Day Eighteen. Jack - 16:45

After Flyzik had left, I'd been spending an awful lot of time thinking about what he said regarding Alex. I knew that with someone like him I really shouldn't take a single word that let his lips in any way seriously at all, but they were words and words stuck, especially when they were words that you didn't want to hear.

The thing is, I kind of knew deep down that Alex wasn't really 'with it', and that my boyfriend was stuck somewhere deep within the clutches of insanity, but I really daren't admit it to myself and I had ended up burying it deep within layers of bullshit and dreams I'd really like to forget and holding it under the surface so it drowned there, and somehow Alex's insanity didn't seem real anymore.

But it was very real, so real in fact that all I needed to remember its entire existence was a few words pushing it back up to the surface by none other than Matt Flyzik. And now the thought, the concept - the reality was buzzing around my head like an agitated fruit fly, and I was rather overwhelmed when it came to the matter, because I knew that this wasn't easy at all and there certainly was no easy way out.

There was no doubt in the fact that Alex needed professional help, but there was also no doubt in the fact that bringing a serial killer into a hospital was most certainly a terrible idea, especially if you're a missing person... that really is a recipe for disaster, or more literally, arrest.

As you could have guessed, that's particularly not an idea I'm all that keen on, especially considering the co-dependent mess that my relationship with Alex has become. Though it may be a co-dependent mess, it's somehow all I could ever want, and as much as every one's screaming to look behind me, I've never turned back.

I did however need advice as my own brain was significantly lacklustre at the art of anything to do with emotions, which is indeed where I called upon and generally thanked the existence of Cassadee, because damn she was a fucking life saver.

I logged onto my email, and messaged her; we hadn't spoken since she sent me that one message I meant to reply to but never got round to two days ago. I hope she hadn't taken that personally, and I really doubt that she would have in the first place because she's Cassadee and she has a brain and somehow knows how to use it.

Hey Cassadee, I was wondering if I could ask your advice on something... it's uhh... kind of personal so yeah... uhh... I'd just like someone intelligent's opinion, you know? Thanks.

My message sounded rather stiff and awkward but I was far too preoccupied with the fact that Alex had insisted upon going out to work today even despite what happened yesterday. He was stupidly reckless and I'd even threatened calling Flyzik to talk some sense into him, but then Alex just gave me one of those looks that I haven't seen for a good two weeks now and that silenced me within seconds, which was kind of worrying when you thought about it...

I just hoped he came home, okay? And now I just sound like some worried housewife from World War II, which does bring quite an amusing if not awfully embarrassing mental image.

I was glad to hear a pop sound coming from my laptop to notify me of a new message from Cassadee.

Hey Jack:) Sure you can - I wouldn't call myself intelligent but I'm all ears.

I knew I could rely on Cassadee dear god, how could I ever manage my own life without her?

Jack: Well this guy I know he's kind of been weird lately like kind of scary. I'm worried about him despite the fact he says he's totally fine, and he clearly isn't. Two days ago he took some pills and passed out unconscious in our kitchen and I didn't even know until he came downstairs in the morning. And he says he hears like these voices... I don't want to think that he's insane or anything but I'm just really worried about him.

Cassadee: God, that's just oh my god, Jack. That's honest out of my depth like you should take him to see a doctor or a psychologist or someone- I don't know. Just make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt himself in the meantime.

Jack: Our friend suggested that. And he's really opposed to the idea I understand like he doesn't like hospitals and shit I don't know, and he's really kind of stubborn, so I'm kind of stuck here because he refuses to see anyone about this. I don't think he would hurt himself; he's very arrogant and self-righteous; I think it'd be other people if he were to hurt anyone.

Cassadee: Oh god that's a tricky situation. Is he far too stubborn to be convinced that it's for the best? If so there are always psych wards where they can keep him contained and looked after - they're not as scary as you might think. Make sure you don't get hurt then, if he ever threatens you or something you call the fucking police okay?

Jack: Okay. He's far too stubborn yes, but I'm not taking him to a fucking psych ward: a) I'd have to sedate him to get him there b) I don't agree with those things; locking you up and shaking the crazy out of you? Doesn't sound like it's going to work.

Cassadee: Everything works if you want it to, Jack.

Jack: He won't want it to - he doesn't. Even if he managed to accept that there's something wrong with his head, which he won't, he'll be far too stubborn to let me be right and resist all treatment because he's just a fucking asshole like that.

Cassadee: Sounds like a pretty shitty dude, no offense.

Jack: He's all I've got, and despite the insanity, he's a good guy. I promise.

