Partner One closed the door to her Honda Civic, hearing the lock beep.

          She began making her way towards the local Starbucks, where she'd be meeting Partner Two, another strange, mysterious boy in her creative writing class. It was her second term at the local community college, excelling prior in term one philosophy, grading a high-ranked 92%. Partner One wasn't a big writer outside of academic assignments, but with time running last minute to select a term two course, she had figured it would be good to push her skills. Younger in her life, she'd often entertain scenarios of herself famous as a young child, so a little creativity was brewing behind her more academic-focused assets.

          Mr. Edwards, the creative writing professor, had assigned pairs to review each others' stories, then meet outside of class and give feedback. In fact, this particular assignment was worth 30% of their grade, so it was essential that she read Parter Two's stories in detail, to give him well-critiqued feedback. She went as far as taking detailed notes on her phone, tagging certain pages and quotations.

          After crossing the street and entering the coffee shop, she recognized Partner Two sitting in the corner on his laptop, wearing shades indoors to hide his stoic eyes. She found that rather odd, but always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt.

          "Hello," she said, approaching the table. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late."

          "Don't mention it," he replied in a monotone voice, a dramatic pause between the two. "How are you doing today?" His gaze remained on his laptop, the shades still upon his ominous eyes.

          "I'm okay." She took out her phone. "Do you usually come here?"

          "Sometimes. You wanna get anything?"

          "I might get a coffee later. I'm fine for now."

          "I see." His personality seemed so laid back and dull. It was clear he was a man of little words, although when reading his writings she'd been taken aback. He knew how to put characters together and create a compelling plot, but she did home some constructive criticism regarding the content.

          "Shall we begin?" He continued to gaze at his laptop, still refusing to take off the sunglasses.

          "Sure. I'm ready."

          "I didn't get to the final assignment yet, but managed to finish the first two."

          "That's okay. I didn't finish the third one either." She adjusted her chair. "Would you like to go first?"

          "Alright." He closed a document, then opened the set of notes he'd written for her stories. "First off, I think your characters are boring and your punctuation is barely beyond par."

          She sat there frozen.

          Wow, she thought to herself. He really doesn't hold back.

          He paused, before eventually replying, "However, you do have compelling arguments in your stories. You mentioned you took Philopshy first term right?"

          She nodded her head, a mental breath escaping that he had a somewhat personality.

          "I could tell. I thought in the second story you convinced me the protagonist's views and beliefs were justified by her sister leaving the family." He was referring to the farm story she had written for the second assignment. The story revolved around a single mother, Pamela, trying to regain hope after the end of World War 2, attempting to regain what remains of the farm. To which she falls in love with a longing soldier rescued from the village town, an old-school romance flick.

          "I also noticed that you could make your dialogue a little shorter," he continued. "I felt sometimes the MC would go on rants that weren't necessary, and don't take it personally, but some of the romance interactions were corny and made me cringe."

          She felt embarrassed by his direct feedback again.

          "But overall it has potential and I think Professor Edwards will approve of it. As for your second story, I thought the little twist at the end was cool, but could've been planned better. I wasn't convinced it flowed and made sense. I went back and even read it twice." This time he was referring to the story of the disabled boy who ran for class president.

          "I tried to make it seem as if they understood him," she replied. "Instead of making him out to be something he's not."

          "I see where you're coming from, but from my honest take, it didn't work for me. It felt more forced than anything, but I think it may work if you change up the wording. I felt this story was better overall, but still needs fine-tuning."

          She paused again. "Well, thank you for the honest feedback." She forced a smirk, feeling his tone had been a tad rude, but didn't let it ruin her day.

          "I guess it's your turn?" He just wouldn't take off the glasses, starting to give her a strange vibe.

          "Yeah. Sure." She pulled out the notes on her phone, but already had a summary of what she'd tell him. "I think you're stories have great detail. I was taken in by your vocabulary, and I thought the backstory you have on the characters was impressive."

          He nodded with that same blank expression.

          "I also like the way you don't tell. When I was reading the other students' work, a lot of them explained things that were already irrelevant. They could be repetitive, and I sometimes found myself losing connection with the characters and their roles. You, however, have a consistent writing style that doesn't do that. I also enjoyed your grammar, and I could tell you know what you're doing. Good job." She forced another smirk, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable, ready to let her other views be heard. "But I have to say, and you're a great writer, but the content was...dark."

          He seemed unphased by her words, now looking at his phone himself.

          "In fact, some of it made me a little...concerned about your mental health." She hated to sound rude herself, but had to give honest feedback.

          "Don't worry about me," he replied.

          "Well, don't you think Professor Edwards might think the same?"

          "I'm not too worried about it."

          "I see."

          There was another awkward pause.

          "I went and checked out your other writing as well," she confessed, trying to remove the tension. "Again, you are talented, but some of it was just too scary for me."

          "I've been a fan of horror movies since a kid," he replied.

          "I get that. But couldn't you maybe write something a little more...happy?"

          "I do have happy writing as well."

          "I know, but the majority, the brand you are selling, is dark and sometimes even intimidating. I'm just telling you this to give honest feedback like the assignment wrote."

          He remained unphased. "I don't know what to say."

          Again, it went silent.

          "So...what's the purpose behind all these writings? Is it a way to vent your frustrations?"

          "I don't know."

          "I am curious and want to know. We are assigned partners." However, the deeper she pushed, the more unsettled she became.

          He waited to reply, a chilling pause in between his words. "You really want to know?" His tone seemed unpleased now, as if not appreciating her prying into his life.

          She shuttered, the whole vibe of the conversations changing to an apprehensive confession. "Oh...okay."

          "Alright...I'll tell you," he confessed, finally taking off the shades that hid those eyes.

          And that's when it all made sense to her. Hitting her like a brick wall. The moment she looked into his eyes, all her questions were answered. Everything she wanted to know about the mysterious boy was confirmed right before her, the look on his expression eating into her soul, finally realizing her answer was there the whole time, as he gazed deep into her eyes.

          "Because I want you to feel this madness."