desk, which stares up at him like a freak, much the same as me, and his fist comes down hard on the wooden veneer as he roars, “You stupid girl.”
I shiver inside as he pounces, moving quickly for a large man, and as he grips my wrist, he slaps me hard around the face, the pain blinding me as my head falls to the side.
“Take her away. I can’t bear to look at her. She’s just like her mother, deranged.”
Morgan’s grip bites into my skin as she pulls me from the room, and as soon as we reach mine, she pushes me inside so ferociously, I slide onto the floor and crash against the edge of the bed.
“You’re a freak, Tiffany. A psychotic bitch who needs to be taught a lesson.”
Her eyes blaze into mine, and then she advances slowly, that one act filling me with more fear than anything that preceded it. As she towers above me, she whispers, “You are like me, Tiffany. You have so much potential. Perhaps I can help you.”
I press against the bed as she drops down beside me and reaching out, grasps my chin in her fingers, her nails digging into the flesh.
“I can help you contain the madness and use it more effectively. We will make a good team, my darling. Leave it with me; I can help you.”
The sudden change of demeanor confuses me: the soft smile replacing a harder one, her fingers once cruel now soothing as she wipes away my tears.
“I can help you, Tiffany; don’t shut me out. Your mother abandoned you; I will not.”
She whispers, “Trust me, darling. I can help. You remind me of myself. I know what is going through your mind; I always will. We will make a formidable team, my darling. You are not on your own anymore.”
I’m speechless as she leans forward and presses a soft kiss on my lips, before pulling back, her eyes ablaze with excitement.
Then she leaves without another word, and as I curl up into a ball on the floor of my room, the demons circle as they prepare to pick apart what is left of my soul.