Forever Halloween With You

Chapter 10

Malachi

"I love you Kai," she says, her brown doe eyes wide underneath her glasses. I clench my fists to my side, as we lean on the bookshelves secluded from anyone else who may enter. She stands in front of me, her body trembling making the damn shelf shake.

"Love isn't real."

"Sure it is."

I don't want to hurt her, but she is building a fantasy in her head about me, one that will never happen. I'm not the good guy. She's the type that wants the white picket fence, nice house, and a husband that works nine to five. I'll never be that guy ever, nor do I want to be. I've wrapped what I feel for lavender as a pure obsession, a good time that I'm now seeing is going to be harder to let go. My life has been nothing but brutal, as has her in different ways. We are just two fucked up kids who found solace in each other. We thrive on one another. We connect on a level so few do but most importantly, she sees me. See's me for my crazy and justifies it. Understands it.

"Love is a temporary feeling of a high. A high that you eventually will come down from, and search for another. Love isn't real, it's a quick feeling of happiness."

"Morbid much?"

"Don't waste your high on me."

"What if I want to?," she asks, looking down at her feet. I grab her by the throat, the shock in her face forms, while her eyes begin to water.

"Then waste it, but remember it won't last forever," and then I smash my lips on hers, while she lets out a small whimper.

I punch the wall next to the door and begin banging my head on the spot, over and over and over until I feel some sort of pain. I wanted her to come down from that high when I left, I wanted her to move on just so I can sweep back in when the time was right, and bring her another high again. A high that would last longer, but it seems she's been high on me since the last time I saw her. She seems to be fucking all my well thought plans out for her, which is sending my mind to fucking tick. Tick Tick Tick. I have to keep my eyes on the other prize since I cant find anything here, I'll have to pry it from his fucking mouth. I have to show myself to dad- I'll have to torture the information out of him. I know, I know bad plan b but I have nothing else. Personally I think torturing him will bring me healing from the wounds he put upon me as well as Julian. I'm taking my dreams of hurting him and making them a reality.. and how sweet it'll be.

*

I clear the dining room table, placing a white coconut smelling candle in the middle. Moms favorite. I moved another chair off the table and against the wall, just for him. I took the liberty of going in the garage and grabbing some rope, zip ties, and of course a hunting knife. The blade smooth and lethal. Thinking of it slicing through his skin gives me a boost of serotonin, which docs at the ward said I lack. Medicine was never going to control me, everyone knew it. I sit nicely at the table, like a well mannered boy, waiting for his daddy to come home. My body is becoming far too impatient with anticipation, so I begin to tap my foot on the tile floor to ease up. I made sure to shut moms door and tuck her in for the night, with her fan on full blast for extra sound support. I hear the stumble footsteps outside the front door and my brain goes alert. A smile growing on my face as my imagination runs rapid. He opens the door, falling on to the ground but ultimately pulling himself up minutes later. "Penny? Is that you?" He slurs, walking through the hallway. The man is so fucking drunk and probably high he thinks my mom is walking around. What a fucking idiot.

I have my back to him knowing he cant harm me now, as his loud footsteps come closer. "W..Who the fuck are you?" He asks in his drunken voice. I pause a moment relishing in the fact that I am finally here, and that this is going to happen. "I said." I stand from my chair with my head high, looking into those glossy drunk eyes. He stands about five foot six now, shrinking from age. His hair is sparse with spots of bald areas, his face sunken in, his fat cheeks red and wrinkled now. His beer belly has grown double in size. "Who the fuck are you?" He asks, stumbling back. "You don't know who I am?" He shuffles on the floor, scooting back from me, his shirt riding up to expose his fat. "Listen did Greg send you? Man I told him I'd get his money by the end of the week!" He yells. I slowly step towards him, every step more of a stomp. My hand reaches around to my back pocket as I take the knife in hand. "Greg didn't send me." I quickly lean down, grabbing his ankle and twisting it, slicing his Achilles heal. I watch as the blood pours and pours, the sound of his wails giving me satisfaction. "Why!" He screams. I take his other ankle as he protests, using not much strength before slicing the other one as well. A pool of blood circles him. "Cant get up?" I taunt, wiping the blood of the knife on his shirt. He cries and cries like the pathetic man he is. I grip him from his grey collar shirt, dragging him to the chair I so nicely set up for him. Taking both hands, I lift his fat fucking self, setting him down.