Scream

Enzo King

I called Reyna for advice on what to wear. I'm a simple psychopath with simple needs, but I'm also a psychopath who wants to look fresh. She helped me decide on a plain white shirt because it makes me "look tanner than usual," shorts because "it's hot and you never wear anything besides jeans," and shoes that I can run in "because well, you know..."

So I'm wearing just that; a white V-neck, tan shorts, and boat shoes.

"Dude, boat shoes? What are you, in a frat now?" Makai upbraids.

"What else is there to wear?"

"Um, something that matches and makes sense, you idiot. Wear your white Vans, duh."

I nod. They do make more sense than the boat shoes. "But what if I stain them with blood? You can't just wash that out."

"Your mind works in mysterious ways, Enzo."

"It's called psychopathy. I believe you're familiar with it," I joke, lacing up the shoes

And for once, Makai snorts. Not like, a petty "I hate you, you're stupid" snort; but "Okay, that was a good joke," snort. "Yeah, I believe I am. You bringing weapons?" 

 "I am a weapon," I explain. "But, yeah. I'll carry a knife and keep my gun in the car.
 You need something?"

"Got any serrated needles around?"

"Probably," I admit. "But really, you need anything?"

"I've got Mase, but thanks, I guess."

Once I put my shoes on, I spray cologne.

"We're about to walk into a warzone, and you're putting on cologne?"

"That's the way to do it," I say with a shrug. "Ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Makai utters. "Is it okay if I leave my car where it is?"

Dismissively, I wave him off. "Yeah, it'll be fine."

"Then let's go."

Time to face the truth. Time to deal with my guilt, take responsibility for my actions and move on.