ANGELS || jb, au

three

"The difference between a psychopath and a sociopath is simple." The professor at the front of the room droned on. His voice was so monotonous it made me want to fall asleep three-quarters of the time.

Psychology was not a class I needed to take. If there was one thing I knew everything about, it was the mind of a human. Disgusting creatures. Too bad I was so similar to them, then, after the fall.

I shifted in my seat a bit, thinking back to that awful experience two or so years ago.

The professor continued. "Sociopaths have a choice. Psychopaths don't."

My jaw clenched as my mind started to run wild. I realized I knew several sociopathic assholes. Or just one. A very certain one.

"Your midterm is in two weeks!" The professor tried to shout over the clamor of everyone packing up their shit.

I was out of there as fast as I could throw my backpack over my shoulder, my jacket keeping me warm as I stepped outside of the lecture building and walked across the campus. Tree branches hung over every walkway on campus, despite it being in the middle of a major city.

There were no leaves on the trees, making me feel like I was walking through a forest of bones.

I passed by the student center, where a lot of people were gathered inside to eat at the cafeteria. It was dining hours, and I could see almost every table packed full of people. They had trays full of food in front of them. They were surrounded by their friends.

My eyes met with a few of the students sitting in there. There were a few people who just stared. A few people looked away after just a few seconds of eye contact. None of them wanted to look at me for longer than they had to.

I was well known around the campus. I was known for being unknown.

Friends weren't my thing, and I often avoided social events. Whenever people saw me they just gave me this weird look, like I didn't belong.

I left the gates of campus behind soon enough, traveling among the familiar concrete city streets.

Finally I rounded a corner, faced with a heavy metal door painted black. I pounded my fist against it twice, stepping back and looking down the small street around me. "It's cold as balls out here!" I shouted, hauling my fist against the door again.

It swung open, revealing a heavily tattooed man. He held a brown paper bag out to me, laughing. "You'd be even more upset if I forgot your fortune cookie, Bieber."

I shoved some bills into his hand, a small smirk hanging on my lips. "You know me too well, Josh."

Josh owned an Asian take out restaurant. Every week, at least three days out of the week, I would call Josh and place an order for pickup. I loved his food, and taking it home with me to enjoy in solitude was a favorite pastime.

As I looked up at him, something flashed across his face. Just for a second, but it was enough for me to notice. He didn't let me think about it for long.

"You should go now. The food is gonna get cold." He sounded almost sad, which was unusual.

"Alright, don't go all pansy on me now. I know you'll miss me for the whole two days I don't come around." I smiled, turning and walking back out to the main street towards my apartment.

I didn't hear Josh when he whispered, "I will miss you."

---

I dropped the containers from the rice and egg rolls I had just enjoyed into the trash, leaning back against the counter and glancing over the island in my kitchen at the TV. The nightly news was playing.

I wasn't really paying attention. I was too focused on trying to open my fortune cookie.

"Damnit!" I let out a large groan as the cookie itself snapped into pieces, landing all over the ground at my feet and leaving nothing but a mess.

I grabbed a paper towel to help me pick it up, slowly bending down and grabbing the white slip of paper that held my fortune.

'I'm surprised you didn't see this one coming.'

I muttered under my breath as I read the slip, shaking my head. Another crap fortune.

The noise of the TV quickly filled my focus again as I heard the breaking news signal.

"29 year old Josh Mason has been found brutally murdered outside of his Asian restaurant on the west side of town." The news report blared, showing a picture of the scene. I grabbed the counter in front of me, everything in my body frozen.

The tiny slip of paper that held my fortune fell to the counter in front of me, and as I looked down to try and find some way to breathe, my throat felt like it was closing entirely.

On the flip side of the paper, was my lucky number. Every fortune had a number or set of numbers that were supposed to be lucky.

My vision was blurry and my heart was stopped in my chest, but I could still make out the red letters and numbers on the page.

"Your lucky number: 666"

-----

Oh shit guys