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And now, I’m hard.
Fuck. When did I start to have such little control over my libido?
The answer is obviously three days ago.
Three fucking days since my visit to the cliff where I thought I could find some answers.
I found something much better.
The answer behind the answer.
Glyndon King.
I throw the ghost girl away, stub the cigarette on her Gucci bag, and stand.
Jeremy stares up at me. “Aren’t you going to stay around and plan the last details of the next initiation?”
“You do it this time.”
“Killer, you fake strategist!” Nikolai points a finger at me, giving zero fucks about the girl who’s orgasming in his arms. “Didn’t you say no one can top you, because your plans are the best?”
“They are.”
“Then give us one.”
“Jeremy already knows all about it, and I’m not interested in repeating myself. Call me when the actual fun happens.”
“You’re really leaving, Satan’s heir? The fun is just starting.”
“Some of us actually study, Niko. Med student, remember?”
“Bullshit. You’re a genius.”
“Still need to put in some effort.” Not really, but it makes society feel better to know everyone is human and suffers just like them.
I slap Gareth on the shoulder. “Stay boring, big bro.”
He flips me off and I smile as I slip out of the main party and head downstairs. The basement is soundproofed, so all the music and fuckery eventually disappears as I lock the door behind me.
The red room comes into focus and I stand at the entrance, staring at the attempts at masterpieces I’ve tried over the years.
My first picture of those mice was taken with a Polaroid camera. I had to commemorate the moment of seeing into a living being’s insides.
My second was Gareth when he hit his knee, bled all over the garden, and tried so hard not to cry.
The third was Gareth being attacked by a dog. Ever since then, he’s never really gone near one again. If he rationalized the fact that the dog who bit him was sick and probably rabid, he wouldn’t have to be so wary of them anymore. But I learned early on that other people’s responses to threatening, dangerous situations are vastly different from mine.
Where I stay collected, they panic.
Where I search for a solution, they let fear overwhelm them.
Over the years, I’ve taken a lot of pictures. Some are gory. Others, not so much. But they usually highlight some form of suffering.
Some form of…human weakness.
At first, I took them to understand how their reactions to certain situations differ from mine. Then I enjoyed the knowledge that I hold a part of them no one has access to.
Not even them.
