Inanimate Insanity Scratch Romane & Geschichten

“Didn’t heal them. Left them ugly and believable.” Scarlet stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. “You’re fucking insane.” He smirked. “Runs in the family.”

Why wouldn’t it budge? The sensation inside her was getting worse—like a ghost hand stroking her with every movement. The lightest brush over her thighs. A taunting flick between her legs. It was like a feather constantly teasing her skin, chasing her sanity. “I swear to God…” she muttered, throwing the scissors aside. She searched the room like a madwoman—opening drawers, yanking open closets, scanning for anything that could help her. A knife. A letter opener. A damn shard of glass.

Scratching and probably drawing blood. There's my wildcat. ******************************************

All I see, all the audience sees, are words scratched with red ink—words that cover the original painting. Sick. Mental. Delusional. Psycho.

Before they could enter, they heard an ear piercing scream from behind them. "Make it stop! Make it stop!!!! It hurts what is this! My skin is itching so bad!" They saw a man scratching his skin harshly until it began to redden and then slowly showing blood on it. Some of the females that was with them was horrified by the scene. They tried to stop that person who kept on scratching his skin. But they failed to do so, it destroyed his skin and even his face looking like a perfect monster. They thought that this man has gone crazy because who would scratch their skin that bad? Are they nuts?

Trigger Warning: Anxiety and mentions of suicide attempt. My world feels as if it has fallen silent as my hands reach towards my lower back to scratch the persistent and annoying itch that doesn’t seem to go away; it only switches its location. The longer the silence, the more intense the sensation, to the point that my skin feels as if it is burning. “Elizabeth?” Christopher calls as he turns on the lights in the room. My gaze instantly falls to the floor; I don’t want to see the look in his eyes. All I want is to pry my skin apart; pain is better than this insatiable desire to scratch.

I managed to sound commanding without yelling before I continued sending pleasure into her clit with each twirl and shove of my tongue. Meanwhile, Scratch mocked me inside my head. "Don't you see how this is nothing more than toxic? You can't fight the mate bond, dude. Every time you fuck this Barbie girl here, there'll always be someone else ruling over your mind. And it sure as hell ain't me." I growled physically, mostly at Scratch but also at the fact that I hated how right it was. I was losing my sanity at this point. As I growled, I placed my other palm on Lucille's ass, squeezing it as I kept thrusting my tongue into her entrance. But with each thrust, with each stifled moan from her,

“Agnes, a piece of advice. Never trust that man. He was raised by a monster.” Ba-dump. Agnes noticed the erratic beat of her heart when she heard him talk obscure words. She ignored it. “What are you talking about?” “What I am trying to say is…” Robert stood up and gently slapped her cheeks again and again. “Whatever thing you are looking at right now, it’s fake.” —

I screamed. He was taken aback upon seeing me with no control. Mad. F*cking mad. Out of my sanity. I stepped forward as he stepped back. “You... you f*cking, Silva. You f*cking call me a f*cking bitch! I am no slut, nor a wh*re! I am just a bad f*cking bitch who beats men *sses and not f*cking and sucking and riding their f*cking d*cks!” I shout and threw the glass of wine towards him. The glass shattered as his blood drops. The broken glass cut his arms.

My whole body itched. I suddenly saw a reflection of me on the other side of the room staring at the corner of the wall, another of me looking at the door, another laid out in the middle, another resting on the bed. Whose the real me? I finally found myself pacing the small boxed in room. How long have I been in here!? "Let me out!" I begged and kicked at the door. I'm going insane in here! I paced the room with dread of being in here. Something like this place will make anyone go mad. A sane person mad and a mad person sane. I started in a circle then, hearing my mirrored images counting to try to stay sane. All I've got to do is count to stay sane.