The Silence Of Metawin.

The Kids Aren't Alright

He intended to kill him. Really, he did.

He had just found himself getting a bit... distracted. He may have been an intelligent, psychopathic, cannibalistic serial killer whose cunning had allowed him to elude being caught for several years, but that didn't mean he wasn't entitled to acting like a child every now and again.

"I just don't understand why he's still with him if he's so unhappy." He took another bite of his shrimp cocktail, courtesy of Rachel, as he continued to clue her in on his long list of hardships. "He barely has a good word to spare about him, and yet." He allowed her to fill in the blank.

"Is it possible that you're just using him as a distraction?" Rachel sat in the chair opposite him with her wine. They had weekly conversations like these in her office, not unlike therapy sessions.

"A distraction?" He sipped a bit of the red wine, Chateau Lafite, that she had also provided for him. God, he loved her. "A distraction from what, pray tell."

"Isn't it obvious?" She sipped her respective wine. "You obviously have found a shiny new rock for your collection, and you're anxiously awaiting your turn to polish it." She paused. "I think the saddest part about it is that you don't even realize you're doing it." She chuckled. "You adorable little wolf."

In no mood to be mocked, he retorted "At least I have a pearl worth fussing over. You'd rather fill your voids with hyperactive pups who have little to no style."

"Are you referring to my assistants as newborn mutts?"

"If the shoe fits," he said as he took another sip, smirking.

Rachel glared at him, then sighed. "I'm guessing by the overwhelming amount of sass, you obviously know what you're doing and won't require my insight."

He didn't answer.

"I suppose that during the last forty minutes that you've spent whining, you actually had a plan the entire time. Surely." She sipped.

He sighed then said, "It simply comes down to the simple principle of 'If I can't have him, nobody can,' strictly speaking."

If at all possible, her gaze intensified. "And what do you plan to do about that?"

Silence. One that lasted too long.

"I'm going to eat him."

If there ever was a time that he felt the urge to completely crawl out of his skin, shrivel up, and die, right then and there would've been that time.

Sure, there had been other instances in which Win felt such complete and utter embarrassment that he was positive he wouldn't be able to physically, let alone mentally, handle it. Many instances in his life had made compelling cases that he would absolutely be crushed under the weight of the ridicule of others, or even that the momentum of the embarrassing moment in question would surely send him into a self pity induced coma.

None had proven successful so far.

Not even when his aunt Apasiri had visited him, insisting that she kissed every new person that she met on the cheek several times, and saw it appropriate to squeeze his cheeks, whether they be apart of his face or butt, when he talked to people.

Not even when he was dunked into the toilet at school, and with neither of his parents able to leave work, he was subsequently forced to endure eight more hours of smelling like the public bathroom, as students who already gave him a wide berth had all the more reason to. Teachers didn't dare look at him on those days because God forbid they feel guilty about not being able to help out a kid being bullied.