The Bone Thief

Chapter Five

i wrote this chapter while in school. my classmates were all actually doing their work and what was i doing? writing a book about 2 psychopaths

I am twenty-three years old

anyway here's chapter five thanks for reading

Chapter Five

Current Day

The media has a sick obsession with me. As the only man close enough to the Bone Cutter as one could get without being romantically involved with him, the public is desperate to interview me. As if I'd share all of Prosper's dirty little secrets.

I would, if I wasn't certain he'd share mine.

The interviewer got nothing. We ended up talking about the next killing, and how we suspect Prosper will choose to kill then. It's boring, worthless talk. Meaningless words to appeal to the public. So long as I'm talking of Prosper, the people would be satisfied, like starving dogs you throw a bone.

Why are the people so obsessed? Prosper is nothing but a man with an open desire to control everything, including me. Are the people so blind that they really can not tell? Or do they simply ignore it? What would it be like to have such a blind love for a man you've never fucking met?

He knows I hate doing interviews, and I've suspected he only schedules them for me when I've done something to piss him off. I've stopped caring what it is that I do that angers him so, and instead I search for more reasons to get him upset. Let him be angered, it satisfies me.

When the interview was over, I shake the man's hand, and leave. As soon as I'm alone, I pull off the stupid jacket Prosper demanded I wear, and choose something less coated in silver.

He mocks me with the silver. Like he never wants me to forget that night.

Someone knocks on the dressing room door, and a woman's voice speaks up, "Mr. Kalon, there's a call for you on line one."

It's him. I look over and the telephone sitting on the table, next to several bottles of wine. I already know it's Prosper on the call, and I pick the phone up and slam it back down, hanging it up.

Pulling on a coat of my own choosing, I left.

There are body guards following me as I move down the street. Prosper has them stalk me no matter where I go. He says he can't risk anyone hurting me, but I think it's more so he will know exactly where I am at all times.

California is fucking hot, and as much as I'd love to not be wearing a coat right now, The shirt I wore underneath was a bejeweled navy blue punchline to a pathetic joke. The eyepatch was a big enough giveaway. Let them think I was just another homeless man, this city is full of them.

The day is bright, it is extremely warm so I do the only thing I can before Prosper drags me back. Luckily, the building my interview was held in was only a few miles away from the beach.

I take my shoes off. and the coat I was wearing. I found a small spot with no people, surrounded by a few rocks, and mounts of sand. I lean back against one of the rocks, watching the waves go up and down on the shore.

I try to relax, I even try to light a cigarette, as if that would help me feel a bit of peace.

It doesn't.

I think about what I'm doing here, why, of all things, I let Prosper control me like a puppet. Does it matter if my family is publicly humiliated? What have they ever done for me?

My mother hasn't spoken to me since the day I turned eighteen and moved out.

My sister, Adria got pregnant in highschool. Of course my mother wanted nothing to do with her after that either.