INSANITY LOVE

CHAPTER 1

Characters:

Max Genovese, at 28, commands the shadows. As the ruthless leader of the underworld mafia, he’s the kind of man whose name strikes fear in the hearts of those who know it.

Ashley Williams, 23, is a mind wrapped in code. She’s not just a software developer—she’s a prodigy, a hacker with a quiet intensity that hides her sharp edge.

Jack Williams, 25, is an unassuming bank employee by day, but beneath the routine of spreadsheets and customer accounts, he’s a man with secrets.

I slowly try to open my eyes, but I can't. I feel the cloth covering them, and I sense my muscles tensing. Blood rushes to my head, struggling to keep me sane. My lips are dry, my stomach aches for food, and I can't remember how I ended up here. My mind feels foggy, slipping into illusions. I can’t keep up. A foul smell, like rotting rats, fills the air, mixed with the sourness of my own sweat. Out of all these things, one question hooks my mind: Where am I?

My blood is rushing to my eyes, and my muscles are sore with pain. Anxiety and dizziness cloud my thoughts. These feelings aren’t letting me think straight. How did I end up here? What did I ever do to deserve this? My mouth is drying up, and my survival instinct seems to be fading. All I want now is good food and sleep. As I wait, I hear people screaming, pleading for mercy. What could be the reason for torturing them? My ears can’t adapt to the screams; it’s horrifying enough to make me want to pee myself, even though I’m dehydrated. All I can do is wait, hoping someone will show mercy. But my body isn’t cooperating—I can’t plead or try to escape. So, I sit there, stupidly thinking that someone might actually help, even though I know deep down that no one will.

Then, suddenly, I felt someone yank off my blindfold. It was so painful to look at them directly. My pupils adjusted to the dim light, but everything was dark except for a narrow bulb hanging overhead, and there was no ventilation. I instantly puked from the overpowering smell of fresh blood. The first thing I noticed after opening my eyes was that my vomit was blue. It was blurry, but I could make out a large, dark figure dragging a man into the room, making me stare at him.

I recognized those blue eyes instantly, then my eyes now filling with water. He was my brother. For a second, I thought I was dreaming, but I quickly realized I was far from it. I shouted his name, "JACK!" but he didn’t wake up. The big man dragged him in front of me, and for a moment, I wished it wasn’t my brother, but when do wishes ever come true?

Noah was covered in blood, cuts, and bruises all over his body. I couldn’t bear to look at him like that. I couldn’t even cry, my energy had been completely drained. Not only that, but I felt useless, unable to help my brother in this situation. Guilt overwhelmed me as I saw him unconscious, helpless.

After all this, one thing kept coming back to my mind: praying that this shouldn’t be happening because of that person—the one responsible for my depression, driving me to walk alongside his dark aura. I could face anything, anything at all, but not him. His stare, his charming looks, were nowhere near to hiding the pure evil beneath. I want to save my brother. I’m already hallucinating that I’m dead from the lack of fluids in my body. For now, all I can wish is that it isn’t him, and it shouldn’t be him.

These ropes are cutting into my wrists harshly, bruising my body. I can see, but I can’t do anything because I’m tied up, and my throat is sore from shouting for help, stupidly thinking someone would come. I can’t bear to look at my brother in this situation—he is the only family I have. Losing him is driving my mind crazy. I looked around, hoping to find something that could help me escape, but all I could see was darkness. I couldn’t even move an inch because of the ropes. Just as I felt myself becoming unconscious, then I heard a voice.

It is the voice I wish I would never hear. It always gives me bad vibes, like someone hypnotizing me to drink poison. His voice is so low that even from afar, it sends chills down my spine. Then, suddenly, it hit me: I couldn’t escape from him, could I?

I'm sorry, am I disturbing your beauty sleep?" I can sense the sarcasm in his voice, which is never a good sound. I couldn't find the words to say; all I could babble about was helping my brother, because nothing matters more than him. This is his play, an awful play where he tries to get what he wants. Once he lays his eyes on something, it doesn’t matter what it is—whether it's a human or an object, he snatches it with a desire for pain. He likes to chase. He likes to play with emotions. That’s why he’s called ruthless.

Please, Max, I beg you, leave my brother. He's innocent. I'll do anything you ask—please don't drag him into this." I continued pleading, hoping that at least he would show some mercy, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, "You should have known this was coming when you tried to escape from me.