Sinister

I know its over-still I cling

Predator:
1. an animal that naturally preys on others.
2.
a person who ruthlessly exploits others

It's been a week since I've been ripped away from my world, and thrown into another. I have become a replacement for my mother—-a more interesting specimen for him to conduct his psychological experiments. But of course, he's maintained the image of a dutiful father and husband; whisking me off to New York while placing my mother in an expensive facility. Now, without my other half, I felt the need to join her. I'm lost without him. My mood had become erratic—it keeps James away, "busy" at his office on the upper east side. Insomnia has robbed me of an escape from this hell, leaving me suffocated by broken memories.

The dark-haired boy laying on my stomach suddenly stirred from his sleep. I held my breath. "Were you crying again?" He whispered into my skin. I said nothing, allowing a tear to trickle down my cheek instead. He tilted his head up. Heterochromia eyes bore into mine. "I-I-I promised James I w-would take care of you". In a desperate attempt to convince James to stay (for no other reason than my need to remain close to Roman), I briefly mentioned my ties to Adonis. He sympathized, agreeing to take Adonis into his home on the condition that he watch over me.

"I miss him".

"I know b-b-but he's a bad person".

"You're a bad person".

His eyes went dead, something that I had only witnessed once—-during the infamous cat-killing video. My skin prickled with goosebumps. "Are you c-cold?" I watched as his disfigured fingers traveled up my arm.
The skin puckering, raw, and clearly infected. "Let me bandage your hands again". He groaned, rolling off of my tummy and onto his back. "I can't fucking paint like that, b-b-but, of course, you kn-know that". Touché. "You're going to ruin them if they become even more infected—". "They're fine! Why-why do you even care". He removed the cigarette that rested behind his ear and reached for the lighter that lay on the dresser. "Why can't you go on the balcony?" I muttered. "H-h-have you seen my lighter?". "No" I lied. He had developed a terrible habit of smoking Newports whenever he needed inspiration for his next big piece—which so happened to be every few hours.

"It-it-it was right here".

"Maybe it's a sign to stop smoking so much".

He whipped his head around, "If-if-if you don't w-want me t-to be a bad person I need my c-cigarettes or at least until I find a d-dealer". I reached under my pillow to retrieve the lighter from its hiding place. "Here's your stupid lighter" I spat, flinging it into his unsuspecting body. It collided with his ribs, creating a hollow thumping sound on impact. He calmly placed the cigarette in between his lips and lit it. His eyes remained fixated on mine as smoke exited his nose. I would've found it alluring if it weren't for his defiance. I needed to remind him of his devotion to me—that he held the burden of making my pain his.

I took the cigarette from his lips and before I could further rationalize my actions, I pressed it into my thigh. "STOP!" He knocked the cigarette out of my hand, sending it flying across the room. I blinked. "WH-WH-WHY WOULD YOU DO TH-THAT"? "You wouldn't listen to me, Adonis—". "S-s-so you fucking weaponize yourself!". I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to having someone care about me without transaction. I wasn't used to pain not being a symbol of love. I wasn't used to fighting my instincts of manipulation because it meant survival. "Y-y-you need to heal....I'm h-h-here to help you heal. If you're going t-t-to hurt anyone hurt me. Use me".

I studied his features. The slope of his nose, the bow of his lips, his slightly greasy hair, and lastly his eyes. The eyes that always looked at me with such admiration and love. Those same eyes belonged to a killer, someone dangerous. I could pretend to be a person of moral character for theatrics but deep down I found it thrilling. "Would you do anything for me?" I whispered. He nodded. I moved closer. Our lips were almost touching, our breaths were shared, and I could taste the smoke from his single drag. "Would you kill Roman"? "No". No? "Fuck you". "Okay," he agreed softly. We stared at each other, stealing breaths and exchanging words. I needed him to submit.