Alex. Day Twenty Three - 3:46

"Disgusting." The word left my lips for what felt like the thousandth time tonight, but with a mind as intoxicated as mine, it was particularly difficult to keep count.

"Disgusting!" There it came again, but this time with more force, more venom, more meaning; the power behind the word seemed to increase with every occasion in which it left my lips.

"Disgusting." The third time within this minute seemed like just enough, and the look on little precious Jacky's face was enough to sell me right into satisfaction, even if it was nothing but false: the world is made of fakery alone, so any change in that matter, would be nothing short of alarming.

It was the only word on my lips; the only word that could truly harness the betrayal I felt towards Jack - the way he'd screwed this all up, letting Cassadee go despite my explicit instructions not to. He'd been disobedient, and the truth lay in nothing other than the fact that I really would just have to put a stop to that.

Disobedience did warrant punishment; that just came naturally - an unspoken rule of humanity, or at least in my mind it was so. And he'd committed the felony against me, so therefore my opinion was the one to matter, and of course it wasn't like there was anyone else around here to offer their opinion any more.

Maybe if number seven were still around, I would have allowed her to offer her input, and we'd see where we could go from there, but Jack had been arrogant enough to make a stupid decision and ensure that Casssadee was no more. In fact, if she was still around, you know what, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place, so honestly, he's nothing but to blame for his own actions.

The boy's what? In his twenties by now? I presume so anyway, maybe I should force myself into feeling just a little bit more guilty towards my apparent inability to show any compassion whatsoever, but really guilt leads you down a long hard road into compassion and all kinds of equally worthless emotions, that all in all, are really not efficient in the slightest.

My apathy is an advantage. Apathy, of course, is always advantageous. Perhaps that's why it's socially outlawed; leaving the secret of success to the one's who can break out of the confines of a strict society and earn it - people like me.

Even God's on my side; he has his angels lined up for my protection and if I would ever need a sign that this is the right path, this is really all I need.

If the highest being in reality is on my side, then I'm in the power, I'm in the advantageous, the apathy, and I have the edge. This is right, and none of Jack's little human pleads otherwise can shake me.

Love is also unnecessary, especially what little I feel towards Jack - in fact, that's just pathetic, and really entirely his own concoction. I was just being civil to him, and therefore, he does in fact owe me. He owes me big time, and of course as the greedy, selfish little human he is, I return home - tired, intoxicated, and in state dependant of his care and what do I find?

I find him shaking; in the hallway shaking, and I almost tripped over him, and I almost felt bad, but in fact now, maybe now I wish I did; I wish I'd taught the brat a goddamn lesson, maybe I never should have let him freely around the house.

My trust is of course, again, wasted.

And the words that leave his lips as I meet his pathetically shaking figure are few in quantity but huge in meaning and that's enough to topple my whole mentality over for a few moments.

"I let her go."

He didn't even meet my eyes and explanation was simply unnecessary, because there was only one female for Jack now - number seven.

He seemed to like her far too much in my opinion. Perhaps it was jealous, but I figured on his part it was exploitation and I decided that maybe that was the greater sin here, and God was yet to correct me.

At least now she's gone, distraction isn't an issue, and his attention and loyalties are all focused upon me, but there is of course the issue of number seven.

Because with the absence of Cassadee, the absence of the need for a seventh doesn't follow.

I need a seventh, and perhaps after all of this mess, I'll listen to Jack's whimperings, even if they are reminiscent of a madman, and maybe I'll let him be number seven, but I am still horribly attached to the boy; physically as opposed to emotionally, of course.

I need him there to clean up my messes, not hug me and whisper nothingness into my ears after they've happened.

He's both in service and debt to me from now on, because no one's going to die today, or for even the next few days.

Jack though, is on probation, because I'm indecisive; half of me wants to take my pistol and let the loaded bullet pierce his heart and corrupt his bloodstream; the metallic taste of both blood and gun metal in his mouth being the last thing he'll experience before he's rendered nothing more than a memory.

The other half wants to wait. The other half is right, because the other half values patience and the rewards that come from it.

The other half wants to watch as he melts down into this state of shock, simply because it's entertaining, and boy, life has gotten significantly placid ever since Jack has managed to find himself securely living here, and I want that to change.

I want excitement.

I want to be entertained.

And honestly, Jack is the best boy for the job, so even if he is disgusting, maybe he'll have the chance to prove to me otherwise. But he'll never know that despite the little game I've entered him in, there's always a set ending.

This will always end the way I want - one way - something he'll never know. And that just adds more thrill to the already enthralling situation.

But I think the more important thing for him to never know is the fact that like him, I'm still unsure as to what this ending is, because deep down my heart's still clinging onto him; screaming his name like a broken record, and it hurts like hell, because he's clouding my mind, and that's somehow tricked it into thinking I need him, but really there's nothing physically addictive about Jack at all.

