my psychopath | jojian

four.

all the adrenaline had worn off, and now max's body was floating and being carried away by a current. i was fucking tired. for some reason it was a different kind of tired. like where i could actually sleep. most days i came home and was tired, but i could never sleep. that explains the bags under my eyes. 

i thought a lot. everything was on my mind at once, and there was no real way of stopping it. trying to slow down never worked, it kinda made it worse. it was anxiety, i'm guessing. i read that on a mental health article somewhere, and how it can fuck you up basically. some people even needed medication for it. if i ever got caught, i hoped i wasn't one of those people. 

i needed to get that thought out of my head. i look up and notice how there was only a few cars or people out tonight. it was really fucking late. i started to wonder where they're going. what was so important at this time of day? or i guess morning now. 

i lit a cigarette as i was driving. i needed one, like i needed a shower. i could just take one in the morning. it was the weekend now anyway. 

it was times like these that i'm glad i am eighteen and can live alone. no one gives a fuck about what i do, or when i come home. at times it's sad, since the reason on why i live alone. but i don't care about that anymore. 

i stepped into my house, thankful to be home. i put my duffel bag next to the doorway that led to my room and took my shoes off. i was in jeans and this button up shirt but i was too tired to care about that right now. i plopped onto my bed face first, and slowly drifted off into sleep. 

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i woke up to my phone ringing. it was chloe. she usually liked to do things with me on saturday. but there was no way i could go out of the house today. i would have to tell her that. 

except she wasn't calling about me.

"j-joji! max is missing. no one knows where he is!" i mentally sighed. now people are gonna be looking for him. he's never gonna be found though. his body is far away from anyone right now. i just had to reassure myself of that. "fuck that's terrible." i tried sounding shocked. it must've worked. "i just hope he's not hurt or anything." oh he's definitely not hurting anymore. "maybe he just ran away. you know how max was." she sighed. 

"yeah. max does seem like the type to run away. i guess we'll have to wait if anything comes up or not." 

we continued to talk for a little bit until she had to go. that's when i realised how hungry i was, so i made some breakfast. a scrambled egg and some coffee. it was damn good, and for once i kinda felt okay.

 i finished my coffee while drawing another portrait of ian. this damn guy was stuck in my head and there was nothing i could do about it. some part of me wanted to talk to him more, but the other part of me refused and knew it was a bad idea. i stopped moving my pencil and argued with myself. 

what would be so bad about talking to him? 

 he could possibly find out about everything and how i'm fucked mentally. 

tell the police.

i get arrested and put in a straitjacket along with a padded cell so i could never cause any harm to anyone again. people would forget i existed. 

i shook my head at the thought and went back to my sketchbook. this portrait was nice, and soft. his face relaxed but still smiling. he was happy. it might've been my new favorite drawing i've ever created. 

and it was of ian carter. 

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