PSYCHOPATH

chapter 7: blood is thicker than water

Chapter 7: Blood is Thicker Than Water

~"Soon it seemed to me that what began as terror

and matured into moral narcissism might

have become in fact

actual human growth ."

~Louise Gluck, from 'The Empty Glass'

Will was by her side within seconds. Hands came around to lightly grasp her shoulders, to keep her centered, to keep her stable. Her body still continued to shake. For a few moments, Ella was inconsolable. Sobs wreaked havoc on her curled frame and she was certain some part inside of her was broken. How can someone come out sane after an incident like that?

And yet another part of her wanted to laugh. Laugh at how naïve she had been: to have prepared dinner with a smile, to have taken time to clean her house and wear makeup, and to actually be excited for something in her life when there was no room for it anymore. She was given her dose of reality once more.

After reeling in herself and her tears, Ella dragged her head up. She wiped the wetness off her cheeks with her sleeve. She brushed the hair out of her face, and remembering how the Code Killer had lightly played with her hair, she wanted to cut it all off with the kitchen's scissors. Will would probably think she had gone crazy and he wouldn't be wrong.

            Will was kneeling behind her with his hands gingerly clutching the tops of her shoulders. It was meant to be comforting. Ella felt nothing from the action. Instead, she felt an icy chill seep into her nerves. He wasn't there when she needed him. He was late.

            "Where were you?"

            A simple question but she said it with such a detachment the room seemed to fall ten degrees and the air grew silent with tension. She looked at him from over her shoulder, met his grey eyes, and watched him swallow. The stony glint in her expression definitely let him know that she was angry.

            It was the first time Ella had ever seen Will actually look...nervous. She didn't think it was possible. Most of the time he was a blank canvas with no true emotion reigning over his features. Unreadable. It was small, but she saw the tensions in his eyebrow, his jaw, the way his throat bobbed when she asked.

Nervous. He was nervous.

            Ella could have smiled because she was making the great William Morgan twitch. Instead, she was ready to strangle him because in turn, he was making her weak. She needed him and he was late.

            "There...there was another murder," he said softly, his hands dropping from her shoulder blades. The loss of contact made her mourn a little but she was too busy glaring at him to care. "I was called in for it."

            Will continued. "I didn't want to cancel on you. So I'm late."

            Frowning, her lips taut with tension and her brows scrunched together, Ella slowly pivoted around on her knees. Till she was facing him. They were both kneeling on her kitchen floor, so close to each other that she only had to tilt her face a little upwards and she would be kissing him.

            Smack. Will's face snapped to the side at the force of her slap.

            A violent red shade blossomed across his skin. It was a hard slap; she was pretty surprised by the force herself. Her arm shook after, her whole body was shaking. He couldn't have prevented what had just happened in her house. It was not his fault for having a demanding job. It was not his fault he was late at all. He didn't deserve her abuse; Ella knew that. But it felt good to blame him.