Madman’s Cure: Madman Duet Book Two

by Mason, V. F.

  I’ve always imagined that at the moment of his misery, I’d experience deep satisfaction, knowing he suffers as much as me. He was a boy disguised as my friend, but he stayed clueless to my pleas for help, instead only adding to my nightmare.

  A person who might not have killed people in the night, seeking their souls, but still he became a monster with a paintbrush in his hand.

  Oddly enough though, I feel absolutely nothing besides the relief that one more name is crossed off my list and I don’t have to deal with it now.

  Revenge can be exhausting when you no longer understand the rules of the game you are playing.

  Besides, didn’t Eudard allude to them having something to do with Eachann?

  He has as much right to this as me; quite frankly, they could all burn in hell and I wouldn’t even spare a thought for them.

  My eyes meet Eudard’s for the last time before I spin around, hitting his face with my hair, and stroll upstairs, my bare feet slapping the wood—the only sound echoing in the otherwise silent space.

  Fighting and facing your problems is harder and more difficult.

  I have a feeling at the end of the day, my decision will either make us or break us, but try as I might, I can’t predict the outcome.

  The devil is here to take me to his mansion.

  To hide me away from this brewing tension.

  Too bad I’m already smeared in this blood.

  The invisible heavy chains dangling from my hands are all the proof I have to attest to that fact.

  Maestro

  Roaring, I throw the glass against the wall where it shatters. The whiskey stains the carpet as tiny pieces of glass scatter all over the floor. “Why didn’t he kill her?” I screech, my voice booming in the spacious room as my guards hunch their shoulders, not knowing how to react to my outburst.

  Or more, what it might bring them.

  The surveillance camera in Cassandra’s house shows her standing right next to Eudard while he says something to her, but I don’t fucking hear what. “Why is there no audio?” I ask quietly, half turning toward the guards who step back a little, still averting their gazes.

  Even though I might ask calmly and quietly, in truth my tone is laced with coldness and fury that knows no mercy for those who fail me.

  One of them clears his throat, sharing a look with the rest. “We couldn’t install the audio to her in time. We only have cameras. We will fix it today once she leaves the house.”

  “Oh, I see,” I reply nonchalantly, walking to the table, still watching Eudard being fucking gentle to the ice princess who won’t fucking die no matter what is thrown at her.

  I’m starting to think her living is a challenge thrown in my face, and she wants me come and off her.

  She really shouldn’t taunt me like that, because while it brings me pleasure to see red marks from Eunan’s belt on her neck, and joy spreads through me when I think how much Eudard’s alter hates her, the temptation becomes harder and harder to resist.

  If she doesn’t die soon, I might actually break and succumb to it; feasting on such tasty flesh, I’m sure I’d be in a killing coma after that.

  There has to be a reason the Campbell twins were ready to sacrifice everything for her.

  The headache starts to form in the back of my head, and I palm it, bending my neck from side to side, reining in the emotion.

  It will be far more maddening to Eudard to do it himself; only then will he turn completely insane and come to me.

  I pour myself another drink, aware of all the heavy breathing inside the room because the guards don’t know what to expect, and a sadistic smile pulls at my lips, my body humming with the familiar anticipation that fuels my blood like nothing else. My mouth dries at the prospect of experiencing nirvana soon.

  Nothing in this world compares to the fear of the victims. The longer you make them wait, the stronger the scent becomes, until it suffocates them and acts like an aphrodisiac to me.

  I can almost taste it on my tongue, and sometimes I do. Depending on who is on the receiving end of my cruelty.

  A win-win situation that always, always ends in their death. How could it not?

  After all, they are my endless toys to play with; it should be their privilege to be touched by me.

  A victim should cherish a vicious hunter who picked them for his own and wants to help them fulfill their destiny.

  Finishing my drink, I click my fingers, and the man who spoke earlier cries out in dismay when the men behind him grab his hands and forcefully push him on his knees. “Please, sir. It was an honest mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  My laughter rocks off the walls when I grab my sword from the table, dragging it with me while I walk to him, my heart speeding up at seeing the sweat coating his face and the pulse beating wildly on his neck.

  I almost want to see what it would look like to pierce it with the tip of my sword, allowing the man to bleed to death while watching his face with fascination.

  It’s one of my greatest enjoyments, seeing death claim them and fueling my mission in this world.

  But my mood is sour after watching the cameras, and this no longer brings me relief. Hard fucking while choking a woman to death should cure me of it.

  All in good time though.

  “Of course not,” I say, and hope flares on his face. “Because I don’t give second chances.” Motioning with my head to the guards, I silently order them to step back, and the minute they do, I swing my sword, cutting off his head.

  Smirking at the permanent shock etched on his features, I throw the sword over my shoulder, and whistling, I go into the hallway, ready for that oblivion.

  All while musing that I lied to the man earlier.

  Eudard Campbell is the exception to my rule, because even though he betrayed me, I’m willing to give him another chance.

  But only when he succumbs to the madness.

