Page 10 of Torn In Two

I couldn’t care less about the man who lay dead somewhere, probably buried in a shallow grave in the woods or tossed off the Saint View bluff. But I did care about the man sitting across the circle from me.

Watching him more closely, I noted the way his leg bounced, just the tiniest amount, like he was actively trying to control it and not quite getting there. “You’re triggered,” I suggested softly.

X snapped his gaze to meet mine. “I’m fine.”

“You know you’re not,” Ace disagreed. “You’re twitching. You never fucking twitch.”

X took another drag on his smoke. “Fine. What the fuck ever. I can’t stop thinking about the blood spilling. Every person I walk past I think about slitting their throats and setting free the crimson river…”

“Very poetic,” Whip said dryly.

Torch faked a yawn. “Who cares? Just do it. See what happens.”

I groaned internally and shot him a look. “Don’t say things like that. That’s not helpful in this space, and you know it.”

He sat up a little straighter, suitably abashed. “Fine. X, don’t kill people on the streets, okay? Stick to the list.”

It wasn’t the worst advice, and sometimes, I had to take what I could get. Nobody had ever claimed a support group for psychopaths would be perfect. But these men had found their way to me one by one or were sent to me by Trigger. They came to these meetings, not because they wanted to give up their vices altogether. It was almost impossible for a true murderous psychopath to change who they were at their core.

But these men were trying to channel their urges in more productive places.

And I was trying to help them.

I pointed a pen at X. “I agree with Torch. Focus your energy on the list. Or go cold turkey for a month.”

All four of them gaped at me like that was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world.

Whip shook his head. “Asking him to go cold turkey for a month is like asking a man to give up sex.”

“Or breathing,” Torch added. “Fucking hell.”

I sighed. “Meetings then. Every time you think you’re going to slip, you call us instead.” I sternly focused in X’s direction. “Every time.”

He gave me a nod and held his hand up like he was a Boy Scout. “I will not poke knife holes in the skin of an innocent just to see how they bleed.”

I squinted at him. “Really?”

He grinned. “You’re the one who likes affirmations.”

I gave up and turned my attention to Ace, knowing I had to wrap this meeting up so I could get to work. “What about you?”

He shrugged. “Shot my neighbor’s rooster yesterday.”

The entire room broke out in a cacophony of shouts.

“Oh, you are messed up in the head.” Whip’s disgust was written all over his face.

Torch rolled the wheel on his lighter so fast it made sparks. “This makes me real fucking unhappy, Ace. Real fucking unhappy.”

“You can’t fucking kill animals, you psychopath!” X shouted.

Though wasn’t that the kettle calling the pot black?

This was exactly why I’d first agreed to start working with men like this. The way their minds worked was endlessly fascinating. There was barely a blink when X had talked about running his blade into another human being or when Whip had admitted to stalking another target, an unapproved one at that. But Ace kills a rooster…

“Humans are all pieces of shit,” Whip explained. “Even the ones not on the list. None of us are innocent. We do bad shit. Lie. Cheat. Steal… Litter.”

I hid a laugh at him throwing in littering with the rest of the list.

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