Emotional addiction, however, is another matter entirely.

Serving only to back up my point that apathy is the only way I'll make it out of this hell alive, and into God's kingdom of heaven, where the angels sing truths and justice is of the highest policy. A kingdom free of temptation and sin; a kingdom where people like Jack Barakat- temptations like Jack Barakat are not welcome.

And addiction in heaven is irrelevant, because God, he has the power to cleanse you of sins and impurities, but a martyr is of course a messy job, but the one that's right for me.

Jack Barakat is irrelevant.

And maybe if I say it to myself enough I might just believe it.

-

Jack - 4:01

"Disgusting." The word drilled itself into my ears for the third time; Alex essentially not seeing that maybe by the wreck I was, sat here moping around on his hallway floor that I had just about managed to accept that by now.

He'd made me a wreck for a simple purpose of acceptance towards my utter incompetence, and my stubborn tendencies. I could never just listen, could I? I could never quite just manage to keep my own thoughts to myself and get on with my own life; I just had to have an opinion, and I just had to be vocal about it.

I thought Alex of all people would have been the one to drill that lesson into my head, but it seemed otherwise. It was now apparent that not even Alex Gaskarth could set straight this uncalled for attitude of mine and I think that really constituted as hopelessness.

"I know." I croaked out, burying my face between my legs as the words unintentionally slipped from my lips; the lines of the real conversation and how it was going in my head blurring just a little too much.

Maybe it was just serving me right; karma coming up and biting my ass for being sad enough to run the perfect version of this conversation through my head, but maybe that sad little perfect conversation was the only thing keeping me sane these days, and so perhaps, maybe I needed that sad little perfect conversation an awful lot more than you'd reckon.

"Excuse me, you pathetic little-" I looked up, meeting his brown eyes and the way the fury almost seemed to turn them red, astonishing me within an instant. It was both unnerving and beautiful; an unorthodox concoction, yet one that perfectly fitted Alex like no other.

Alex was typically just very unorthodox in general, as was our relationship: who else knows their boyfriend is a serial killer and is still sadly very much in love with them?

Or maybe I'm just exceptionally pathetic and perhaps that why I'm still alive, but at least I'll look at the positives here - I'm exceptional, at the very least, and also, also I'm still alive, even if in my current situation that doesn't seem very permanent at all, it counts for something at the very least, I guess.

"You've stopped." My voice croaked out into the silence, my bravery increasing with every word with what could simply be described as utter foolishness. "You've stopped talking. You didn't finish your sentence- why didn't you finish your sentence?"

My voice came out as nothing more than a shaky stutter but it still managed to get the words out, even if it did give Alex the terrifying pleasure of seeing me undeniably scared of him, at least in my head I was being brave, because I was tired of his shit and I, Jack Barakat, was taking a stand, even if it didn't turn out to be a particularly permanent one, it was a stand nonetheless.

"Guess why, you disgusting little back-stabbing whore?" He snarled at me as he now proceeded in circling me in a manner uncomfortably reminiscent of a vulture. His eyes grew darker, the pupils swelling up balloons, except there was an utter lack of oxygen amidst the unnerving almost blackened orbs I had found myself confronted with, as I felt the utter inability to breath, the swollen pupils increasing to suck all the air from my lungs and keep it hostage there until I choked.

"Because maybe in that disgustingly sad existence of yours, you have a shred of empathy?" I chose to start with the impossible, because then I wouldn't be disappointed to be wrong, and in the one in a million chance, I'd be overjoyed to be write, but I was a realist and I knew that Alex Gaskarth and dear old empathy were simply not at all acquainted.

As expected he shook his head in what I recognised to be an almost mocking manner. "Empathy is irrelevant to someone like me. Empathy is inefficient and fucks you up in both the long and short term."

"You're just a sick fuck." I spat at him, turning a blind eye to consequence entirely, knowing that I was already more than screwed here. Alex was going to do something to me, and it would be his decision entirely - literally nothing I could ever say would influence that decision in the slightest, if he would even allow me to live, let alone speak any more after this.

I'd gone too far - that was certain, but did I have any regret towards my actions, that was entirely uncertain. I shouldn't regret anything when I wasn't in the wrong, or at least that's what the arrogant side of my head argued, and maybe now I can see Alex's point a little better.

Arrogance is useless and tiresomely unnecessary, yet somehow staple in our unsurprisingly monotone lives.

I'm pretty sure I hate that, and I'm pretty sure it's simply because arrogance alone has initiated this disagreement between Alex and I. To think that a mere display of control, arrogance, and that hero complex of mine would cost me my boyfriend and quite possibly my life too.

