Entwined

Double-edged Lust

Silas Pov

Since I was a child, I have hated it when someone touched or dared to take what is mine. I used to clean every toy I had; my classic mini car collection was always shining. I grew into a very possessive man with a big ego.

That didn't bother me in the least; in fact, I reveled in it. I loved myself, how I am, and how I deal with things. They taught me that I couldn't have everything I wanted, and I grew to realize that only the weak believed that. If you are weak enough to give up mid-game, surely you can't have anything.

I've had anger issues since childhood; my parents took me to a therapist. He was brilliant, clever, but not enough. After some sessions and dealing with loads of what I considered bullshit, I just faked it all. Well, I did what he told me to do: "learn to contain my anger" (in front of people).

I never showed my anger anymore; I just took revenge on people in a certain way. Um, how can I describe it? Well, it's just what common people describe as "strategic," in short, a way that won't lead me to a mental asylum.

I made sure it hurt badly and permanently. If I had a spider disturbing my peace, I made sure to cut each leg off one at a time, never crush it whole, always in pieces.

And one more thing.

Patience.

What the hell is wrong with people always advising others to be patient and all that talk about the "right time"?

Patience can never be my last name. BUT life is a bitch.

I fucking had to be patient on top of not dislocating people the minute they pissed me off.

Just a piece of advice, kids.

If you want something, take it at all costs.

I was cleaning my car collection again when my phone rang.

It got on my nerves. I was already tense.

"Oh, for Christ sake," I shouted internally as I put my phone on "do not disturb" mode.

It must be the fifth time I've cleaned my cars since I left Cindy's house. I was one second away from cutting Hugo's throat open. I didn't see him coming. Honestly, I thought he would die from depression. At least that's what I hoped. Depressed people do not heal easily; there is always a familiar sadness roaming inside their souls. I hoped to see it when I took him surfing as he opened up to me about his mental state.

It was still there. I could see it. He is a weak man. Always has been and always will be. He never worked on himself. Always patient and always hesitating. Indecisive and an asshole.

I was dying to know why Cindy loved him. I asked her once, but she gave me the unanimous answer.

"Oh, he is everything I ever wanted; he never hurts me intentionally, he is thoughtful, puts effort and energy into our relationship. Look, he bought me this necklace I always wanted; oh, look at the roses he bought for Valentine's, they smell good; oh, he bought me sweets and chips when I had my period. He is my other half."

"Oh, for God's sake, give me a gun. I will gladly shoot myself," I screamed in my head while she was talking.

"Oh, he will take me to his grandparents' village this weekend."

First of all, him coming back wasn't on my agenda, he was supposed to die alone and preferably miles away from what's mine. And they sure as hell weren't supposed to get back together this fast and travel together. Taking what's mine away from me because someone is in love.

I could feel the headache settling in the lower part of my head.

This is just going against my plans. I had to figure out something. Gregorie was a winning case, but Hugo, as much as he is weak, his case is just phenomenally complicated.