  And it will happen only when his queen is finally dead.

  Vincere semper.

  I always win.

  Even if I have to wait a decade for it.

  Chapter Ten

  “My darkness was born in one monster’s hell.

  Nurtured by the rusty walls of his basement’s cell.

  One day the devil himself to the rescue came.

  Forever freeing me from this monster’s claim.”

  Eudard

  Eudard, 17 years old

  Summer Before Senior Year of High School

  My bike roars loudly when I pull up to the massive gates of Uncle’s mansion, signaling for the guards to open up, and they do, allowing me to fly through them, leaving only dust in my wake.

  While I ride down the endless path leading to the main entrance, I think back on the last two years and how, for the first time in my life, luck has graced me with her presence.

  After Lachlan and his protégés pretty much soaked the ground with blood at Uncle’s mansion, he offered Liam and me two choices while his people watched us with bored looks. Especially Arson, the guy who kept on flipping a lighter while tapping on the gun powder spread around us.

  It’s like he couldn’t wait to light this fucking place on fire or something, but the dark-haired guy called Sociopath kept on sending him warning glances.

  Right there, I thought they were all insane, but I listened to Lachlan carefully, because he was my only way out of that awful situation.

  He told us to tell him everything we knew, give him our names and histories of how we ended up there.

  The other option was death, because he had, and I quote, “no time to deal with any bullshit.”

  Needless to say, words sprang out fast from my mouth. I might’ve had suicidal tendencies all through the years, but in that moment, I wanted to live. Dreamed about going back home, to my twin and Arianna. That maybe finally I could mend my relationships with them without an ax thrown at my head. Without fear dictating my every action.

  Liam just hid behind my back as always, silently standing b
y me, while I explained his history too.

  After we were done though, Lachlan ignored me, focusing his attention on Liam. He studied him silently for so long I wondered if I should interfere, but then he finally spoke. He asked Liam if he wanted to keep his father’s legacy, pointing at the house. I expected him to say no, because nothing but misery coated the walls of it, but to my shock, Liam nodded.

  Which resulted in Arson groaning, because apparently he was all ready to light it on fire and watch it burn, as if it was the only reason he even participated in the action in the first place.

  If I haven’t pointed it out before, I’m going to do so now.

  He is a complete psycho.

  Liam also said he wanted to stay with his family, which confused me, because grandpa dearest died of a fucking heart attack (Good riddance and may he burn in hell for eternity. Amen.). Turned out he had some aunt on his mother’s side living in Chicago, and he wanted to go back there.

  Lachlan’s lip curled at that, but he called Arson to take Liam there, although I still sensed some weird vibe from him. Liam gave me one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing inside a van, ready to start a new life.

  I didn’t get such privilege, because Lachlan hit me with his cane, and everything went black after that.

  Like he told me later, I displayed psychotic tendencies by cold-bloodedly killing my uncle, and he couldn’t let me loose without proper training.

  Only then I could indulge.

  So he trained me for the past two years, teaching me everything there is to learn about torture and weapons, and how one can manipulate the mind so well it can bring better pleasure than getting off.

  I soaked up all the information like a sponge, craving to know where to draw blood from those who most deserve it.

  In my opinion, at least.

  So no other child or person had to suffer so much they would need an alter ego to come to the rescue, blocking their agony out.

  They knew about Eunan, of course; he showed up a few times when their hits had been extremely violent. Based on the videos they showed me, he didn’t much appreciate being hurt by them and snarled at their methods.

  I like my alter, but I didn’t give a fuck about his opinion on the matter.

  But while my life as a rising serial killer thrived, life at home sucked.

  School sucked, because learning about basic stuff was such a fucking bore, but I stayed there, playing on the field and achieving things to get Dad off my back. We constantly got into fights, because I ignored his pleadings to stop drinking so much or spending time in New York. I never listened, of course, and at some point, he threatened to cut my allowance. He even went as far as telling me he'd send me to our family in France.

  So I played nice, since I couldn’t drop out of school. Arianna was still there.

  Because no matter what, she was my one single obsession, and time with Lachlan only intensified that. I craved to show her my darkness, to share all my secrets, and for her acceptance. But she always only sought my twin, her eyes lighting up whenever he passed her by, oblivious to her crush or so he claimed.

  I never believed him, which ensured hostility between the two of us. We barely spoke a word to one another and tolerated each other at best.

  I never understood his resentment though. What was he bitter about? It was my body that was used and abused for years, so he could have a nice life! But I even felt like shit for thinking those kinds of thoughts, so fuck my twin and his resentment toward me.

  Little bouncing Laura was the only bundle of joy that didn’t demand anything from me. She always greeted me with her soft smiles, wrapping her hands around my leg so hard and asking me to play with her.

  In moments like those, I wondered if Eachann’s heart ripped in two when she also did this to him, because she reminded me so fucking much of Mom I could barely stand it.

  Thinking about Mom brought nothing but pain, and I was fed up with it for an eternity.