Cassadee: Maybe you should broaden your selection of friends, and possibly do a little revaluation of your life. Huh? Maybe?

Jack: Maybe.

Maybe not. Because for once Cassadee just didn't get it and my stupid little head was finding that rather hard to adjust to, because I was nothing short of horribly and sickeningly co-dependent. I needed people to be alive and I didn't like that - I didn't like people, and for the first time I didn't think I liked Cassadee all that much anymore.

Maybe Alex was fine; maybe I was just overreacting, as usual.

-

Alex - 17:38

The feeling of murder is passion, hunger, and exhilaration - all at once. It's truly a beautiful thing despite its destructive stereotype.

Killing is a unique form of art because it's creative. It's kind of just like painting, except the brush isn't dipped in watercolour; it's dipped in human blood. There are 52 ways to murder anyone; one or two are the same, and they both work as well.

I want to see her dead; her corpse lying on the kitchen floor besides mine, the two of us sharing a pool of blood and maybe that'll be enough for her to satisfy her lust for me. Jack wouldn't be happy though, but Jack is never happy; Jack is human, Jack is a burden.

"Alex, can we talk?" Jack is here; Jack is watching me. I hate the feeling of his eyes upon me and that unspoken feeling on judgement that they brought with them.

I hated Jack sometimes, and this time was one of them, because the boy, he cared too much. He though too much about things that didn't need thinking about and he talked too much about things that didn't need talking about. He was all in excess, and too much of anything was bad for you - even I knew that.

Six had been my sweet spot, and only now had it become quite so apparent that seven was pushing it. Seven, in fact, had pushed it. Seven had pushed my luck entirely, leaving me in whatever mess I dared to call the present.

I suddenly felt very subconscious of the way I stood almost lifelessly in our kitchen; clutching a butter knife in my fingertips and twirling it around in a way that would be very concerning if the thing were capable of cutting something other than butter.

"Uhh... yeah... I guess." I sighed, putting the butter knife back on the side and turning to face him, watching his eyes flicker in the faulty kitchen light. I ought to get the light fixed, or maybe Jack to fix it - naked. I'd quite like that, if I was honest, but that was lust and lust is just another sin.

The angels warned me about sins, and how Jack and I were sinners. God doesn't like sinners, and they say he'll never let me into heaven like this; I'm just not sure I want to go to heaven, especially a heaven without Jack.

"Why were you holding that knife?" The words darted from his lips, a snare trap set by a poison spiked tongue, leaping and ready to pounce.

"Is that really all you came to talk to me about?" I eyed him suspiciously; trying my best to drive the subject of conversation away from anything at all compromising, except when you were in a situation like mine, the aforementioned was very much easier said than done. It didn't stop me trying though because I was nothing short of a determined little bastard and no one, not even Jack Barakat could put a stop to that.

"No-" I cut him off before he could continue, suspecting that the actual topic of conversation was much worse entirely. I was quite probably right.

"Then get onto what you're here for - I don't have time to waste, Jacky." I did indeed have time to waste, and it was time I wanted to waste with him, but not like this - I wanted to waste it with small talk and idle make out sessions, and not interrogation sessions the police would be jealous of.

"The knife... were you going to hurt- what- what were you going to do with it?" He finally stumbled out; his words nothing short of a hasty mess. He was obviously just a little overwhelmed by the image of my hand curled tightly around the domestic weapon; the thoughts that I'd killed six people seemed to have flooded back to him right in that very moment.

"I don't know - make a sandwich?" I shrugged it off as if it was nothing, despite the fact I'd rather throw a brick at my own face than take my chances eating anything made with the out of date bread that still lay on the side if my memory served me correctly.

"There's no bread-" He must have thrown the bread out, Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Well, I have no idea how to recover myself from this one, except making a mental note to forcefully remind Jack never to throw bread away ever again, despite even the foulest states of mould. Which, in the long run, was probably not the best of ideas at all, but it certainly would have helped my current situation.

"What?" I stammered another word out, simply buying myself more time in the most menial manner possible and it was really rather obvious that Jack had in fact seen straight through my facade, but really he was Jack and by now, he knew me far, far too well for anything to be quite as easy as I'd like it to be.

"We've ran out of bread." He clarified, watching me suspiciously through narrowed eyes, not one for bullshit, I presumed, raking my brains for something reminiscent of a vaguely believable excuse, and of course just t0 my luck, nothing at all came to mind, leaving me with a foul temper and harshly pushed out syllables, eventually constructing themselves into words of the least desirable variety.

