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You can’t fix a psychopath. You can’t fix a sociopath. But you can guide them, hone their focus. Teach them how to direct their rage towards those who deserve it.”
Adam had no baseline for normal. He could only watch and mimic what he saw. He wasn’t a six-year-old boy. He was a six-year-old robot currently downloading the software that made a six-year-old boy.
“Don’t you live in a mansion on the other side of town?” Adam shook his head with a smile. “No, my dad does. I live in a studio apartment on the other side of town.” “And why can’t you go sleep there?” Adam shrugged. “Because you’re not there and I want to be with you.”
Adam woke with his arms around Noah, his body tucked snuggly against him. He was small compared to Adam’s six foot two, but he fit perfectly, allowing Adam to all but envelop him when they spooned. He liked the idea of people having to go through him to get to Noah. It was a foreign concept. He didn’t know how to describe it. From the moment he’d seen him standing there, holding that gun on him, Adam had just known he wasn’t going to let him go. Ever.
He seemed to be this strange mixture of brute force and childlike possessiveness, like Noah was his new favorite toy and he’d smash it before he’d let anybody else play with it. That shouldn’t have been hot…but it was. Noah had never been anybody’s favorite anything.
If he didn’t stop saying things like that, Noah was going to do something stupid like fall in love with a murderer.
“Then, by your own logic, you should do the opposite. And stay. With me.” “This is crazy.” “All the best things are.”
Honestly, if I said half the things I think when I look at you, you’d run screaming into the night.”
“I know you’re mine. I know it. Deep down, in that part of my brain that doesn’t care what is right or how society dictates how people choose a mate. I chose you. I want you. Just you. My brain has picked you, and now, I can’t undo it. You’re trapped. With me. For life.”
Look like the flower but be the serpent underneath,’”
“I want you inside me, but I don’t want it rough. I’m not in the mood. I want the feelings stuff. Kissing. Missionary. Lots of eye contact and mushiness. Fuck me but make it romantic-like.”
“You know I’d fucking tear the world down for you, don’t you?”
