been reading books about deviant behaviour and thoughts. The thing is, those theories don’t really apply to me.
I’ve never looked at a kitten or a puppy and decided I wanted to hurt it or felt the urge to. If anything, I think people who have such thoughts are cowards. They want to do greater damage, but they latch onto creatures way weaker than themselves who can’t do anything to stop them. Those people are pathetic, and I’ll never belong in the same bracket as them.
That leaves me with little to no choices as to where I should be put. Do I have anti-social behaviour? Do I want to hurt people?
The answer to the latter is no. I don’t care about people enough to want to hurt them.
Besides, I love my mum. In my own way. She’s the reason I still believe there could be something else for me.
Chaos is still one of my secret tendencies, though.
Whenever I find the opportunity to bring it back to the world, I do. Since we play football, I usually get that chance by instigating a small fight here, a rivalry there. It brings flavour to the other players’ boring lives, so they should thank me for it.
If chaos is the only thing that makes sense, what does that make me?
Chaotic?
I don’t think so. I enjoy watching chaos from afar, but I dislike being in the middle of it.
There is unwanted chaos in my life — the type I can’t seem to control no matter how much I try.
Like the fucking scene in front of me.
We’re at the Meet Up, watching a football game between Arsenal and Tottenham. Everyone here cheers for the former. I do, too, but only so everyone thinks I actually give a fuck. I don’t.
Ronan and Xander are making a ruckus, kicking and screaming as if they’re the ones playing. Captain, Levi King, shushes them so he can hear the commentator.
Unlike his cousin, the current captain of Elites — Royal Elite School’s football team — is more open, but still a control freak like everyone in the King household. They could use personal psychoanalysing from Freud himself — if he were still alive, that is.
Aiden is sitting across from me with Silver by his side as he places a hand around her shoulder. They keep whispering things to each other before she laughs discreetly and he smirks with mischief like the bastard he is.
She doesn’t give a fuck about football. At all. And yet, she makes it her mission to watch it and put on a show with Aiden.
And I know it’s a show, because on normal days, they can’t stand each other. They only pull this shit in front of me. I know it’s a game.
Her way of revenge.
His way of being a dick.
Despite knowing all that, I can’t purge it out of my head. I don’t watch them, not when they can sense me, but I see them all the time. I fucking hear them, even if the TV’s sound is loud.
This is the unwanted chaos I don’t understand. If I know it’s fake, why the fuck am I so hung up on it?
Why do I want to stand, punch Aiden in the face, and devour her lips in front of him so he knows who the fuck she belongs to?
Perhaps this is what it feels to be the victim of chaos. That chaos is Silver.
Not Aiden. It’s all on her.
Since our parents started officially going out together and she decided Aiden, the fucker, deserved her virginity and the title of her fiancé, I’ve turned her life into hell.
There isn’t a field I haven’t made her lose in. I used to at least leave piano alone, because she’d have this proud expression when she won, and she’d take a picture with both her parents and post it on social media with the happiest caption.
But she killed that part of me, so now, I win everything. And I mean every-fucking-thing. Down to the simple credit homework.
I don’t only win, I crush her. I don’t only push her to be Miss Number Two, but I also win with a large gap that makes her doubt everything.
Soon after, she gives me that glare, tells me she hates me, and then goes to the park to eat a small Snickers bar and cry on her own.
While she does so, she usually curses me aloud like a madwoman speaking to herself. I watch every moment until she goes back home, smiling and hugging Sebastian