Prologue
Julian
About twenty-three years ago
I learned early in life not to care what society deems “good” or “evil,” when my mother would beat me to a pulp, accuse me of being the source of all her misery, and throw me in the unfinished basement with rats and roaches every weekend.
There is no true right or wrong, it's all subjective.
In elementary school, I met the object of my obsession, Molly. She was stunning. Not even the sunlight could brighten her black-as-midnight hair. She always had it in braided pigtails but on picture days, it hung loose. Like a curtain, it played with the wind, teasing and luring me.
Where Molly went, I followed, always listening for her giggles, making sure that my love was okay. At night, I’d sneak out of my house into her bedroom, watching her sleep peacefully, making sure she was safe. As the years passed, I grew used to checking her closet, drawers, and journals too, making sure she had everything she needed. Like when I left her heart shaped erasers, glitter ink pens, a new journal, and a copy ofThe Phantom of the Opera.
Molly had no idea I existed, but I knew everything about her. I watched her from afar because I knew we were too young to fulfill my true desires. Still, I always knew she’d be mine someday, so I waited.
It wasn’t until high school that her interest in other men started concerning me. Of course, she’d had crushes I’d read about in her journals but they’d all been temporary. As a teen, Molly was a black-haired siren, wearing clothes that were too revealing, needing the attention and approval from Ben, the quarterback, and his teammates. It was obvious, of course, her neediness, so they took advantage. Their hands would slide into her bra, pretending they were playing, and she’d fake a smile, then cringe away. She'd hold her sob until she was blocks away from school, on the way home. Like the jealous cheerleaders, I witnessed it all from afar. It was a pathetic and depressing display, watching her throw herself at them, only to be used.My darkness filled my vision with red on the daily, tensing my body with a rage that I myself feared.
Then the day came when the principal commented about the classes she was failing. Gladly, I offered her my tutoring services. She was too naive to guess that my generosity carried a high and sinister price. I’d occupy all her afternoons and nights. No morehanging out with the football team or with her friends. Slowly, I manipulated her into believing she only loved and needed me, and into doing my every bidding.
There was nothing like the sudden whiplashing silent treatment to get her under my thumb. It was a three-step system.
Give her a compliment or pretend I shared an interest that no one else knew she had, making her feel less lonely.
Look at her with disapproval over the most minuscule mistake. She'd apologize and explain herself countless times.
Then, I'd go radio silent and wait. I’d let it stew until her mind was as obsessed with getting me back as I was with controlling every part of her. Most men lacked the patience, but not I. By day six, Molly would cry her eyes out and beg me for forgiveness. It made me feel whole, knowing how much she needed me.
“Please… You’re my only real friend,” she’d cry.Oh, how sweet the words, like fresh honey on hot toast.
That's just it my dear, you've failed me. By now, I should be more important to you than the air you breathe.I kept messing with her mind until it was an absolute spectacular, fragile mystery to anyone else. I knew soon I'd get exactly whatI wanted. It was confounding, how I could rearrange all her thoughts so easily. Despite my accomplishment, I would still play into it, compose myself and hide the glee, keep it from shining through my smile.
Instead, I'd scream at her, “You realize that I’m the only person who gives a fuck about you, right? Those idiots you waste your time with? They would fuck you, and then leave you on the side of the road. I’m the only one who doesn’t see you as trash.”
The confidence would melt from her face every time. “Yes, I know.”
Soon, every calculus tutoring session earned me at least a blowjob. A favorite memory of mine, was when she gave me one and I didn’t speak to her for three days. “You didn’t try hard enough. Your teeth hurt me,” I lied when she begged me to explain my silence.
It took everything to hide my shock when she promised, “I’ll do better this time.”
“Show me. Now.” I grabbed her hand and guided her to the school's boiler room. Within seconds, she dropped to her knees, desperate for my forgiveness. I couldn’t help but smile while biting onto my bottom lip the entire time I fucked her throat, wrenching tears and screams from her. I hoped, as she dug her fingers into my thigh, as she gagged, she’d be wishing it was Ben. What fascinated me the most was how she’d do it, even though it was clear she didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t realize the rage from watching her flirt with him had obliterated what innocence I’dcarried about our love. The power to bend her to my will had intoxicated me.
After high school, I allowed her to drift away, knowing I’d eventually pull her back into my chokehold. There were a few dates here and there. Sometimes I’d put in the effort and make her laugh during our phone calls. I would always watch her sleep and read her journals when I was in town. But I knew to my core that despite all my efforts and patience that like my mother, Molly never loved me.
In my last year in medical school, I invited her to go camping with me. As usual, the hesitancy in her voice told me she didn’t really want to. “But I’ve reserved the camping site like you wanted,” I protested.
“Okay.” She'd sighed and arrived at my dorm room three days later as we'd arranged.