Darkly, Madly Duet

by Trisha Wolfe

Wiggle inside my head and crawl around. A week together, and she still doesn’t get it. There’s nothing to be found. I’m not here for myself, to resolve my psychotic tendencies. To be rehabilitated with the hopes of reentering society. I’m here for her.

“You said you have doubts,” I say, keeping the tables turned. “But what if it’s not doubt. What if you don’t want rehabilitation to work.” Her mouth pops open. Before she can blurt a practiced retort, she checks herself. “Why would I not want it to work?” I shrug as I ease back into the chair. “Because seeking the answer on how to fix the sick and deviant is boring. You’re really seeking to understand why you’re so drawn to it. Which is far more interesting.”

Dr. London Noble has a reputation of getting convicted murderers a lighter or reduced sentence. She humanizes monsters. She tames the untamable. She’s the answer to every serial killer on death row—their angel of mercy. But beneath that façade, a devil lurks.

All I know for sure is that we have a story. Ours is not a love story—we’re too volatile, too explosive for monotony. No, our story comes with a warning. Beware.

“You’re twisting things,” I say. “But you’re not wrong. All sinners are first victims. Everyone who lashes out to harm, has suffered harm themselves.” I run my hands over my thighs, staring at the gleaming metal of my cuffs. “It’s a simple yin yang; dark and light feeding each side and devouring. A snake eating it’s own tail. A vicious cycle.”

“None of us are powerless. Choice is the most powerful thing in this world. Everyone has a choice.”

If I’m obsessed, then she’s infatuated—an explosive combination.

If he’s evil, then am I in danger of falling for the devil, or am I the devil herself?

Then there was her. Synapses fired, awakening a forgotten, dormant road. I’ve never felt any connection to a single person… Until her. I covet this rarity. Anxious to nurture this dark little seed she planted in my soul. My own design of love may be a twisted creature, but that creature is hungry and demands to be fed.

“Inappropriate? I hardly think that expresses it. It was fucking shattering. You want romance, go find yourself a nice little do-boy. But you don’t want that—I tasted what you crave. I can feel it in you now. That dark obsession that twists you, makes you mine. ”

“It’s strange what impacts us. What defines us. People don’t remember the good. They remember what guts them.”

Solitude reveals who we are. Isolation is not loneliness; it’s the absence of noise and distraction. It forces you to acknowledge your worth. If you must surround yourself with people, you invite distractions from the one person deserving of your time: you.