HOW TO RUIN YOUR LIFE (LGBTQ+)

21

Cleo was awake when I opened my eyes.

    I blinked slowly, sitting up, wincing at a headache that pounded through my brain. I'd probably caught whatever Cleo had. She was sitting up, looking at me with a grimace on her face.

    "I have to pee."

    Five minutes later, she was back in the basement, in her rightful place, with a fresh shit and piss bucket and a new jug of water.

    "You suck," she scowled. "I want meat for breakfast."

    I tossed her an apple and turned away, grinning a little as she muttered to herself. I closed the basement door behind me and locked it tightly, storing the key in its rightful place in the kitchen drawer.

    "Did you have a nightmare too?" she'd asked me, but I ignored her completely. She was used to me ignoring her at this point. She'd lived in my house for a month now.

    My heart sank as I realized - I'm attached to her.

    That was a huge, huge problem.

    My hands were shaking. I stared down at them, my eyebrows knit in confusion. No, I wasn't confused. My body was coiled with tension, like a metal spring that had been pushed down until it was compact. All I had to do was let go, and I'd explode.

    "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I hissed. My body felt like it was burning from the inside out, my brain ringing and my muscles bulging with tension. I walked outside quickly to my punching bag, not even picking up the boxing gloves as I started going crazy on it, slamming my fists into the bag, then my arms, and then my entire body, determined to unleash all of it. I'd been keeping myself caged up for so long.

    Unleash it.

    There's a demon in here.

    I want to come out.

    Let me out.

    Unleash me.

    I leaned my head back, letting out a low pitched screech, then I slammed into the punching bag again, and it tore from the hook, slamming down onto the grass, me on top of it. I rolled off of it, my body landing on the soft earth, and my fingers dug into the grass and dirt, uprooting the weeds, clenching my fists around them, clenching my teeth, clenching my body.

    "I can't do this anymore," I gasped.

    I sat up, staring up at the sky. I was an adult. I was aware of the rules in the world. I was aware of the law, of what was appropriate, and I was barely skating under the line as it was. Rough sex wasn't enough. Getting in fights wasn't enough. Beating up children wasn't enough.

    It wasn't enough.

    None of it...is enough.

    Nothing would come close to actually finishing the job, taking a life, draining the soul from a body, and watching it go.

    I craved it.

    I craved the feeling of power it brought.

    If I could just kill someone...I'd be satisfied for years.

    "I can't do this anymore," I repeated, staring blankly, not seeing anything in front of me, only hearing the voice in my head and seeing the memory of the shovel spraying blood and my brother's dead body lying cold on the earth.

    Max.

    Max can give me a job.

    Max can do it.