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I respect and appreciate him, especially for bringing the ten of us together, but I don’t love him. I don’t love anyone. I’m more likely to obsess.
He’s jittery, currently caught in a manic episode he’s struggling to shake. When the darkness takes over his mind, he’s hard to be around.
“You’ve done it now, Remiel.” “Done what?” I’m breathless and boneless. “Woken me up.” I should be more scared of that than I am.
Something isn’t right with me, Krypt. Can’t you fucking see that? Can’t you tell how sick I am?” “Don’t,” he snarls. “Don’t say sick.” “Sick!” I scream, crazed now.
When he looks at me, I laugh. Crazed and pathetic, but fucking joyous. Because I’m getting fucked in the ass for the first time by a man I don’t even like, and everything hurts, but the hurt feels good because I’m so fucking afraid of it. I’m terrified and crazy. I’m wrong and right about it.
“Why? Why am I sick? Say it!” He presses the blade harder. “Because you raped me over a dead girl’s body.” He bites me. “Because you burned my house to the ground.” He cuts me. “Because you gave me no other choice but to want you! Because your sickness calls out to mine and makes me feel alive! Because whatever lives in your eyes is so fucking alluring to me that I’m even sicker than you are.”
Because Remiel Sauder has become everything to me. My property. My obsession. My fixation. My dream. I’ve never dreamed before.
I laugh into my bottle, feeling crazed. Two best friends, drinking beer in the middle of the night, talking about our sexual assaults like they weren’t assaults. No wonder we live in Moros. We’re as twisted as this town is.
The Mad Hatter said, ‘We’re all mad here.’ Einstein said, ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over and expecting different results.’ Alan Watts said, ‘In madness lies sanity.’ William Shakespeare said in Hamlet, ‘Though this be madness, yet there is a method in’t.’ Madness is of the mind. To experience true sanity, I must free myself from my mind. A full break. Shut it off and live without it.
The centre of my chest vibrates, and when I look at Gregory Malone with his forehead to the wall and his ass on the cot, my needs come alive. “Fuck me,” I tell Krypt. “I want to get off to his demise.
