Page 11 of Brainwashed
But it’s more than that. My interest in Trevel is about his crimes, and his desire to stray from his biology. It’s one of the more captivating nature-versus-nurture debates…
If it hadn’t been for Trevel’s horrible upbringing, and all the atrocities he’s experienced, would he have felt inclined to kill those men?
Many people say no. They believe, undoubtedly, that Trevel Fenwick is a victim of circumstance.
I, on the other hand, am here to challenge that notion.
It’s very possible that what happened to him is what brought his emotional abnormalities to the surface, like sunlight and water feeding a seedling, growing it into a strong and sturdy weed.But Ipersonallybelieve that the seed itself was already there, planted in his mind at birth. Hidden away, just waiting.
And based on what Trevel said today, in our session, I think despite his attempts at weeding what lives inside him for years, it may just sprout up again.
“Hey, Lem.”
A familiar female voice pulls me out of my head, and I dip my chin to find Cynthia Banks standing beside me, dabbing her forehead with a towel from around her neck.
“Cynthia,” I respond as the elevator dings and the doors open.
We step inside together, both reaching for the buttons at the same time, and sharing awkward apologies before I press hers, then mine.I admit to the tension, and I take responsibility for it. After all, I know the source.
I haven’t called her since the last time we slept together.
I know, I know.I violated the cardinal rule ofdon’t shit where you eat, and slept with someone who lives in my building.Bad idea.But Cynthia is attractive, interested, and we’d both agreed it would just be a casual stress-reliever of sorts.
Like exercise, which we also both enjoy.
Unfortunately, the way she’s shifting next to me right now, twirling her hair and peeking at me subtly, leads me to believe I might have screwed myself more than her.
“We should get together again,” she says, and my eyes tumble down the many inches separating us in height. “Last time was fun.”
My head does a little bob, but that’s about it. And we ride the rest of the way in silence.
When the doors open for her floor, she shoots me a quick, rather salacious look and purrs, “Maybe stop by later. I’ll be up.”
I blink as the doors close.
A few floors up, I exit, making my way into my apartment, all the while considering Cynthia’s bold request. I won’t say the sex wasn’t good, because it definitely was. It’s just that what I’m looking for is infinitely more casual than what any of my female companions seem interested in.
In the comfort of my own mind, I can confess… What Itrulywant is someone to come to me when she wants to be drilled into the mattress, without the unnecessary dates or elaborate invitations, and then once we’re both satisfied, they leave without a word.
You try saying that to a woman, I dare you.
And yes, I know exactly how misogynistic I sound. But that’s what I want. I can’t help it. Relationships have never appealed to me much, and when it comes to sex, well… I like to have fun with it. And the fun has a tendency to end as soon as we get off.
Everyone always says,maybe you just haven’t met the right woman yet.And that could be true. But I’m not even sure I want to try.
A flash behind my eyes causes me to falter on my way to the shower.
“Oh, God… Lemuel! It’s not how it looks!”
I rub my eyes hard with my fingers.
Circumstanceonly takes us so far…
Turning on the shower, I pull my shirt over my head. But before I can shove my basketball shorts down, my cell phone rings in the pocket.
Pulling it out, I check the screen. It says Unknown.
I hate answering calls for unknown numbers, but because of my work, I prefer not to screen. So I swipe to answer.
