His profile raised, he drops his head to his left, to face me with his lazy eyes. I was becoming forgetful second by second of the dull bulb that hung over my nerves; our skin.
He bared his teeth intentionally, it seemed. "And cracked open his skull."
His eyelids would always droop down. But he had wild eyes. We had a description once, "Satan's eyes." she said. Right before having another seizure. T'was a god-crazed epileptic; just our luck.
"But ah didn't see 'at. Y'see, it ull 'ent black. But ah wus swingin'. Ah know ah was. Ah felt'et."
He was lying. Those hits were too spot on. Intentional. Angry. Mad. Ravishing.
"Ah know y'like me doc. Ah c'n see it in ye face. Ye legs. 'Ey shake when ah speak 'bout how they bled."
My legs shook.. His voice trailed off into a raspy ending, a whispered sound. "How they begged."
The inside of my mouth was flooding with saliva. ..How embarrassing..
He smiled. "'Ee should be ***'nis, ye know. We'd make a pretty couple."
There was a pause, almost too long, before he blinked slowly and opened his eyes to observe a crack on the wall to his right. He had complained about it before, "'Tis too ******' noticeable." He'd say.
He wanted it to be like the other walls. He wanted it to be neat and gray. So it wouldn't be excluded, so it wouldn't stand out. So it wouldn't be treated differently, wrong. So it wouldn't suffer the injustice of the majority.
He hated things being out of place. Mostly because he was sick of being out of place himself. Ironic, I'd say. He had a passion for making a mess out of his victims.