Fatal Infatuation [18+] DISCONTINUED

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(Flashback)

A young Roman recalled himself standing over the twitching, convulsing body of a dead bird. He felt nothing for the creature, not an ounce of sympathy for its pain or an ounce of regret for causing it to suffer. The bird laid atop the patch of red grass, its eyes glossing over and its bone sticking out of its left wing. To Roman, the bird wasn't a threat, or an obstacle, it was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn't deserve to die, but it did. He wasn't supposed to kill it, but it happened. He dismissed it as the circle of life, the bird as a vulnerable creature with nothing ahead of it. 

He knew that he wasn't permitted to harm an animal, but that rule meant nothing to him. In fact, it made him want to do it even more. He knew that his parents would reprimand him, but that didn't bother him either. He knew that no matter how many times he would be yelled at, punished, grounded, scorned, it wouldn't make a difference to him. He still thought of himself highly, and he simply didn't care what others had to say. That's why, when he confessed his sins to his parents, he nearly did it with pride. 

His parents, two high-class, suburban, religious folk, were appalled by his actions. They blamed themselves for him turning out this way, and they asked, "What happened in your life to make you so awful?" 

The answer was; nothing. There was no reason for it. He had a perfectly fine childhood, one that was above average, with no financial or parental struggles. Toys, extravagant birthday parties, love from both of his parents, and still, his brain simply didn't develop the right way. A part of him knew that he was strange and unlike the other kids, but that didn't make a difference in his life. He continued living, masking his illness at times, or completely unleashing it and facing no consequences either way. At school, all of his peers wanted nothing more than to have him in their groups. He was an asset, an accessory, something to flaunt. His parents' fortune and status made him valuable. 

He didn't want friends, he didn't want to be in a group or a clique or an activity, and most of the times, if someone did approach him, he would make sure they never continued. Whether it was cruel insults, manipulation, physical violence, he would find a way to make people scared of him. Not because he needed them to be, but because he simply found it entertaining to watch them scramble away from him. No one ever did anything about it, no one ever stood up to him or told on him, because his parents would make the school ignore it by paying them a large sum of money. They nearly funded the whole school trying to make his little 'incidents' go unheard. 

He adored it. All of it. Being in control, being feared, being admired. He couldn't get enough of it. 

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(Evelyn's POV)

I ran, and ran, and ran through the woods. It was dark, I couldn't see anything and I couldn't hear anything except the dry grass under my bare feet and the trees bustling. I could still hear Roman's laughter in my ear, even though I knew he wasn't there. It rang over and over again in my head, like some kind of messed up alarm. I took a brief pause to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. My lungs felt like they were burning as I panted heavily. I knew that despite the cuts and splinters on my feet from the various stones and branches and glass I was stepping on, and the way my body felt like it was on fire with every step I took, I had to keep going. 

I had nothing on me except my shirt and my underwear. No money, no food, nothing. I felt naked, afraid, vulnerable. I kept running, trying to forget the pain in my legs and the pain in my lungs. The more I ran, the more I looked over my shoulder to see if Roman had followed me. I could've sworn he was there. I kept running, not knowing what I was running towards, and only knowing what I was running from. 

I couldn't see the house anymore, and I couldn't feel his presence anymore. I took another break, standing still to look around me. There was nothing but trees and bushes, and I was starting to get tired of running around these stupid endless woods. I groaned in frustration and exhaustion, leaning against a tree and wiping my forehead. I looked down at my arm, and a bruise was forming where Roman hit me. 

I slid down the tree, the rough bark scratching against my bare legs, but it didn't matter anymore. I was too tired to keep running. "I just need to rest for a moment," I muttered to myself, my eyes growing heavy as I felt myself fall asleep.