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SHANE: I stretched, yawning.
Monday. I hate Mondays.
Keith never calls on Mondays. Neither does Molly. Or my sis, Jenna.
I don't even have folk over on Monday nights usually. I'm not usually in the mood. There's something about that day godammit. I usually have to take people home on Monday mornings. God, I love the weekend but Mondays... ugh.

Clay was a good little guy. He would soon be home though, after one of my 'cocktails'. For now though, he could be reasonably sober.
Clay was one of my favourites. He was very good looking and very submitting.
Not that submitting matters on half a bottle of vodka and a good dose of another one of my pals, Rohypnol.
I'm lucky they sell that stuff over the counter! It does what I need in high doses - 'moderate sustained immobility and memory loss'. Just perfect. Like Clay I suppose.

Well, how else would I get away with all my fun if it weren't for drugs? For most people that enter my appartment, they will never remember it or think it even existed. I know how dangerous it is, but I'm relatively safe at the moment in the new neighbourhood.

Clay stirred and his head lolled onto my chest. He looked so sweet just lying there. I had given him a bad bruise though. Clay had been feisty last night, put up such a fight with me! I mostly give him less alcohol when he comes over. I can't help it, I seem to have a deadly softspot for him already. And how deadly they could get...

I wanted to take a picture of him, but my camera was too far away to bother to get to. Besides, soon I'd have to let go of Clay. Three months is a very long time for him to be associated with me. All it could take was one moment of trust, one drug too less even and it'd be over.

There and then, I decided I'd see no more of young Clay. I'd drop him outside his home very soon. I'd get rid of his contacts too. I'd never have to see him again, and then hopefully I'd never have to look him in the face, those blue orbs digging into my flesh every second I saw him.

Now, for new people. Mikey Way and Frank Iero. Prime targets. Mikey would be my first target. I could invite myself over soon, make up a bad excuse to be in New Jersey. He's very trusting too. Seems somewhat starved of attention in places. I only wish I had taken some more psycology classes though, so I could really understand these people.

All my friends but Keith and Molly think I live in West Virginia, but I don't. Hell, I have friends who think I'm in Alabama. Whatever state tickles my fancy I guess.

I had recently moved to West Belleville. In an appartment, in a small tower block. I only bought it based on price. I picked the area at random though.

I slid out of bed and put on some goddam underwear. Blue today. Always blue.
I looked for a lighter and a fag in my bedside cabinet. I pushed all the trash and little boxes and that stupid picure frame I kept to find them! I can never find things! It's my fault, as I'm not one to clean up but still, it's like things have been hidden from me at times.

Yeah, I had to let go of Clay. I lit up and stood at my high up, barely existant windows. It's pretty cool being able to see the street from ground level actually...
Except when a dog or whatever lays a present right in front of your only window. Then it sucks.

I got out a piece of bread and stuck it in the toaster until it was blackened. I sat down on my bed, licking off the black, burnt bits of toast. They're the only bits of toast I really like.
I touched Clay's forehead. Warm. The last time I'll see him... I stared down on his innocent little face and wondered if he was even ever going to remember me. I guess if he was I'd be in jail but I cann't tell you how often I'd fantasise about someone like him accpeting thier fate, even embracing it.

I can't get too attached to these people, I know it. Molly is my girl for a proper relationship. Sorta.
And Keith is my boy if I want a friend. Apart from that I'm rahter solitary.
None of these whores should really be my friend, but, you just can't help it sometimes. I can't get too protective of thier wellbeing, because if I whore them out to a buddy (only occassionaly) and they're rougher than expected... I loose it sometimes.

Unless they're the ones you tie up and stuff. Then I end up seeing them as mere filth after a couple weeks. I'm usually very fickle with people, unless I work on them for a few weeks, groom them, if you like. That's only if I set my sights on people. Usually it's not too hard otherwise.

The kids on my cork board never change, except if I add any. It's got around 25-40 guys on it. A mixture of boys and girls, ranging from 15 - 27.

Don't worry, I go easy on the 15 year old. Her family doesn't care anyway. They think I'm teaching her Science for free. They're also dirt poor so I give her some money anyway. I DO have sympathy for some folk, you know. Especially young-ins or ones with huge-innocent eyes... Ones that when I look at them, all the humanity is lost, becuase I had been exercising my own. When I wake up and see thier totured eyes, shut tight, too scared to leave the appartment, knwoing they never will. They're the only ones to snap me out of my fantasy, to tell me that maybe, just maybe what I'm doing is wrong.

I wanted to get it over with. I wanted Clay to get out of my life already. Any longer and it could be a seriously fucked up relationship going on.
Have you ever had a boy/girlfriend who you 'rent out'? Nobody has. This kinda thing would be wrong. I could get found out too so easily. I can't love, not love Clay at least.

"Clay." I nudged him.
His eyes opened slowly, like his eyelids were impossibly heavy.
"Shane....? What is...?"

I tried to retain bitterness at times like this.
"Nothing. Get dressed, you're going home." I had made sure none of his clothes even had a hair of mine on it, just to be sure.
"Why, why 'm I here?"
"Just get dressed sunshine."

I shut the door on him and went to my fridge. I found some cranberry juice for him and got out my Rohypnol and went back to my room.
"Hey, Shane, what happened last night?!" Clay was examining his face. I had split his lip, bruised his cheek and made a cut under one eye. We were fighting, he got drunk before I gave him the drugs, and boy was that a turn on.

"Oh, you got drunk. You asked to stay here." I'm used to making up lies by now. I'd be screwed if I hadn't! I set down the drink and many pills.
"But I'm naked -" I ignored the clear hole in my story and sat beside him once more.

"This won't hurt you." I snatched Clay from behind, placing my hand firmly over his mouth.
He screeched with fear and tried to wrench my hand off. I pushed him to lie down.
"Stop it!!" I scooped up all the pills with one hand and changed my other hand to hold a strong grip on his neck.
"Swallow." I murmured tonelessly. I poured each and every pill down his gagging throat.
Clays murky eyes were watering badly as he struggled to get away.
"Now, drink." I tried to sound calm as I emptied the glass into his mouth.
Clay gave up fighting and when I was sure he had swallowed, I let him sit back up, then held his wrists behind his back. Restraining him.
"What was that?! Shane! What the fuck are you...?!" I could hear all the emotions in his voice. Fear, outrage, hoplessness. All there. I was supposed to love him, I was supposed to see him as an object, I was supposed to ignore his humanity.

But every whimper hurt.