“You saw what?”
“I’m so embarrassed to tell, Papa.”
“You should never be embarrassed to tell the truth.”
“She had her mouth around a boy’s penis,” I blurt.
“Oh, Princess. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.”
“Should I tell the principal? I didn’t see the boy’s face.”
“No. I’ll be the one to talk to him. When you go to school tomorrow, that nurse will be history.”
“Thank you, Papa. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Princess. See you later. I have news for you.”
“Can’t wait.” I manage a forced smile as I hang up.
One out of the way.
She shouldn’t have touched an underage kid in the first place. That scum is a paedophile and I’m doing society a favour by using Papa’s power.
Cole thinks he can win in everything, but he doesn’t know the small ways I’ll always win against him.
My fingers run over the necklace.
If he wants a war, then war is what he’ll get.
10
Cole
Age sixteen
Is there a place in literature or psychology books that states when you should realise you’re not…normal?
I’ve had my suspicions since that night when I stopped crying once and for all, but lately, I’ve been noticing the abnormality more than usual. I’ve been reading books about deviant behaviour and thoughts. The thing is, those theories don’t really apply to me.
I’ve never looked at a kitten or a puppy and decided I wanted to hurt it or felt the urge to. If anything, I think people who have such thoughts are cowards. They want to do greater damage, but they latch onto creatures way weaker than themselves who can’t do anything to stop them. Those people are pathetic, and I’ll never belong in the same bracket as them.
That leaves me with little to no choices as to where I should be put. Do I have anti-social behaviour? Do I want to hurt people?
The answer to the latter is no. I don’t care about people enough to want to hurt them.
Besides, I love my mum. In my own way. She’s the reason I still believe there could be something else for me.
Chaos is still one of my secret tendencies, though.
Whenever I find the opportunity to bring it back to the world, I do. Since we play football, I usually get that chance by instigating a small fight here, a rivalry there. It brings flavour to the other players’ boring lives, so they should thank me for it.
If chaos is the only thing that makes sense, what does that make me?
Chaotic?
I don’t think so. I enjoy watching chaos from afar, but I dislike being in the middle of it.
There is unwanted chaos in my life — the type I can’t seem to control no matter how much I try.