Devil in Your Smile

Chapter 10, Living Dead Boy

LOUIS POV

As always, the guilty ones are the easiest to please. My guess is, their heads are so clouded with the anticipation and excitement of getting what they want, getting WHO they want, that their natural instincts that should protect them, are practically nonexistent. Its men like you Adam, the men who spend so much time thinking about the hunt are usually the ones who end up with the short end of the stick. Not that it's a bad thing, life cutting you down. As soon as I turn in your general direction, you glue yourself to me. I play my usual game, the cat chasing the mouse. As the thought pops into my head, so does a flash of sitting with my mom and Lottie, watching Tom and Jerry. I blink myself out of the memory, letting it fade even though all I want to do is close my eyes and bask in the recollection. I listen to him talk about himself, and struggle to keep a straight face when I notice he's telling me everything I already know, things I've already read about him online. You tell me that you're a 'laid back kinda guy' which makes me suppress an eye roll. After listening to you ramble about your job and how you're a higher up in the company, I start to flirt with you, letting my hand drop from its place on the bar and onto your upper thigh. You see the ring on my finger, and ask if I'm married, but don't say it in a way that makes me think it would bother you if I was. "No, it's a purity ring" I say, twisting it while acting like the shy blushing virgin I'm supposed to be. I see you smirk, and from the corner of my eye I watch your hand disappear into the pocket of your jeans. You pull something out, worrying me for a second that you might not take the bait, and give me your number or card and end the night there. Luckily for me, it's not paper, but a small bag. I realize that it's probably a pill or powder.

You lean in, speaking up a bit to say "can I buy you another drink? Your glass has been empty for a while. Don't worry, I promise you won't break the bank, order whatever." you say it with such conviction, so much confidence. But, I know it's all fake. A man who was truly confident in himself wouldn't have to force himself onto someone. I hide my disdain, and agree to the drink. I watch as the bartender comes towards us, and watch as you confidently say "another one of what he's drinking, and a beer for me." The bartender looks at me with a bored but questioning gaze, and I speak up. " Wine spritzer, please" I give a polite smile, one that slowly slips away as I see Adam hand the barkeep the money, with a little baggie tucked between the bills. Fucking hell, there's more than one villain this time? I wonder how much it pays to help a rapist. When the bartender comes back with the drinks, I pretend to not see the cloud of powder that's settled at the bottom of my glass. I smile at you, and give a quiet 'thanks' as I stick my straw into the cold liquid. While looking you in the eye, I put the straw in my mouth and let the drug get sucked up into the straw. The bitter taste of the wine mixed with the light flavor of the medicine hit my tongue, and I ignore the extra bit of hatred for you that floods my body. I know I have less than thirty minutes before the drug affects me, so after a few minutes of boring conversation, light touches, and fake giggles, I make my way to the bathroom. Once I'm safe behind the doors of the restroom, I run to the toilet and stick my fingers down my throat, forcing the poisonous medicine from my body. I can feel my vision blurring a bit, either from the tears gathered from heaving or from the effects of the drug. Any other person would already be passed out, but ironically you chose to drug someone who's been drugged so many times in the last six years that I've gained a tolerance to most date-rape drugs. After emptying my stomach, I move in front of the mirror to make myself look presentable, but at the same time messing up my hair a bit and smudging a bit of the eyeliner to make myself look inebriated. After I deem myself messed up enough for you to buy the act, I make my way back to you.

When I open the main door to the bathroom, I see you with your group of friends, laughing along with one of the other men. I decide that now is the time to put on my acting skills, stumbling out of the bathroom and using the wall as a prop so I don't 'fall'. I watch as you break away from your friends once again, nodding towards me before smirking and walking towards me. You put your arm around my waist, and I shift my weight off of the wall and onto you. You put your mouth near my ear, and say "let's get you home, huh?" playing nice guy, Adam? We both know you aren't the knight in shining armor you're pretending to be. You slowly lead me towards the door, slowing your pace a few times when a pair of drunk women stop to talk in front of us, and when a group of men push their way through the entrance. I hear you huff, and I lean into you even more, practically having you carry me now. When we finally make it outside, the first thing I'm hit with is the smell of oil from the parking area, and the yellow hue from the old streetlights a few yards away. I let you lead me to where you're parked, only to see that you're pulling me towards a van. That messes with my plans a bit, Adam, but I can manage. Knowing this makes me glad I chose to cut a place to hide my knife in the inner lining of my shorts. I let myself fall into you as you stop beside the van, and let you pick me up and throw me into the back once you've opened the door. I lay still as you close the door behind you, faking a few incoherent sentences while you prepare yourself.