The Bad Guy

by Celia Aaron

I’d been home schooled after the first grade. Apparently, the incident where I’d informed another first grader that I intended to disembowel him the next time he tripped me on my way to class was frowned upon by my parents and my private school.

Father had to keep me occupied somehow, to make sure I didn’t end up in an institution. Little did he know that psychopaths made the best CEOs.

Right before I lost sight of her, she turned and smiled at me, as if sending me a spark of hope. The spark lit an inferno. It blazed up and promised destruction for anything that got between us. She was mine. Even if I had to steal her.

Smile when they smile. It’ll take you miles. When in doubt, wait it out. Emotions will always show what they’re about.

“You’re deranged.” He smirked, the quirk of his lips cruel. “You aren’t the first to call me that, though I prefer high-functioning psychopath.”

“Where you’re concerned, I’ll be as creepy as necessary to make you happy.”

A part of you knows that I’m the man for you. That we belong together. That’s the real you. You aren’t some fair maiden that your idiot boyfriend must save and speak for and treat like a princess. You’re light, but you crave the dark. You crave me.”

I’m drawn to your spark of darkness the same way you’re drawn to the ocean of mine. We aren’t magnets pulled together by a weak force; we create our own gravity for each other.”

I relished the reverberating pain of her teeth marks. “Next time, draw blood.” “Psycho.” I kissed her hair again and relaxed into my pillow. “Your psycho.”

You had a white knight, but you were waiting for your monster. Here I am.”

“If you sat on my face, I’d be more than happy to suffocate, just so long as you came first. And I can guarantee you would.” He licked his lips.

“What’s in the locked room? Severed head collection?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” I grinned. “That’s where I stack the dead hookers.”

The sun doesn’t reduce its heat to assuage the frigid moon.” “How do you do it?” He cocked his head to the side. “What?” “Say things like that? Pure poetry from someone who never feels.” “It’s you.” He leaned closer and slid his hand higher on my thigh. “You’re the reason. I can assure you I’ve never said a poetic word in my life until I met you.”

“How is it that I, a fucking psychopath, feel more for her than she feels for me?”

“Let’s just say that she’s going to keep running, but she’s fine with letting me catch her every so often.”