He put his eye on her.

Despite having very peculiar fantasies or possibly being an undiagnosed psychopath, he managed to maintain a semblance of normalcy. For a man in his twenties, his behavior was typical—if only just. But she was different. She was like him.

He noticed her subtle smirks and seemed to innately understand her desires, what turned her on... Beyond his macabre fantasies of dissecting her, wondering what her head would look like on a stick, or how thrilling it would be to see her place a dog collar on him, he also longed to love her. He wanted to be with her, to give her everything. She was strange, just like him.

"Try this," he said, his tone neutral and serious as he focused on her lips and placed the blunt in her mouth.

"Inhale... good girl..."

He had managed to become her friend, her best friend. Her father was his psychiatrist, a fact that conveniently allowed him to spend time at her house. Too good for him.