"I'll just have fucking butter then." I snapped at him, my jaw flying open as I left to imagine the mess I'd made, but the problem was that once I started, the angles wouldn't let me stop, so then next few words came out and then the world was a tidal wave, and I wasn't surfing a top it. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I just wanted to see if you were alright." His voice finally crept out meek and mild, and most of all scared. I liked that; I liked the fear in his voice and how empowering it made me feel, but at the same time I hated it, I hated the fear in his voice and how it made my stomach churn and my heart hurt as I shifted my head into a mode that resembled something of a psychopath rather than a human.

"I'm fine." I spat out, not meeting his gaze, because deep down it still hurt to hurt him, and now I was hurting him because really, I was doing nothing other than lying and the two of us knew nothing more than that.

"You don't look fine." He persisted, because he was Jack and persisting was just what he did. He was a determined stubborn bastard too.

"You don't look annoying, but here you fucking are-"

"Alex-" My name simply pulled my emotions back in check, my eyes widened because the way he form the syllables and the way his mouth moved around the words was nothing short of beautiful to me. And I wanted to hear him say my name again, but he wouldn't, because he'd cracked through the facade now - now he'd really done it.

"What?" I snapped out, keeping the useless walls of a now useless facade for the sake of my stubborn mind.

"You're not fine because you overdosed. You overdosed, Alex." He continued, drilling the words into my skull as if I wasn't already very much aware of that fact.

"Yes I know, that was indeed my intention, believe it or not, kid."

"Don't call me kid." his response was instant, harsh and I think just maybe I did kind of deserve it.

"Why? Is that Matt's job?" My words came out just a little bit crueller than I intended, and now I couldn't quite stop myself from meeting him with big sad eyes and a sorry expression that sold my soul out.

"I like Jacky." He murmured out after a few moments.

"I like Jacky too." I inhaled far too much air at once. "I like you."

"I like you too."

And then, then we were kissing. And we weren't just kissing, we were kissing. As in, I had him pressed up against the counter, pushing my hips against his in a desperate attempt to create friction, some much needed friction in this empty little head of mine.

I wondered if sex would help; if sex would somehow fill in the blanks or at least occupy my mind with something else for a while... I just didn't count on the fact that Jack would be compliment. Maybe I'd have to settle for sucking him off - surely the angels would have little to say when his cock was pushed against the back of my throat- hmm... Maybe I'd have to find out.

I pulled away from him, releasing a gasp from his lips as he watched me grab him by the hips. "Lex, what are you doing?"

"I want to suck you off, Jacky." He met me with widened eyes and a held breath, uncertainty raging rampant in those brown eyes of his. "Can I?"

"Only sucking me off." He burnt through my skin with stern words. "Only."

It was most definitely better than nothing though, and this wasn't an opportunity that I'd be the type to pass up.

"I promise." And then before he could rush out any words of trust or something even more treacherous, I was on my knees and my hands were down at his hips, getting rid of the problem that was his jeans and just how tight they were against his legs and how that did me absolutely no favours whatsoever.

I pulled his jeans down to his knees before setting to work on those fucking boxer shorts of his, like fuck, seriously, why did he insist upon wearing underwear, or even clothes for that matter? Maybe I should insist he walks around naked? I doubt he'd like that, being so insecure with his body and whatever, but it'd certainly brighten my day.

"You're fucking hot." I breathed out, pulling his boxers down even with a lack of foreplay because I was fucking needy for this.

"So- so are you..." He breathed out as I grabbed him in one hand before pulling him between my lips and sucking on his head, making no excuses or anything of that matter because hollowing out my cheeks around him and fuck it was good.

Just to look up and see him writhing against the countertop in the pleasure I had crafted so lovingly for him was nothing short of an honour, because it was all to remember that he was mine - he was my Jacky.

The moans were just to seal the deal; the beautiful little gasps he let slide through his lips every so often were nothing short of heavenly gifts, except this was nothing to do with the angels, because somehow with Jacky in my mouth, I couldn't hear them at all.

And as he thrust into my mouth, his cock hitting the back of my throat, he released a tidal wave of come; salty and sticky slithering down the back of my throat for me to swallow without question. I didn't and of course wouldn't complain though, because it was beautiful, he was beautiful and it felt wonderful to have him mine forever.

I just didn't expect the feeling of when I came into my fucking boxers without any stimulation from him; just having him in my mouth was enough, and somehow that scared me because never had anyone meant to me as much as Jacky did now.

And thinking of it, I planned to kill him from the moment I met him, little did I know he'd end up slowly killing me.

The Sweet Asphyxiation And Dismemberment, Sex Puts Me In The Mood To Make You Die. Obsessive Hands Gently Grab Your Neck Look Into Sick Eyes

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