Unwelcome

01

I have never been a fan of knocking people out,

it takes too much time, its too messy, too noisy, too annoying,

That's why when I am obliged to knock a person out, I prefer a hefty dose of Ketamine straight down the throat. Or maybe a nice sturdy thump on the side of the head.

But nevertheless, both of the ways work anyways, all you've got to do is pick well or- choose your favorite method.

Like I did..

I stare down at the pale body beneath me. The lifeless face of my dear guardian stares back at me. I stare at his disheveled dirt brown hair that's peppered with white locks. I stare at his rumpled dress shirt stained with alcohol. His arms are tightly wrapped around an expensive looking bottle of liquor. Which is now empty.

Ah, It seems like he's taken the bait.

Like always.

Richard Van Hook loved to take his alcohol in the evenings,

or at anytime really. I mean it could be morning, noon or midnight and he wouldn't mind, anything ranging from beer, wine, rum, cider would be splendid. He really wasn't that picky, just give him a bottle of liquor and he'll be just fine.

That's why he didn't notice the difference when his drinks were spiked with various drugs, he was always drunk anyways. I would consistently be experimenting on him. Some of my favorite combos were created thanks to him.

Today, I tried a mix of Xanax and GHB with a sprinkle of Cocaine. And seeing the state of his consciousness right now, I can probably say it works wonders.

I lean in and snap my fingers in his face, just to make sure he really is out cold. I scrunch my nose when I catch a whiff of his sour stench. He doesn't move an inch when clap right next to his ear.

Alrighty, I should add this to my list of favorites.

I watch as he breathes steadily, his head propped on the side of the armchair.

In.

Out.

In

Out

I squint my eyes, analyzing him for a second before my eyes catch on the edge of a bank note sticking out of his trouser pockets.

Huh, interesting..

I reach over and pull it out along with the others. Meh, he isn't gonna notice a couple of hundreds gone.

I take one last look at his limp figure, turn away and duck into the hallway, slipping on my coat and sandals.

I have a meeting to get to, and being tardy was not the way I want to go about it. Last thing I need is an angry Saja all up in my face for being late.

The hall is an absolute pigsty -I mean the whole house is.

At this point, I've given up hope for this place to ever look clean again. I swear each time I tidy it up, it ends up looking worse then it did before.

The less Alan came around, the worse the state of the house would become. Richard was getting too carefree and aloof. Well, at least around me...

Outside the fancy looking mansion I call home, sits my lonely looking car looking terribly out of place with all the flashy exterior.