Page 84 of Brainwashed
But I didn’t mind. I liked giving the guys orgasms, and when they would give me my own, I didn’t have to fake anything. But in the back of my mind, I was always waiting for the part that curled my toes. The part that tickled my stomach and spread heat like a wave from my groin to my chest.
They would inevitably try to leave. And I would keep them.
The interesting part was that I’m not sure I wanted them towantto stay. Like if I asked one of them to stay and he’d said,Sure, I’d love to!I don’t know what I would have done.
I mean, Iknowwhat I would have done… I’d have killed him, regardless. Because the idea that anyone would willingly want to stay with me was ridiculous. Even if they said it, they didn’t mean it.
Maybe back then, when I was still new in my habit, I would have believed them. I would have trusted them when they said they wanted me.
But as time went on, I grew a bit hardened. I became much more cynical over that first year of killing, because ultimately people are too selfish to consider what someone else wants. They only care about fulfilling themselves. They’ll suck you dry and toss you out when you’re no longer useful to them. I realized it after Emmanuel, and each of the nine who followed him were no different.
It brought up a lot of insecurities in myself. I was constantly thinking I wasn’t enough for these men. I wasn’t good enough to hold down a relationship. I was too broken for anyone to really love me.
That was whyThe Carverwas so necessary. He saved me from the harsh pain of reality. He’s always been the real me, devoid of the rampant emotionsFelix Darceyfeels; the inadequacies, the desperate need for affection.The Carveronly wants one thing, and that’s to kill.
He’s simplistic, and I have to appreciate that.
So after a while, I let him take the wheel. It was by about the fourth or fifth victim that I stopped even trying to pretend I didn’t want it. That teeny tiny voice inside that used to offer a measly argument as to why Ishouldn’tkill had been snuffed out, rather quickly and effortlessly, too. Truth be told, that voice never really sounded like me, anyway. It sounded more like the voice of society.
This is how you shouldfeel, think, act, Felix.
Well, I didn’t. I didn’t think the way other people did, that much was clear. I certainly didn’tfeelthe way they did. My feelings were all over the place. Sometimes I would be so overflowing with emotions I couldn’t even leave the house. I would stay in bed for days straight and cry, and I didn’t even know why I was doing it.
Other times I felt nothing. I was an empty husk, shuffling around like a zombie.
Fortunately, I had taught myself at a young age how to act like those around me. I must admit, I wasn’t amazing at it, which was what earned me a lot of teasing when I was young. But still, at college and in New York City, I didn’t really need to fit in much. I just used my invisibility to avoid it altogether. No one even noticed that I was there.
It made capturing my victims a breeze, and even disposing of them was easier than it probably should have been.
I didn’t tell my parents right away when I stopped going to school. I knew they would just get on my case about it. And God forbid if they tried to take away my apartment. It was my sanctuary. I couldn’t give it up. It was perfectly secluded, and none of my neighbors asked questions or complained about the occasional smell, the loud music, or the sounds of struggle.
Plus, it had aperfectbathtub for chopping up bodies.
They did eventually find out I was no longer going to school, but by that time my father was dating Shirley and my mother was so focused on how much she hated that, and how much she was convinced it was affecting Zach, that they barely cared. They told me to get a job, which I did, at the used bookstore. But I didn’t need the money, since they still paid for everything.
I had the ultimate setup. I was on my own, left up to my own devices. The perfect opportunity for The Carver to hone his craft.
And that was when I ran into someone from my past. Someone who I felt had directly altered the path of my life in a very crucial way.
I was in the park one evening in October. I was watching a guy I thought was cute. He was a little on the thinner side for my liking, but he had a nice face. Something about the way he was just walking by himself drew me in. I felt a sort of kinship with him. Like maybe he was alone, just like me.
He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Probably a freshman, yet to make any friends. I knew the feeling.
I also didn’t typically go for younger guys, but I was barely on the cusp of twenty years old, and less than two years didn’t seem like much of an age difference. I found him very intriguing, with his pale blonde hair and big, sad eyes.
I lingered around a tree, watching him go into the restroom. I was prepared to just stand and wait for him to come out, because following people into the bathroom has never seemed appealing to me. But then I saw something.
A nearby jogger who’d been sort of circling our general area slowed down his pace and walked over to the restrooms. He looked around—which is an awfully suspicious thing to do before going into a bathroom, if you ask me—and then followed the guy inside.
My eyes narrowed. He looked very familiar. I had, of course, seen him from afar, having learned to always be hyperaware of my surroundings. He looked like he was in his fifties, but in pretty good shape for his age. His hair was mostly dark, but with that salt-and-pepper gray at his temples. Square jaw dusted with stubble, broad masculine shoulders… And then something stuck out in my mind.
I thought I’d spotted a tattoo on his forearm… A rosary wrapping around and weaving its way down to his hand. It’s not the rarest tattoo in the world, but I remembered one specific person I knew years back having it.
My stomach was aflutter as I walked, swiftly yet quietly on my toes, to the restrooms, peering inside. There was no one at the urinals, meaning they must have both been inside the stalls, which was odd. So I stood and waited, holding my breath to listen closely. And only a few seconds later, I heard a muffled groan and a sort of thud that rocked the stalls a bit.
Wandering inside, I overheard someone murmuring,Shhh.
Checking underneath the stalls, it was obvious that the first two were empty. But beneath the door of the one on the end, I could see the older man standing—in his jogging shorts—and then my new boyfriend. On his knees.
