Riptide's Effects

Part Seven in The Madness Series

By: poyznelf



I was stepping up the frequency of my "attacks."

I sat glued to the monitor. Watching my specimens. Watching them writhe under the tiny jabs of my pins in the dolls.

Oh, they weren't spasms you could see from the outside, but still, the convulsions to their partnership were taking place.

Slammed doors.

Short gestures.

I was waiting.

I knew the word would be said.

One of them, probably the alpha, would say it.

No four letter word here.


Five letters.

T - R - U - S - T !!!

It will all come down to that word. One will say it to the other, and the dominoes they have stacked so precariously will start to topple.

My meticulous manicure is starting to suffer.


I miss a meeting with Jim at a crime scene.

He loses his keys.

The missing batteries for the remote are cause for a GBM.

The documentary I set up to record becomes this pecs and ass beach show called One West Waikiki.

He fails to show up to take me to the shrink, even though he set up the appointment.

Flat tires.

Missing bills, checks, or magazines expected in the mail.

We are both on edge.

He has stopped LISTENING to me. In any way.

I don't think it is intentional. In fact, I think it is caused purely by the tension between us. Caused by this outside force.

I have to get him away, get us back to one.