Page 28 of Darling Psycho

But he’d always known what he had to do.

Operation Sin to begin.

Angela wasn’t a project.

She wasn’t something his brain latched onto like a new hobby.

When bored, Lawless could get into trouble with his fixations.

This was wholly brand new to him.

Even when he hadn’t admitted it to himself, lying like a good little psycho did, pretending with his lying lips on display, she had been something unique to him.

Her broken wings were his beacon.

Her cries were music.

She was the phantom sinful taste in the back of his throat that haunted his dreams and waking hours.

His little buddy hated him, didn’t she?

Well, she was about to get over that real damn fast.

That night out on the penthouse balcony, Lawless swigged from a glass of vintage Scotch and rolled his aching neck. He wasn’t apologetic when he went into deviant mode and activated the camera feed.

He watched her prowling around his cabin, dressed only in a pair of panties, a college t-shirt, and knee-length socks.

Lawless, like the fixating bastard he was, visually stalked her for hours while she sat with her legs curled under her and worked on the computer. Then she played with Oscar, ate snacks in front of the TV. His greedy eyes followed her when she took a shower and crawled into his bed, curling up on her side. She didn’t reach beneath the sheets tonight.

Was he disappointed he wouldn’t see her shuddering again with her naked lips parted in her pleasure?

The deviant in him watched until she slept.

And then he exhaled and switched off the feed.

His fix had been enough.

But it wouldn’t always be that way.

Monsters needed feeding, and Lawless was fucking starving.

NINE

“What’s a deadly threat between friends?” – Lawless

There was a prowling monster inside everyone.

Most lie and deny it’s there because it suits their boring narrative.

Lawless always embraced his demons, and he’d fed them well.

Did it make him inhumane the things he did? Who fucking cared. He didn’t.

Not on the surface. Not deep down.

His wrong wiring didn’t fire off pitying sounds of woe or guilt.

If there was a soul underneath all his guts and blood, it’s where the monster lived happily chewing on the gristle of men he destroyed.

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