I’d pushed and pushed, determined to see Manson reach the edge of his patience. There was beast in him, beyond the calm; it was vicious and dangerous and I wanted nothing more than to draw it out. I’d seen it that day he’d gotten expelled, when he’d finally pulled a knife on the assholes who had poked at him for years. That was the beast I wanted, that was the Manson I had to experience. I couldn’t fully explain the desire, not yet. But maybe once it was fulfilled, I’d understand.