"That is a harsh way to put it." He rolled the word off the tip of his tongue with a simple smirk, knowing that he was the one in power here and of course, loving it within its entirety. Alex Gaskarth liked to play games, and he just loved it when the counters he used were people's lives and when the dice involved always fell in his favour.

"You've been disobedient, you know, rebelling against explicit orders doesn't put anything in your favour, Jacky." He lowered his tone to a whisper, stepping closer to me once again. "I thought you would have figured that out by now, wouldn't you?"

And in that moment all the memories came back in the same second, leaving me on overdrive with the horror flooding to my head as I relieved every godforsaken moment I had tucked away in my head, banishing them all to the depths of nothingness, but now as they were brought forward, they didn't seem quite so distant any more, and in turn, far, far too real for my stomach not to initiate a complicated routine of seventy somersaults in succession, leaving me nothing but absolutely sickeningly anxious.

And I wanted to be fucking sick because I knew what was going to happen next - I knew what had happened twice before, and would now occur a third. And I knew that twice was definitely not accidental, so what did that make three times? Undeniably purposeful? Perhaps.

"You're not going to kill me." My voice came out in a pathetic stammer, harnessing a grin from Alex as he basked in my inadequacy, and of course the anxiety ridden hopelessness that was stupidly close to follow.

"What makes you so sure?" He countered me unexpectedly, causing my stomach to take a plunge deep into the depths of utter nothingness, and maybe that was better - feeling absolutely nothing at all, but that did give way to the sickening feeling that was slowly taking over my body in pursuit for my demise.

"That's what I want." I managed to push my words out, knowing that he was playing me right into his hand but following then poisoned bread crumb trail regardless, perhaps I was ignorant, perhaps I was plain stupid, or perhaps I had just given up, and perhaps that was for the best, seeing as I had no hope of getting anything but an increased punishment out of this at all. "You never let me have what I want." Yet, I continued.

"Greed is unnecessary." He met my gaze with a smirk, clearly proud of himself as to just how easily I'd played into that little trap of his. "All my efforts were in your assistance and that alone."

"That's bullshit and you know that!" I spat at him, engulfing myself within the very greed he strived to guide me away from, simply perhaps for spite itself, because maybe that was a beautiful thing when painted in the light of rebellion.

"You're fucking selfish - all, you want is within your own favour and in fact the very reason that I'm still breathing is that you were fucking stupid enough to get attached to me and now you want me around as you play thing, and you know what? I hate that. I hate you."

And even more so, I hated how my words didn't seem to affect him within the slightest.

I hated how he'd built himself up like this, and now he was barely human, barely Alex any more. He was just a killer, and he preferred it that way, but I really didn't.

"Hate is a strong word, Jacky." He whispered, pulling me up and pressing me against the wall, his eyes meeting mine with bare millimetres between the brown irises of a sickeningly similar shade.

"I know." I thought back with similar verbal force, having absolutely nothing to lose by now - I was already fucked beyond belief. "That's precisely as to why I chose it."

"You don't seem to understand that I'm your master, Jacky. I'm in control." He pushed my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze as he sent me thousands upon thousands of what I would assume to be intimidating glances.

"You're neither of those things. We're both fucking human beings, Alex." I tried for what I assumed to be the final time by the irrational, hateful glare in his eyes as they caught the light.

He chuckled at that one, the whole idea seeming nothing short of utterly preposterous in his mind. "That's precisely where you're wrong."

"Yeah, you're not human at all - you're a fucking monster."

"Again a harsh way to put it, now come on, Jacky. I know you love me really." He cooed, his fingers traversing the contours of my cheekbones in a way that would be almost endearing if I didn't quite hate him so much. Hate is possibly the strongest emotion of all, love coming a close second, of course.

"Because you love to fucking exploit it, don't you?" I snapped, by now utterly tired of every last little bit of bullshit he threw in my direction in what was a painstakingly casual manner.

"Exploitation is only that if you let it be." He continued, his face laden with a perfect smirk.

"You want me to consent to my demise."

"If it makes you feel better then yes-" He pulled the words through his voice like the whole matter was a mere inconvenience to him.

"I don't consent though. I'm not consensual."

"Always the dramatic little whore weren't you?" He pushed a finger to my lips. "But with whores consent is unnecessary - it's your job, so close your mouth, Jacky. If I was you I'd save it for later... I'm not stopping until I'm satisfied, Jacky." I glanced towards the door, the door he'd forgotten to lock and the door I could have hopes of escaping from.

The idea made me sick to the stomach because now I was left with a Decision.

"Come on now, Jacky." He purred, curling his finger at me.

The decision to which the answer seemed obvious and perhaps would have even been easy if I wasn't so fucking in love with the psychopath in front of me.

And perhaps when it came to emotions, Alex was right.

I drowned out all my sense with the sound of its beating and that's what you get when you let your heart win.

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