PSYCHOPATH

chapter 9: more of the same

                 

Chapter 9: More of the Same

~"I was beautiful without brutality.

I was beautiful without the steel and hiss of wanting."~

Emma Bolden, from 'House is an Enigma'

            At ten years of age, the neighbors' black cat rested on his back porch. He wondered if the thing knew that his face would be the last its' yellow eyes would see. He took a rock and smashed its tiny skull until he had made a red canvas of the wooden porch.

            When he told his mother of his art, she grinned and ruffled his hair. "That's lovely."

            She screamed when she saw the art and blamed it on their dog.

****

            Ella ended up at the Orange Lantern Bar.

            It was still before twelve. She never expected that she would already be two drinks in before lunch. It was way too early to be consuming alcohol and it was not the best idea to drink when she had serial killer stalkers, especially when the last time she went drinking ended so well. Ella couldn't find it in herself to care.

Her decision-making was sloppy as of late. She knew that.

Paranoia. Lack of self-confidence. Second guessing herself. Anxiety. Ella felt it all at one point or another. Ella hadn't attended her classes in a while, missing one at that very moment, not that it would affect her grades (since her work with the Code Killer case kept her professors off her back.) Not to mention, Ella was slowly ruining all her relationships because of irrational suspicions. Kat. Asher. They probably thought she was insane. Now it was Will's turn to think she had a loose screw in her head.

She was losing herself and she didn't know how to keep it together any longer.

So there she was wallowing with her face inside empty glasses. The bartender didn't seem to mind; he didn't pry, simply slid over the drinks one after the other, appreciating having a customer despite it being so early. It was empty in the bar. Faint music playing on the speakers, soft murmurs coming from some people eating in the booths, most of the noise came from workers preparing for that night's bar band.

            Ella was tipsy when she got the call.

            "Good morning Agent Grant." James Grey's accented voice came through the phone loud and clear. Ella resisted the urge to groan, knowing he would hear it. His call only meant one thing to her...another murder. "You weren't in your class this morning when I sent someone to get you, so here I am calling you wherever you. There was another body found this morning. Fill you in when you get here, maybe you can make some sense of it."

            "Agent Morgan couldn't figure it out?" Ella blurted, wondering why in the hell he kept calling her in when she didn't offer suggestions he liked hearing. He would just ignore her for Will's opinion like always. She blamed the alcohol for making her bolder. "Why do you need me when you don't like anything I say?'

            She heard a heavy sigh then, "Ella-," she hated when he became unprofessional like that, "-we need you here, trust me. Will says you need to be here. Come in now."

            He hung up shortly after, not leaving any room for her to argue. Ella gritted her teeth. Fucking great. Of course, only invited when Will told him to invite her. Will felt more like the director. She wished she never took the case, never took the job, hell- never entered the academy.