Brainwashed (Alabaster Penitentiary, #3)

by Nyla K.

to sleep forever. He was

Being Felix Darcey makes me itchy. I’d rather be The Carver.

People don’t respect psychiatrists as much as they should. We get a bad reputation as charlatans, which is lunacy, because I’ve met more quacks who work in medicine than those in the behavioral or clinical fields.

The guy dresses like he’s going to step into a helicopter as soon as he’s done speaking with you and be whisked away for a meeting with Jeff Bezos or Kris Jenner or some other wealthy evil genius.

He just looks like he hones strength into every inch of himself. Like he could pick me up and toss me around effortlessly. And now my mouth is watering.

Felix is a complex man. He is very aware, and it’s an interesting facet of his personality, because he also has obvious and severe insecurities. But it almost seems like he’s fine with them. Like he knows that he’s fucked up and he just sort of rolls with it.

He speaks of people like possessions… It’s very interesting. I wonder if he always needs to be the possessor or if he also desires to be possessed.

It reminded me so much of Cameron. And as we now know, anyone who reminds me of Cameron steals my breath as fast as my heart.

Of course I wanted to control them. “To keep someone is to control them.”

But what separates true psychological researchers from the therapists of the world is that we are willing to skip over that line from time to time. We must be willing to give ourselves over to the sincere nature of our research. To become one with our own demons and let them dance with those of our patients. Only then can we remove the veil. Only then can we begin to mold.

But I don’t need to be fixed. I don’t want to be. The world needs people like us. The evil to balance out the good. The monsters under their beds, the fear. Fear is important, after all. It reminds us that we’re alive. Humanity needs to condemn the wicked to feel like they’re in control and make themselves the hero. It’s fine. I’ve accepted my part in this. I’m the bad guy. I can’t be fixed, and neither can Kieran O’Malley.

One key for all these doors… Isn’t that foolhardy?

“Because you get me.” I shiver. “I want you to… get me.” Something flashes, but he covers it up. “Why is it so important that I get you?” My head shakes a little. I don’t want to straight up say because you remind me of my father. That’s way too real, especially while my dick is hard. But he knows the answer, anyway. He’s just toying with me right now.

This guy seems very hot and cold. Scratch that. He’s cold as ice, but apparently on rare occasion, he lets out an eruption of fire. The question is, how can I get more of it?

The interesting part was that I’m not sure I wanted them to want to stay. Like if I asked one of them to stay and he’d said, Sure, I’d love to! I don’t know what I would have done.

if you want him, you’ll need to play the game.

And with that thought, Felix Darcey snuck off to bed. And The Carver came out to play.

If we’re talking about a man whose influence would be good for him, relationship wise, I believe he needs someone to balance out his infinitely uneven personality. To give him the affection he so craves, but also put him in his place when he’s acting like a brat.

“Felix,” I growl, shutting him up quick. “No. Hear me. I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I’m not your Daddy, and I’m not your pal. I’m a doctor here to examine you. That’s it. Don’t confuse my dedication to my work with some kind of desire for you.”

“Because deep down, what you really want is to be used by the person whose attention you could never hold.” I chomp down on my lip to keep in the desperate groans while he steps up to the edge of the couch. My vision gets swimmy, every muscle in my body bunching up, coiled and seconds from release. He leans over me. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, Felix? To be bent over and split in half by someone just like your father…” My lashes flutter, my lips part, and my hand pumps faster and faster, stroking it out… “Fuck fuck fuck,” I gasp. “Show me how you come, you sick little monster,” he snarls. And I erupt.

He claims he’s not like Johansson and Templeton, but he’s exactly the same. Here simply to stick me in a glass jar and poke me like a test subject. Then stuff me back into my box. I’m not important to him. I’m just a case. A number. Another serial killer statistic.

I shouldn’t want to be ogled by a serial killer. I don’t. But it gives me this unfettered sense of power. A control over someone who can’t be controlled. Someone who steals the most precious thing in the world… The human life.

He chuckles again. Oh my God, be still my beating fucking heart.

Exceptional performance, Felix. A+++

“You’re so sick,” he seethes. But it doesn’t sound like there’s only hatred in his tone. There’s also lust and a confusing allure. “You like it.” I urge myself up, pushing my throat and my dick against his hands. He squeezes harder on both, and my eyes roll back in my head. “Are you going to come, sick boy?” he provokes,

“I’m the bad guy,” he says with as much confidence as I’ve ever heard from him. “I’m the monster that lurks in the shadows. The evil that sends a chill up your spine and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. I’m just me. The Carver is me.”

“It became sort of frustrating. I mean, part of me loved it. I was doing what I was meant to do. I finally had a purpose. But then I was still invisible. Even the FBI didn’t see me…” Johansson and Templeton share a look. Johansson glances at me. “Are you saying you… wanted to get caught?” he asks Felix. He chews on his lip for a moment. “I just wanted someone to fucking notice me. No one wants to go to prison, but I knew it was where I was supposed to be. I was a fucking terror. I still am…” He lets out a slow exhale. “I deserve to be here. I know that.”

