Well, I mean...
Why didn’t you call earlier?
Uh...
And why is Ed’s wallet on your counter?
Fuck!I push off the door and grab another beer. I pace and drink. Drink and pace, and loyal Cobain follows behind me, panting and wagging his tail because he has no idea how fucked we are.
Marisa. Oh, Marisa... I mean, shit, she killed a girl and framed me for it. She’s batshit, but I have to hand it to her, she’s a fucking genius. I couldn’t have plotted a better story. I couldn’t have. That’s a twist that King would be proud of. Obsessed. She’s obsessed with me, mad about me, so much so she killed someone, and, at that thought I have to take a second to adjust my swelling cock. I mean, how can you not find beauty in this shit? She made me believe I killed Amy and all because... she’s jealous and fucking insane and crazy about me. She is. My dick grows harder by the second. As sick as it is, it’s just as hot. Marisa doesn’t love me, it’s more than that. She’d never leave me. Shecan’tleave me. My eyes drift to Ed’s wallet on my counter, to the tiny specks of blood on my shirt, and shit, Ican’tleave her. What happens when two people obsessed with the idea of love find each other and dance a forbidden dance? They become obsessed with the idea of each other.
Now, I’m laughing like a maniac, bracing my arms against the kitchen counter and sucking in deep breaths. “Shit,” I say, standing up and swiping Ed’s wallet from the counter. And then, I cackle. I mean, sure Romeo and Juliet—that’s a great love story, but fucking Harley Quinn and the Joker, that’s the kind of love story that’s epic on every level. And, you want to know why? Because love is fleeting, it’s an emotion. Something you’ll shed a tear or two over. Obsession, it’s something you’ll shed blood for. Obsession trumps love any-fucking-day.
