Soon {Zarry}

Twenty-seven Suspects

"I'll tell you, only if you go sit back down."

"Fine."

"My so called obsession with you began when you opened up to me. Like really truly revealed what you were thinking about. It was just a glimpse then, I realize now, but I thought I was just two steps from figuring you out."

"What moment are you talking about?"

"When we first got here, and you caught me after having run into the forest. You were vulnerable and honest about how lost you felt. I felt like I was actually in the presence of something human, not some disassociated psychopath pretending to be."

". . ."

"Anyway, can we continue?"

"Yes."

"Why are you obsessed with me?"

"I thought I already explained myself. . . I find you as intriguing as you find me. You're face is an open book, yet you hide many things about yourself, whether on purpose or not. Your honesty and bluntness I liked initially, but I now find it leaves something to be desired. Although, I'm sure you are only so blunt and insulting towards me-"

"Your assumption is correct."

"Combined with your pretty face and delectable body, I find it rather hard to resist, so I simply don't."

"You simply don't - if that isn't the understatement of the century. . ."

"Now Harry, don't act so displeased when you know how loud you get when I can't take my hands off you."

". . . shut up. . ."

"Ha ha ha, darling, don't act embarrassed now either."

"This is supposed to be a session about you!"

"Ha ha, okay, heh, okay; you're right. I'm done."

"I remembered you said something like 'a natural progression' towards becoming a killer. Explain that to me. What was so natural about it?"

". . . I don't like when you go all doctor on me."

"Just answer the question. . . please?"

"Okay. . . you already know the the blood I used came from me at the start. When my mother found out, I tried animals for a bit. It just didn't give me that satisfaction; all I got were whimpers and wide eyes, and it was just too easy. I knew then what had to be done. I tried to believe that I could find somebody to give me blood, and I did. I posted online about it, on some really sketchy website. The people I'd meet sent my skin crawling, and I loved it. Yet the satisfication waned, and I found it tedious to pay a hundred dollars a month, sometimes it'd be weekly depending on the project, for a jar of blood. For efficiency's sake, and I suppose most importantly, for my desire, I began killing the people I paid for. I'm not entirely sure if it's natural at all, but to me, it was a chain of events that seemed inevitable."

". . ."

". . ."

"What's efficient about killing them?"

"Everything. I don't have to pay, my secret stays a secret, I rid the world of another useless creature, and I have gallons of blood at my disposal. The idea of reusing the same humans is naive. You can never get enough that way."

"How many have you really killed?"

"Dozens, darling. More than you would like to know. It's been over a decade since I've first killed; tell me, exactly how many do you think?"

". . . 35?"

". . ."

". . ."

"42."

"How is that even possible?"

"I used to be real bad, in the beginning. The first taste of blood lust was like a virgin cumming for the first time. I wanted more and more. I killed ten people within six months, all enlisted from that little website. We'd meet in abandoned warehouses and empty neighborhoods where they never left, buried six feet beneath the ground. No one missed those freaks. I finally slowed down when I realized I couldn't use all the blood in time."

". . ."

"You look frightened, like a little mouse cornered by a desperate lion. You shouldn't worry, little mouse; you helped me down from the hunter's trap."

"Who's to say the lion never went back on his promise once the story's over?"

". . ."

"I think I finally get it though. Why you kill; I've had my theories, but I'm sure I understand now. I have no more questions."

"What?"

". . ."

"Harry, tell me."

"You really can't control yourself. You were pretty good at hiding it, but there's a breaking point inside. Something malicious suppressed and festering, only a matter of time before it boils over. How long can you go, Zayn? Before you head back to the city, or will you simply explode on me?"

"I told you, I'd never-"

"Please stop lying to me and yourself!"

"I'm not lying. . ."

"Yes, you are."

"Quit pushing me. It won't work."

"I'll quit when you stop lying."

"Harry, darling, sweetheart, I'd rather die than bring harm to you. I don't care how uncontrollable my temper is, or how much the bloodlust takes over, there'd be no satisfaction in your blood. All of my decisions have been fueled by instinct and pleasure, but I'll be damned if I lose you because I haven't scratched an itch in a while. So quit it."

"Tch, I don't believe it. Something like that isn't possible; pyschopaths dont get to choose who they kill when they're blinded by rage, and I refuse to stay on my tip-toes around you."

". . . it both angers and saddens me that you'll never believe me."

"How can I? I have to be cynical, Zayn, otherwise I leave myself open to getting hurt."

"Then you shouldn't purposely provoke me either. I don't enjoy being tested for your research. "

"I wouldn't really call it research. . . just wrecklessness to prove a point to the both of us. Yet it seems never go the way I expect. You're trying to control yourself, I'll give you that much."

"I am controlling myself, every waking minute."

"You'll get tired someday, and I hate the fact that I'll be around when it happens. But I hate it more that I don't even care."