asylum [kai parker] editing/rewriting

Thirty-Two

"Me?" I laugh, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

"No, Taylor Swift, who do you think?" He covers up his hurt side with his ego, and humor.

"Oh."

"Yeah. And that, is why I needed the money." He tries to stop the conversation there, but I won't have it.

"Why?" I say after a short break of silence.

"Because I needed to show you how to live." I prepare myself for the speech I'm about to be given. "You blamed yourself, no matter what, and I needed to understand why. There wasn't any guilt left in me then, and you helped me get it back."

"But even as you got the guilt back, you took away mine." I murmur, and I'm surprised he even hears it.

He falls silent, staring at me intently. "That wasn't my intention."

"Sure it wasn't." I mutter, before changing my response. "Then what was your intention?"

"You needed to see the world from my perspective." He says blandly.

"And what perspective is that?"

"The higher perspective. The perspective of someone who can do what they want with out having to ask their father. The perspective of someone like me. A sociopath." He says, tapping his hand on the wheel, not even taking a glance at me for my reaction.

"And would you look at that, now I am one." It's not true. Yet. But I can't help that somewhere along the line I'll be just as bad as him, maybe even worse.

Kai shakes his head. "Simone, we even out each other. We balance each other out. And if you are too blinded to see that-"

"I can." I mutter, causing him to stop his small lecture.

He leans back in his seat, slightly more content than before. "I'm sorry," he sighs, but I can still hear the words. I can hear the truth in them. He must sense me staring because he turns and shoots me a small smile, a happy one. Like he's relieved to get that off his chest.

"I forgive you."

Those three little words make him happier, and for some reason it's quite easy to tell. My eyes move to the clock in the middle of the car, reading the time. My eyes feel like someone's pushing them down. The excruciating pain in my head hurts a little less when I close my eyes. So that's exactly what I do.

I rest.

✦ ✦ ✦

"Come out, come out wherever you are..." The voice echoes, causing my stomach to do a flip.

"No, no. Please. No." I cry, but I can barely feel the tears on my cheeks. Everything is just so numb.

The doorknob turns, and I slide further into my closet. Something steps into the room, and I can hear the pattern of footsteps. They're light, almost as if the thing chasing me was a mouse. But it's not a mouse.

The burnt clothing is the first thing I see. Blackened sweatpants covering a boy smothered in charcoal. He's not wearing shoes, and his toes are all bloody. As my eyes travel up, I take in the ripped shirt and messy brown hair. His face is covered in ash and soot, and a scar extends from his lip to his forehead. However, this boy is only three feet tall.

He's smiling, looking me right in the eye. "Simmy, want to play with me?"

Blood covers the boy's mouth. His teeth are either broken, or missing, causing sharp shattered dagger-like teeth to peek from his lips. "No no no no no." I whisper, but the boy doesn't hear.