a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, dear. No, Vanessa. I don’t want your fucking money. I want your pain,” I growl, my nails digging into her skin. She tries to move, but I won’t let her. I want her to feel my wrath. “The same pain you caused me.”
“Because you went to jail?”
“Among other things, but mostly the fact that you fucking screw me over every goddamn time.”
I let go of her shoulder because I’m having a difficult time controlling myself, and I don’t want this to end just yet. I want to hurt her slowly, painfully, to the point of her breaking apart in front of me.
“Screw that; you did that all by yourself,” she says. “You made yourself the bad guy.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong.” I walk to her front and go to my knees. I watch her lips as she searches for me in the room, almost going insane when she doesn’t know where I am. I place my hand on her knee, which makes her push her legs together to avoid me touching her in certain places … I’ll make sure to thoroughly touch her there later.
“I am not the bad guy here, but I know you want to tell yourself that. You seem to forget about the fact that you framed me, multiple times. In your warped and twisted mind, I must have deserved that, but let me tell you that now … you aren’t going to get away with this. I know that’s a first for you, but retribution has to start somewhere.” I tap my knife on her leg, and each time I do, she jumps a little in her seat. I love it.
“No matter how much you pretend that you’re an angel, I’ll make you show your true self. You just wait and see, Princess. You just wait and see.”
And then I get up and walk out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Her screaming is like music to my ears.
I don’t respond. I just love to hear her lose her shit. After all these years of bottling that shit up, it’s finally coming out. So nice. It’s like putting an old vinyl record on a gramophone and discovering it sounds exactly as it did in the old days …
Oh well, time to go buy some nice things I can use on her. First thing’s first, I want her to feel what it’s like to be trapped in a tiny space with no way out … and I know exactly how to get it.
CHAPTER 7
PHOENIX
Age 11
I’ve always had a fascination with death, but when Vanessa showed me what life can do, I realized there are more ways to have fun than just hurting everything that crosses my path.
I admit, I’m sick, but it’s not my fault. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t want to cause animals or people pain. It’s my way to feel powerful. To matter in this world and to be able to change something.
I couldn’t change the way they treated me back in the orphanage or the way my parents left me there, but I could change how people treated me now. They fear me because of what I do. Maybe it’s better that way. At least they won’t come close enough to ever hurt me again.
Except her … Vanessa … I still don’t understand why she likes me, but it makes me feel good inside, so I won’t complain. Especially not when she talks to me and shows me there are different things I can do, like keeping that bug in a jar.
I turn my head and gaze at the butterfly fluttering around in the jar that’s sitting on my makeshift desk. Looking at it reminds me of her. It has the same pinkish red glow that she has—like a fairy, only better. A princess, almost. Princess of the bugs.
Smiling, I turn the jar, grab a permanent marker, and write ‘Princess’ on the side.
Much better than Miles the Second.
Then I turn around and look through my binoculars at her house like I do every other day when I’m in my treehouse. She has a few books stacked on top of her head, and her mother is pointing in a direction to which she has to walk. She’s learning how to walk with her back straight, I guess. But then she drops the books, and from the looks of it, her mother is pissed off. Her mother’s lips part and she frowns. I can hear her scream