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.

She was mine. Even if I had to steal her.

“I never want to hurt you.” He shook his head. “I’ll kill anyone who does.” “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.”

“That you and I are two parts of a whole.”

I’d almost finished my drawing of the black bat flower and stared at my color pencil. The tip seemed plenty sharp. “You better go for the eye if you’re serious.” Sebastian leaned over me and perused my work. “Shove upward hard if you want to impale my brain. Finish me off or I’ll find you. How was your run this afternoon, by the way?” “You are sick.” “That’s what all the professionals say.”

“I’m sorry.” I withdrew and wrapped my arms around myself. “No you aren’t. If you were sorry, you’d let me go.” “I can’t.” He sighed. “You’re afraid I’ll tell?” “No.” “Then what?” “I don’t think I can live without you.”

“Every bad guy is the hero of his own tale.” “Seriously?” I gawked at him in the reflective door. “The hero?” “I saved you from that dimwit, gave you a castle full of your favorite things, and am prepared to lay down my life for you in case of fire or other calamity. What about all that?”

“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.”

There was no other option with Camille. Wherever she went, I would go too. We were forever.

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.”