It being Valentine's Day, I figured I should post something fluffy and romantic, and if you're looking for any of that here, I'm afraid to say you're SOL. Sorry! Guess I'm super unromantic this year. ;)
Here it is, lurkers, your teaser:
Chris waves off the joint and lights himself a cigarette. I close my eyes and listen to a mud dog howl. Its cry is long and sad and lonely. When I open my eyes, Chris twirls his cigarette, then holds it like a pen, the burning tip aimed to his left hand, the unscarred one. Just when I think he’s going to burn himself, he spins the cigarette and takes another drag.
“You know,” Chris says, simple as that, easy as pie. “I think I want to kill my parents.”
I stare at him until he turns to look at me. His face is smooth—no anger, no jest—and his eyes are a clear, watery blue. He looks at me and I look at him and I think, yeah, no one deserves to kill their parents as much as you do, Chris.
Then Chris cracks a smile. The laugh that bubbles out of him is smooth and easy, and I can’t imagine him as the kind of person that would actually hurt anyone. He doesn’t have scars or disfigurements. He’s not hanging out in alleys and beating up kids for extra change. He’s not a monster; he’s just a kid.
Then again, what do I know about monsters?