Page 26 of The Psychopaths

The alcohol hits my empty stomach, spreading warmth through my veins.

Why did I do it?I shouldn’t have touched her. Should have maintained distance like Aries does. Fuck, I’m not as strong as my brother in this category. The temptation was too strong—to take something else that belongs to him, to feel what he denies himself. It’s as clear as day that he’s denying them both. The wayshe melted into my touch told me everything I needed to know about their dynamic. He keeps her at arm’s length.

Why? What is he afraid of?

My hand moves to the waistband of my sweatpants, slipping beneath.I shouldn’t.It’s a weakness, a distraction. Masturbation is normal. Sex is an outlet, but it becomes something else entirely when you start thinking of someone else while you do it. I remind myself of these things, but it doesn’t work. I’m desperate, fucking needy, and my balls feel like they might explode.

Images of Lilian flood my mind, her eyes watching me, her body pressed against mine, what she might look like without that expensive dress on. I reach for the ball band on my nightstand. It’s a tight rubber ring with metal spikes on the inside. It helps me whenever I need to get off. A mixture of pain and pleasure, sometimes the only way I can get off after years of the institution’s chemical castration drugs.

I slide it on, gritting my teeth at the bite of metal against my sensitive flesh. The pain centers me and reminds me of who I am. Not Aries with his easy privilege and clean conscience. I’m the one they tried to erase, the one who survived their attempts to reprogram me.

My strokes quicken, becoming punishing rather than pleasurable.

In my mind, Lilian watches with those perceptive eyes, seeing the monster they created.Fuck, yes. Look at me. Watch the monster as he falls apart.Would she be scared if she saw me right now? Something in her calls to me, challenges me. If she were here right now, I think she would move closer. I think she would be curious, maybe even want to experience it.

“Who are you?” she asks in my fantasy, her hand replacing mine.

“The brother they tried to bury,” I growl, and then explode, coming with a shuddering gasp, pain and release intertwined as always.

For a moment, the clarity of release is all I can feel, then reality comes crashing back into me. This fixation is dangerous. She’s dangerous.

To the plan. To my focus. To whatever’s left of my sanity.

With a tissue, I clean myself up.How could I be so weak?Ten years of plotting revenge gone to waste.How pathetic am I?Jerking off like a teenager over the first woman who sees me? The ball band has left angry red marks, tiny punctures where the spikes dug in.Good.The pain clears my head, burns away the fog of desire clouding my judgment.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror shows a face identical to Aries’s, except for the hardness in my eyes. The doctors called itflat affect—a common symptom in psychopaths. That’s their label for me.Patient 4721.Antisocial personality disorder with psychopathic tendencies. Dangerous. Untreatable. Better locked away forever.

They never understood that it wasn’t a disorder.It was armor.The only way to survive the cruelest of the cruel is to become one of them. They made me this way.

“Focus,” I tell my reflection.

This isn’t about Lilian.Yes, her appearance in all of this is unexpected, but getting rid of her is easy enough.

Feeling a little calmer, I return to my planning table, this time with clinical detachment.Lilian Hayes. Age twenty. Congenital heart defect—ventricular septal anomaly with pulmonary valve stenosis, according to the medical files I hacked. Not immediately life-threatening if properly managed, which explains how she’s survived this long. Like always, there’s more to it.

The family uses her condition for sympathy and social currency. That’s the Hayes way—exploit everything and everyone. Even their fragile daughter.

I study the surveillance photos with new eyes. Her posture at events—always slightly stooped, playing up the weakness.Weird.I’ve seen her move when she thinks no one’s watching. There’s strength there. Endurance. While Lilian’s heart disorder might have been a problem at one point and time, it’s definitely not as bad as they make it out to be.

Turns out Lilian and I are not so different. Both pawns in the Hayes family’s games. Both pretending to be something we’re not. Even this newfound information doesn’t change that she’s a threat. She recognized me once, so she’ll do it again. If she exposes me before I’m ready, everything falls apart. Ten years of planning wasted.

Options scroll through my mind like a tactical assessment:

1.Eliminate her. Clean. Simple. Effective. The thought doesn’t seem as beneficial as potentially using her, though.

2.Discredit her. Make any accusations seem like the delusions of a sick girl. Possible, but messy. Requires more time than I have.

3.Isolate her. Keep her away from anyone she might talk to until my plan is complete. Doable, but adds complications.

4.Seduce her. Use her attraction to Aries against her, make her complicit. Keep her close. Monitor her.

The last option lingers, appealing in ways that have nothing to do with strategy. Dangerous thinking. I need to be ruthless here. Sentiment is what got me locked up in the first place, that misplaced loyalty to a brother who stood by and watched them take me away. Who didn’t even fucking try. Who never visited or wrote letters. I won’t make that mistake again.

Lilian Hayes needs to be removed from the equation. One way or another.

I reach for the burner phone, and navigate to the contacts. My finger hovers over the contact labeledCleanup.One call, and professional fixers will make sure Lilian Hayes never interferes with anything again.

Quick. Efficient. Final.

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