Diary of a Sociopath

Chapter 20- The Hunger

It has been four months since my last entry-but for good reason. I write now with a heavy weight upon my heart. Not only did I lose my child, but also Ava-both in different ways-but they are both gone. It began when I went to Ava about Victor's extracurricular interests. At first, she was in shock-and then began getting angry at me. This was the night we lost the baby. She has blamed it on me ever since. Anytime I try to get close, I am reminded of that night by her screams-but I never stop trying. I have done everything from flowers to an 80s serenade-but nothing has worked. I now live in a shabby apartment on the other side of town near the water. For three months, I spend all my free time looking out into the water, imagining drowning. The feeling of not being able to breathe along with the feeling of complete release before the water controls and takes over the path of oxygen and you are left as a carcass. It had also been months since my last kill. And even the kill was not one satisfactory to my craving.

But I knew how Ava would respond if she knew this. If she knew these thoughts and if I gave into these actions and so I walked the streets near the water, before deciding to go to Ava. I walked all the way across town, arriving late enough at night to see the end of the nightly routine. I saw her walking back and forth as I stood right before her house, staring into the windows-not caring who would see me. For the first time in months, she appeared happy-free even. Her face was no longer sickly pale and her crimson locks were now a chestnut brown-making her look older and more mature. She even gained a few pounds-making her look voluptuous and healthy-not so 90s druggie.

But then I saw him. Victor. He had a pile of dishes in his hands as he moved around the house quickly, picking stuff up until he placed his hands on her waist. I could feel the rage build inside of me but all I could do was clench my fists. My gaze caught a small kiss exchanged before I could no longer watch. I turned from the scene before hearing the door open-but I kept walking.

"Lincoln!" I only stopped when I heard it was her voice-in desperation. I turned to see tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to fight for you...to show that I am not giving up on you...or us..."

"What do you want me to say? There's too much pain...I lost too much-" And even though I regret it now, at the time, I could not hold it back.

"Do you think you are the only one who lost someone? I lost hope, the faith that you gave me! The promise of love you told me, only to run when it got tough! And now you are dating the very same person who broke us up!"

"He didn't! I can't trust YOU!"

I froze, unable to believe it.

"Then why did you come out here? Why did you follow me?"

"To ask you to stop coming around." It felt like a shot to the heart. I could feel my anger boil to the point of overload. For the first time, I then imagined her being a victim. But just as easily as the thought began, it ended with the thoughts of her and I in compromising positions.

"After everything we've been through, and you believe someone over me just because they have a badge. Ask him about Clara...see what he tells you and THEN you tell me who you trust..." I turned on my heels before disappearing in the dark and back to my apartment. It had been a blackout the rest of that night, but upon awaking, I saw the aftermath of my rage. The walls had deep holes in them along with broken plates and a smashed television. There was nothing but debris and ripped paper or broken glass. And as I stood in the center of the room, I realized I was standing in my heart; a representation of it anyway...all jumbled and broken.

Another month past before I couldn't bare it any longer. I had to give in. I had to take another victim....