His Sick Obsessions

Chapter Twenty Two: James

I am not a bad person.
I was a boy raised in a broken home. I am not broken, I am not bad.

I was raised and molded to take an order. To do my job. To bite my tongue. Then I became this.

The person who likes to break down others, the person that when they see shattered remnants in someone's eyes I will try to fix them.

Make them know it's okay.

Loyalty is my only quality, of course I would help someone given they helped me.

But every once in awhile everyone just needs a day. One day or a lifetime to relax. To slow down. Today, I let the earth speak, I let anger boil me. But now I am worn down and guide a girl- I kidnapped- to my room.

Not for blurred lines or lost secrets.

But for her to sit on one side of my bed while I sit on the other, no words, a pile of books in the middle. As I open one up to my spot she will look up at me. Questioning with glass eyes. But I will be lost in my book.

If I say a single word. One. Other than hateful venom, I will fail. It has become a game. She also speaks no words, a soft questioning hand reaches for a book.

My first instinct is to smack it away. I continue on in the book. She looks up at me, asking if it's okay with her eyes. When I do nothing, she does something. She too begins to lose herself in a book.

This is the day I choose, because tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow her problems won't be if the character can with stand a one hundred day trial. It will be filled with venom.

And I will be that venom.