THE DEMANDING DELUSION
(Brayen's POV)
Tonight, my mind was consumed only by the memory of Vallen. I had lost count of the number of sips, the number of bottles I had opened.
I kept drinking relentlessly. The whiskey bottle was cold, but the liquid inside burned. The night had reached its darkest point.
My head pulsed sharply, the rush of blood in my ears felt louder than the faint ticking of the wall clock. I lost count, and I didn't care.
My head throbbed sharply, my body swayed, as if my spirit had abandoned its shell. I returned to the suite with staggering steps. As I opened the door, my blurred eyes spotted Chiella asleep on the velvet sofa near the window.
When the door opened, the night light in the corner of the room only cast shadows. My blurred eyes immediately fixed on that velvet sofa.
The night deepened. I collapsed onto the bed, but my body refused peace. Just as my eyes were about to close, I saw Chiella wake up. She looked uncomfortable, struggling with the confines of the wedding gown.
As she sat up, her fragile silhouette was caught by my fractured gaze. In that instant, I saw Vallen's reflection in Chiella.
The delusion slapped my consciousness.
I sprang up. Stumbling toward her. Desperation, not sanity, drove my feet. I cupped her face, a touch filled with misplaced longing. Unconsciously, hot tears streamed down my cheeks.
"Vallen…" I whispered faintly.
She was silent, staring at me without expression, but I didn't care. I only saw the eyes I missed.
"I missed you so much, Vallen. Why did you leave me?"
I hugged her tightly, hysterically. My embrace was a prison of despair.
"Wake up, Brayen! I am not Vallen! I am Chiella!" The voice was real and sharp, slamming against my delusion, shattering my chaotic mind.
I gasped. Furious that the illusion was broken. I pushed Chiella hard out of my embrace. She stumbled, nearly falling back onto the sofa.
But before I could pull away, Vallen's shadow reappeared, overlaying Chiella's now-frightened face.
I was a monster created by grief, and that monster refused to stop.
I pulled her body to me forcefully. I kissed her lips—not to caress, but to demand. I pinned Chiella against the wall behind the sofa, drowning her in the stench of whiskey and desperation.
"I missed you so much, Vallen," I groaned between kisses, my mind completely immersed in the lie I constructed myself. I kissed her with long-buried passion, a brutal desire, as if the kiss were strong enough, I could rewind time three years.
Slap!!!
My left cheek burned, nearly searing. The sound of the slap was so loud, it shattered the suffocating silence of the room.
I staggered backward. That brief moment the pain on my skin successfully severed my alcoholic delusion. My blurred eyes instantly became sharp.
Standing before me was not Vallen. It was Chiella.
I saw the girl's face her eyes glistening, filled with tears ready to stream down, pleading. Guilt, as small as a needle point, pricked my conscience. I should have felt pity. I should have stopped.
But the alcohol in my blood, the inflamed trauma, or whatever devil possessed me, rejected mercy. There was no pity. The slap, instead, ignited my anger and wounded pride.
My right hand moved reflexively, grabbing Chiella's neck roughly. I squeezed it, forcing her small body back against the wall.
"You dare," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous.
The tears began to pour down Chiella's cheeks. Her thin lips, the hand that had just slapped me, now stirred a different kind of passion. That expression of despair and helplessness it was captivating, truly enticing to the dark desires I had long suppressed.
"Let go of me, Brayen! Please let go of me!" Chiella's voice was choked by the grip on her neck. She struggled, her fingernails trying to pry my hold loose.
The rebellion only further fueled my dominant side. I choked her harder, giving her no chance to breathe, then kissed her again savagely. The kiss was rough, demanding. I did not let go for a moment.
I kissed her out of lust.
I choked her out of rage.
And I did it because I couldn't get Vallen back. Chiella had to bear this emptiness.
Chiella writhed, tears soaking her pale cheeks, but the rebellion only further satisfied the brutal side I had just unleashed.
I ripped her white wedding gown. The expensive fabric tore with a loud shriek, splitting like paper. I did not hesitate to hurt; my hands were rough, gripping her arms and waist, leaving marks on her now-exposed skin.
I pinned her small body onto that velvet sofa. I stripped off the remaining clothes clinging to my body the clothes that had become a symbol of my pretense and depression.
I rejected her. I humiliated her. But now, I demanded her.
My hands crawled, exploring every inch of her cold skin, her body trembling with fear.
"You have to accept this, Chiella," I whispered into her ear, my alcohol-laced breath hot. "I warned you to run away. You ignored my warning; you brazenly entered my bedroom."
Those words were a justification, a weapon I pointed at myself through her suffering. Chiella's whimpers choked off, the torrent of tears streaming down her cheeks. She pleaded in a desperate voice.
However, instead of feeling compassion, I savored every drop of those tears. Her pain and helplessness were a reflection of the destruction I had felt since the moment I met her. The expression of horror in her eyes was the only thing that felt real in this drunken delusion.
Under the cold moonlight, I committed an act that should have been based on love, not hatred.
This was not lust. This was punishment. Punishment for Chiella for daring to replace Vallen in this house, and punishment for myself for having fallen so low. I took her took her with a passion that destroyed.
Under the grip of obsession and alcohol, I no longer saw Chiella. I saw an object to channel my pain and anger.
I stripped her naked, tossing the remaining gown with movements full of fury. Every piece of fabric discarded was a symbol of honor I threw away. I looked at her bare body, not with the passion of romance, but with a destructive desire, the demanding lust of a man who was claiming what had been lost to him.
She turned her face away, her tears soaking the sofa pillow. Her small hands attempted to cover herself, a futile defense that only fueled my dark dominance.
I thrust myself in. Ripping her purity by force, without pause, without mercy.
This was a degradation, an act born of hatred and a tangled web of lies. I no longer cared about her pain; I only cared about the explosion of agony within myself.
The small body had to endure the destructive storm of passion. I took her brutally, carving pain where love should have been carved. Chiella's breath hitched, choked by suppressed sobs, but I refused to hear that sound. I only heard Vallen's screams from the past.
I pushed her, forcing her to accept every regret, every failure, and every wound I carried from Vallen's grave.
I was a monster created by grief, and that night, I made sure Chiella knew that the monster now dwelled beside her.
And when it was all over, only cold silence remained in the room. A silence more deadly than screams. I collapsed beside her, not from exhaustion, but from overwhelming self-disgust.