Mr.Brightside

I live in a wealthy neighborhood. You know the kind. Where waking up to birdsong in a red silk robe is a morning ritual. Where 3 story houses and a whale sized pool is for the poor. Yeah, those kind. Where all the neighbors are so stuck up and snobby. Where prissy ladies in pink stilettos with a yappy chihuahua at her side rule as queen. Yeah, that's the one. Nothing exciting beside the new Baby's-breath flowers next door. Finding new hobbies is pretty hard to come by here in the suburbs. Gifts are put to waste and talents stored away. Though I found my talent a long time ago. It's pretty easy if you use the right tactics. The right tools. The right plan. The right everything. A sharp something and a brain is all you need. You see, we all have hidden secrets, guilt and anger inside us. Though I like to call them gifts. A slip of the tongue can reveal a secret but it can also reveal a talent. Obsessions are Interests. Guilt is Pride. Ugly is Different. They are all the same. Some would call me insane. I call it genius.

• • •

As I wake up, the bright sun creeps through the closed blinds on the window across the room. The sugary smell of left over cologne mixed with sweat sweeps across the room but is overpowered by the stench of alcohol. Must've had a party again based on the pretty girl in bed next to me. Her hair is soft tangled into my fingers. Though I don't recognize her face through the hazy vision of my eyes, her body seems all too familiar. The curves on her hips still look as if they are swaying and the skin on her chest still seems as soft as ever. Ah yes, Abigail Turner. My girlfriend. I must've have gotten completely wasted if I can't recognize her of all people.

Quietly slipping my arm from under her neck, I side out of the silk cover and stumble down the hall. Though no one is still here besides Abigail and I, streamers still cover the hallways and broken beer bottles scatter around on the floor. I won't clean up now because I know it will get dirty again...later...today. It's funny. Messes made so easy are so hard to clean up, but are even easier to cover up. I chuckle to myself at the thought. It's a lovely thought. A happy thought. A welcoming thought. A thought I could think all day. A thought I don't want to forget. My, my what a glorious thought...

My thoughts are interrupted as I step on a large shard of glass, slowly it sinks in deeper almost to the bone. Though it hurts I do not yelp or scream as I know that my darling Abigail is sleeping in the room next to me and I could not forgive myself for waking her. I sharply yank it out with my index finger and thumb and hold the fragment close to my face. It's sharp point has jagged edges dripping with my own blood. I toss it in the kitchen drawer. Could be quite useful later. Yes...Useful indeed. I limp over to the couch, snatching up the remote to the television as I go. Just as sit down on the sofa, I realize that there is a gaping hole in the screen of the T.V. Well, no news the morning then. Lovely. I curse under my breath as I set the remote back down on the coffee table.

"Morning dear..." Abigail says from the door way, still in only a button up of mine. "Morning love" I smile back. "Television broken again?" she says, sitting on my lap to face me. "It would seem so." I reply kissing her forehead. "Dirty bugger." She mocks my accent and pecks at my jawline with her glossed lips. "Are you working today?" she asks, laying her head on my collarbone. "It's Thursday. So yes." I respond, stroking her head. She groans and slides off the couch and I chuckle. "I'll be back at eight dear..." I say, sitting on the floor next to her. "Noooooo...." she moans as she rests her head on my shoulder.

I quickly stand up and begin walking to the washroom in the basement. "Where are you going?" Abigail asks standing up. "Getting ready!" I yell before I close the door. I grab a pair of dress pants and slip them over my legs. The blood from my foot still trickles off of my heel and on to the floor so I wrap a long strip of cloth around my foot before I put on my shoes. As I begin to button up my shirt, I see a a drop of blood on my index finger. Wishing it were someone else's I wipe it off on my black pants. What a terrible thing. My own blood on my best pants. Could've made them better if it weren't mine. Best not to whine there shall be plenty more later.

After slipping in the rest of my my clothes I head for the door, keys in hand. "You forgetting something?" Abigail says leaning on the wall in the hallway just as I grab the doorknob. I turn round and she pecks me on the lips. "Is that really the best you can do?" I smirk at her and pull her into my arms, clashing my lips into hers. "I'm off dear" I say closing the door behind me, heading for the Lamborghini parked in the driveway. "I shall count the seconds..." I mutter under my breath.