Serpentine Desires

The predator

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Patience had never been a resort when it came to things a human wanted in the frisk of the moment. Ninety-nine percent of cases often ended in impulsive actions, fueled by the urgent need for immediate satisfaction. Desires were rarely quelled by logic or reason; they burned bright and fierce, demanding attention and fulfilment without delay.

But that one per cent... was the glitch.

I ruled that part.

At least that's what I believed.

The fact that I had perfectly mastered the art of patience set me apart from the impulsive masses. While others succumbed to their desires, allowing them to dictate their actions, I thrived in the one per cent.

Yet, even the most controlled mind can be tested.

My fucking belief in my patience was defied the moment I saw her with that fucker.

Ah, the irony.

The one thing I thought I had in spades, crumbling because of a simple, fleeting glance. Their proximity stirred something dark and twisted within me.

The urge to create havoc, to destroy everything she held dear surged through me like a drug. Oh, the thrill of it! I wanted to ruin her, to break her down piece by piece. Skin her like the canary Mother gifted me. She always knew how to pick the perfect toys. Only this time, I didn't want to just see underneath the flesh. No, I wanted to unravel her soul, to understand what made her tick, and then crush it all.

A careful plan began to form in my mind. First, eliminate the fucker. Slowly. Painfully. Maybe start with his fingers, watch the realization dawn in his eyes as he comprehended his impending doom. Then, leave him as a present for her. The horror, the tears, the despair—ah, it would be delicious. Would that please me? Yes. Would that be enough? No.

And her? She'd be next. But not too quickly. No, she needed to understand when I set eyes on certain things, I wouldn't stop at anything till I had her all to myself.

I could already imagine her screams, the terror in her eyes when she realised there was no escape. To peel back her layers, not just her skin but her very essence, exposing the raw, vulnerable core beneath. And then, when she was nothing but a trembling mess, I would decide whether to end her or let her live with the memory of what I'd done.

Yes, patience was my ally, and chaos my weapon.

She was an anomaly that stirred the calm waters of my plan.

Her sniffles pulled me out of the mayhem creating in my head. I let my eyes rake over her. Pressed against the couch as if it'd save her. I was so fucking enraged I almost forgot what I was planning to do to her. Fuck her and her infuriating existence. I'd fuck her once and get it over with.

I could see the spark of rebellion in her dark eyes, the need to run. I waited for it, intending to squash it once and for all. She fidgeted with her hands, and I noticed her fingers had started to turn blue. Now that I think, she was always wearing filthy clothes, not warm enough. She was wearing baggy jeans and an ugly sweater that swallowed her tiny frame.

But still, the rage inside me was all-consuming. It took my will and my fucking everything to not go back and put a bullet through his head. He dared to touch her. And the fact that it was the second time I saw him with her and she even lied to me. She fucking lied to me, to save the skin of another man. I hadn't validated my claim on her yet, but that didn't mean she could go around and bat her fucking lashes at some bastard.