infatuated.

*Brandon should be cherished.*

*I will not steal from him.*

*My mother needs to be stopped.*

*How good would it feel to just shove her down the stairs?*

*Maybe I could put a drug in her coffee, frame it as an overdose.*

*Oh, or possibly just go the painful route and torture her the way she just tortured me--*

I notice my fist tightening once again, and I release my fingers. Blood. Four drops where the tiny crest-shaped marks are printed.

I wipe it on my carpet and lie on the floor. I need to remain calm. I need to remain sane. Brandon is the top priority, and I can't compromise that with my... strange thoughts.

I walk to the bathroom and undress to take a hot shower for as long as the water remains hot. As I wash away the dirt from the day, I wash away the darkness of my mind.

Or so I hope.