Page 3 of Craving Venom

Our banter makes me feel less like an idiot, and honestly, these two are the best chaos-management team I could ask for. Tria’s energy, Xaden’s calm, and my true crime obsession somehow make us work.

But there’s no time to relax. We practically sprint to the lecture hall, weaving through the hallway like it’s an obstacle course. By the time we slide into our seats, the professor’s already mid-sentence.

Breathless and flustered, I try to tune in. My notebook is open, but my brain is still playing catch-up. I sit slouched in the back row of the psychology hall, completely zoned out. My mind refuses to stay tethered to the discussion at hand. Instead, it keeps pulling me back to Zane Valehart. The haunting images from the documentary replay in my head like a broken reel.

The professor’s voice floats over me as he talks about the link between early life experiences and criminal behavior. His words feel like they’re aimed directly at the specter of Zane, making the lines between lecture and documentary blur in my mind.

The hum of students typing, scribbling notes, and murmuring fills the room, everyone seemingly locked into what Harrington’s saying. Meanwhile, I’m anything but present. Giving in to the itch, I open my laptop under the guise of taking notes.

I can’t resist. My fingers move almost on autopilot as I find myself back into the digital rabbit hole of Zane Valehart’s life. The articles, transcripts, and the back-and-forth between him and the investigative reporter Marissa Smith.

Marissa Smith: Mr. Valehart, aren’t you afraid of facing God’s judgment for what you’ve done?

Zane Valehart: Afraid of God’s judgment? The notion of divine retribution assumes there’s a moral framework to beginwith. I’m not concerned about a higher judgment. I’m well aware I’m destined for the depths of hell. But you know what? Who gives a shit? There’s an odd liberation in embracing damnation.

Zane’s response strikes a nerve, his words challenging not just conventional morality but the very fabric of existence itself. I continue to listen, the sensation of his eyes locked onto me through the screen growing ever more pronounced.

Marissa Smith: Killing is inherently wrong. How do you justify taking another person’s life?

Zane Valehart: Justify? Justification implies adherence to a moral compass. The idea that life is inherently sacred is a man-made construct. Wrong is a construct of society, a label that serves to maintain order. The only thing that’s wrong about killing is that it’s breaking the law. And laws are nothing more than rules devised by those who hold power. If you restrict somebody from it, they’re going to want it more.

I glance up briefly, catching the tail end of Harrington’s explanation about childhood trauma and how it can manifest in deviant behavior. My gaze flickers to Tria, a few rows ahead, diligently taking notes, and then to Xaden, who leans back in his chair, looking effortlessly engaged.

Marissa Smith: People label you as Evil. What do you say to that?

Zane Valehart: Evil is a term tossed around carelessly, a label slapped on those who defy societal norms. But understand this, Marissa, there’s no objective Evil. There’s no cosmic balance that determines one’s wickedness. Evil, in essence, is an expression of God.

Marissa Smith: Evil isn’t an expression of God.

Zane Valehart: Ah, but it is. Evil, in its origins, traces back to a follower of the fallen. Satan, Lucifer—the names change, but the essence remains. They represent rebellion, the guts to goagainst God. And by doing that, they become the opposite of a kind and loving creator.

Zane’s voice is dark, low, and magnetic, even through the damn screen. It’s like his creepy presence is seeping out of the documentary and into the room with me.

And then, out of nowhere, Dr. Harrington’s voice decides to drag me back to reality. “Miss Collins, care to share your thoughts on how early trauma messes with psychological development?”

I damn near jump out of my skin, blinking up at the professor. Not having a clue of how to respond, I glance over at my open laptop, to see the paused documentary still frozen on the screen. Zane’s haunting eyes stare back at me, capturing a moment that is basically frozen in time.

“Uh… sure. Early trauma kind of rewires the brain, right? Like, it messes with how someone processes fear, trust, and even love. Instead of learning to feel safe, they learn to survive. So everything after that… it’s built on defense, not development.”

The silence that follows is almost deafening. Every eye is on me, some curious, others straight-up judging. Even Dr. Harrington looks caught off guard for a second before he gives a small, approving nod.

“Thank you, Miss Collins. Your perspective is a poignant reminder of the complexities that shape human behavior.”

As the lecture rambles on, my heart is still racing, but I can’t deny this weird sense of feeling badass. Zane’s interview had somehow infiltrated my response, like his story and his voice had joined forces with my understanding of psychology.

Tria leans over, her eyes wide with shock. “Did you just pull that out of your ass on the spot?”

“Pretty much.” I shrug, trying to play it cool.

When the lecture wraps up, Tria and I exchange a look before packing up. As we head for the door, Xaden falls into step with us.

“Nice work in there,” he says, giving me a quick grin. “You always know how to shake things up.”

“Sometimes, the most unexpected sources can offer insights,” I say, feeling a little more confident now.

“Amen to that. It’s about finding the shades of gray, even in the darkest shit.”

His words stick with me as we walk out into the hallway. There’s something about them, about all of this, that feels like it’s opened a door in my brain.

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