Cowering in his straight-guy-who-just-experimented-with-a-man-for-the-first-time corner for days on end until he finally feels comfortable looking at me again. I roll my eyes to myself. This is why I don’t hook up with straight guys. Every interaction is followed by all this self-doubt and reflection. It stresses me out. I have enough going on myself, what with murdering my sexual partners and all. I don’t have time to worry about them questioning their identities.

Dr. Love is a presence I desperately want around, and for more than just the ultimate kill. I want to get inside him the way he has with me. To crawl into his deep down; cuddle up in there.

A hand suddenly wraps around my throat from behind and, in an instant, his large body is at my back. “You said he wasn’t your type,” he growls in my ear. My dick is hard in seconds flat. “I lied,” I whisper, resisting the urge to grind my ass against his crotch. I’m not sure what about this man turns me so needy, but I’m not trying to overthink it. I want things with Dr. Love that I’ve never tried before. Things I think I’ve always secretly wanted, but didn’t have the stomach to ask for. I was always too busy bending over backwards for the guys who were ultimately going to leave me. Either on their own or by my hand.

“Because I’m forcing you to confront your feelings? Because you know you secretly want to rip my clothes off as much as I want you to…?” His face goes bewildered for a second. “I don’t…” “Yes, you do,” I state firmly. “And the sooner you accept it, the sooner we can move past this fight-then-fuck bullshit and just fuck.”

“Have you ever begged for dick like this before?” he asks, amused.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking a serial killer…” I whine out loud and he shushes me. “Quiet, monster. Keep still and let me show you who’s boss.”

No more toys, or medical tools inside of him. He’s my patient. If anything is going to reach inside him in the name of goddamn research, it’s going to be me.

“You know what it looks like?” I ask, turning my face to his. “What’s that?” he breathes with my mouth hovering over his. “It looks like I own you, sick boy.” My lips brush his and he quivers. “You’re my monster.”

Best… sex… of… ever.

“Practice, baby.” My finger traces the seam of his lips. He sticks his tongue out to lick it. “Do I look like your baby, Felix?” He’s trying to put up a tough front, but I can see that he’s thrilled at me calling him that. “Yea.” I tug his chin. “Actually, you do.” “Why? Just because I’m sucking your dick?” His mouth quirks, and he licks up my shaft, pressing kisses on it. “Mmm… yea. I’m the first dick ever to enter your mouth. As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now, Doctor.”

I don’t want to end his life to stop him from leaving me, because if I do… I won’t get to find out if he’ll stay.

“My sexy little psycho wants to get dicked deep, hm?” he asks in a salacious brogue that sends a chill up my spine, and into my nuts.

“I could eat you for hours, baby. Days… I want to cum in your ass and eat it out, you sweet, sick little slut.”

“So you see, Felix… Yes, you’re a lunatic. You’re a psychopath and a vicious killer without remorse, and you fully deserve to be locked away. But there are people walking around free every day who have done the same things, or worse. You’re just a human being, we all are. Evil doesn’t exist. It’s only the reality of the world’s chaos. And we just keep spinning.”

But the thought of never seeing him again, my fascinating deadly creature, felt like suffocation… Like a rope tightening around my throat. Because for all the trouble it would be loving him, I couldn’t imagine continuing on without it. I can’t. As it turns out, I want the trouble. I might even love it…

As it turns out, I prefer the quiet and the dark. Living amongst the chaos.

These people were supposed to care for me, not him. But instead, they acted as if it never happened. And ever since that day, I’ve been chasing answers. Acceptance. Closure.

“You’re pathetic to me, Stephen. But the thing is, I don’t blame you for what you do. I’m only doing this because it’s what you deserve. This is pure vengeance, plain and simple.”

“There are only two things you can do with a rabid dog. Cage him or put him down.” I lean in for one final whisper. “You should have taken the cage.”

“You came back for me,” I whisper. He nods. “Of course I did. I don’t think I know how to live without you anymore, Felix Darcey.”

“I’m going to take everything I can from you, Little Prick. I will keep you breathing just so you can wish you weren’t. I’ll make you pray for death like I was before my man saved me. I promise you, Dr. Templeton,” I growl, coming alive with the words, “you’ll feel every single bit of my hatred for you. Touching me was the worst mistake of your life.”

“Felix Darcey.” He sighs my name like it’s his blessing, not a curse, his large hands rushing up my chest to cover my heart and the scars he made there. “If I’m your Want, then you’re my Need.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Want,” I growl. He slips his finger into the waistband of my pants and tugs me until my hips are pressing into his. “Behave, Need.”