  Breathing in the fresh scent around me, I center myself back in the present and mentally prepare myself for this encounter.

  Reaching the front door rapidly, I park near the stairs, hopping down on the ground, my boots thumping against the concrete as I swing my legs off the bike and remove the helmet. My eyes widen in disbelief when I see Kirk waltzing down the stairs toward me, still wearing his butler uniform.

  You have to be fucking kidding me.

  Without thinking, I drop the helmet on the ground and dart toward him. He opens his mouth probably to greet me, but I don’t give him a chance to speak a word.

  Instead, I wrap my hand around his throat, jerking him in my hold while he gasps, his hands on my arms, slapping me while I press my fingers harder and harder, enjoying how his face slowly turns red and blue from lack of oxygen as he struggles in my hold.

  But slowly choking him to death doesn’t erase the destruction he brought to me.

  Looking at him now, I don’t see an old man who is desperately trying to survive in my hold—oh no.

  I see his blank face that gazed with indifference whenever someone hurt us, how he grimaced at our scars and told us to wash quickly before the smell coated the air.

  How he slapped the belt against my back, screaming for me to wash my own clothes, because I vomited all over the floor after one of Uncle’s sessions.

  Or how he pulled Eachann’s ear, calling him nothing but trouble, even though he never ventured around the place unless it was to attend the fucking piano lessons.

  All these memories flash before me while I tighten my hold on him, and his eyes slowly start to roll back when a loud scream snaps me from the moment. “Eudard!” Liam is rushing down the stairs, his white shirt open and flying in different directions. “Let go of him.”

  Fucking what now?

  I jerk Kirk again, his teeth snapping even though his strength to survive must be waning now, and I address Liam. “No fucking way.” But he is on me at once, tearing my hand away from Kirk’s throat, and since I don’t expect it, I stumble back, which allows the old man to fall on his knees, coughing frantically while tears form in his eyes.

  Even my handprint on his neck is not enough for this bastard.

  I want to grab him again, but Liam stands in front of me, pushing at my chest with pleading in his voice. “Please, don’t.”

  “Why is he here?” I bellow, and only then the environment around me registers.

  The mansion looks exactly the same as it once did, down to the fucking rose bushes in the distance that reminded Uncle of my mother.

  Too bad he is dead, because I want to kill him all over again, only this time around, I would have used all the knowledge I’ve acquired from Lachlan.

  The death would have been slow, agonizing, and never-ending.

  “Eudard, please come inside and listen to me.” He sends a warning to Kirk, who tries to get up but sits back on his ass under Liam’s gaze. “He won’t come. Please.” Familiar tears form in his eyes and brings on flashbacks of us both chained to the bed while the awful men continued to ruin us.

  In other circumstances, I would have told him to fuck off, killed Kirk, and went on my merry way, but something about him raises the hackles on my neck, alerting me to the creeping danger.

  And even though Liam called out of the blue a month ago and begged me to come visit him, looking at him now, I sense an energy around him that wasn’t present before.

  Power.

  Did he taste power and like it?

  I only said yes to this visit because Lachlan urged me to check on him but never elaborated why. The man has so many secrets and will never share them unless he wants to, so pestering him about them is useless.

  I rein in my emotions and grit through my teeth, “Fine.” Liam’s face breaks into a huge grin and he hooks his arm with mine, dragging me up the stairs. “We have so much catching up to do.” There is such excitement in his voice, like he has found the secret to endless happiness that will know no boundaries.


  In life filled with misery and nightmares, I had something keeping me sane.

  My poems, a passion no one knew about.

  I found solace between the rustling pages in my journals where I could write my every dark thought or memory, the ink filling the blank pages with my agony.

  The words held all my pain, all my thoughts and true desires that no one would ever know, because no one would ever read it.

  Some pages were torn, some smeared in my blood, and some had droplets of dried tears from the devastation that always rocked me.

  But all my poems belonged to me, showcasing my life in verses that haunt me every single time. And in such, I guarded my journals fiercely, not wanting anyone to see them, because I wasn’t sure anyone could withstand the truth written in them.

  On one rainy summer day, I wrote a poem about this moment in time with Liam, while blood dripped on every single line, coating the poem in a mark that forever shattered my life.

  Some monsters are born in the darkness.

  Some monsters are born in the greed.

  All monsters become heartless.

  All monsters bleed.

  Not all monsters succumb to dark deeds regardless.

  Not all monsters succeed.

  True monsters are never harmless.

  True monsters know how to mislead.

  Eudard

  “I like this one,” he announces, grinning widely, although on him it looks more like a dangerous scowl. I’m not sure he is aware that an actual grin requires his facial muscles to move. “She’s feisty.” He rubs his chin, winking at me. “Do you share?”

  Possessiveness washes over me, traveling through my body and awakening every dark thought inside me, ready to strike the enemy who dared to even consider touching what belongs to me. “Ask me that again, and I’ll snap your neck.” He can go fuck himself with this proposition.