He wanted to peel off his skin and pluck out his nerves.

He never wanted to feel anything ever again.

Simply being in the same room as Luke created a tension in the air that pressed against every inch of his body, and he hated the feeling almost as much as he loved being around Luke. Maybe if he could just render his sensory nerves useless, then he could be around Luke without feeling like he was imploding inside a black hole.

Sitting in a small car, inches away from him, didn't make the feeling any better. Luke's gaze would linger on him for too long, his voice would trail off mid-sentence too often. Luke was taking up all the oxygen, and he wasn't even doing anything.

When they finally arrived at their new apartment, finally escaped from the suffocating confines of the car, they headed directly to their new place without speaking to each other. He and Luke stepped inside, staring at the partially-furnished place with blank stares on their faces but mixed emotions churning in their stomachs.

"This is my home now," Luke muttered as he set down his things.

"This is our home now," Helen grumbled behind him before pushing him aside and heading directly towards one of the bedrooms. "Remember, the bigger bedroom is mine."

Helen did seem to notice the awkward tension between the two, but she didn't mention it or acknowledge it. Damien was grateful for that. He was grateful for the one area in his life that was still stable. It gave him to ability to at least pretend that everything else was alright.

When they had sex that night, Luke was much more aggressive than usual. He pinned down his arms and thrust into him forcefully. Damien didn't mind the aggression, but it was out of place. He wondered if Luke was trying to prove something. If he was trying to prove that he could control him.

He never could, never will.

***

After everything that had happened, never did anyone think that Helen would be the happiest about the situation they were in.

It took a while for them to settle in, in fact, Damien often wondered if he was still settling in. He also wondered if Luke felt the same, but they've been avoiding each other far too often for him to make any assumptions.

But Helen, on the other hand, she was settled in in the same way he wanted to settle his knife into her ribs. Once she found herself a job and clique to hang out with, she started prancing about the place like she was having the best time of her life.

And it infuriated Damien because he didn't do all this shit for her. He did it for himself, and also for Luke, but mostly for himself. Not for her.

"Why are you so mean to me?" Helen eventually asked.

"I'm always mean," Damien grumbled back, not bothering to look up from his laptop.

"No, but," she sighed, "you're particularly mean to me."

"Why do you care?"

"Why don't you?"

Damien didn't respond, knowing that she knew the answer to that question already.

She sighed again and set down whatever she was holding. "Damien, I'm just trying to enjoy myself here—"

"Then don't."

"You don't want me to enjoy myself?"

"I do not."

"Why not?"

He shut his laptop and glared sharply at her. "Because when you enjoy yourself, you get distracted, and then you sloppy, and then you get caught.

He got up and left the room before he could make a sloppy mistake.

***

Then she started hovering around him, following him around the apartment. He planned his routine to avoid her as much as possible, but on the rare occasion that they were in the apartment at the same time, she was always there, following behind. He knew that she wanted something from him. She wanted him to acknowledge her, but he refused to give her the attention she desperately craved from him. But there was one time she caught his attention.

"What if I helped you?"

He paused what he was doing briefly. "What?"

"What if I helped you with . . . killing?"

"I don't need help with that."

"You don't need help with finding victims?"

He rolled his eyes. "I definitely don't need help with that."

"I did it before! I can do it again."

"Yeah, and you fucked it up. I'm not gonna let you fuck it up again."

"I promise I won't fuck it up this time."

"Oh, well since you promised . . ." he drawled out sarcastically.

"I'm serious! If you tell me what to do, and how to do it, I will."

He considered it. He thought it over.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, but within that pause, inside the odd brain of that strange girl, gears were turning, thoughts were buzzing around the place, a manipulative plan was starting to develop.

She squinted at him thoughtfully. "When was the last time you killed?"

He shrugged.

"Well, I'm assuming it's been a while."

He shrugged again.

"And I'm assuming that's why you've been acting cranky."

Then he rolled his eyes. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"If you let me help you, I'd be able to get you victims much more easily than you could."

"Oh, really?"

"A girl like me is much more trustworthy than a guy like you."

He inhaled deeply and looked away. "Okay," he exhaled. "I'll think about it."

Unfortunately, he did think about it, again. He wasn't going to admit that her plan worked, but he couldn't say that it didn't. He didn't want to give Helen whatever the hell she wanted, but that was exactly what he was doing.

***

He didn't know if killing someone would make him feel better or worse. Most importantly, he didn't know how it would make Luke feel.

But Helen continued her manipulative campaign against Damien. She tantalized him with opportunities that were difficult to refuse. She showed him friends she didn't like. She sent him maps for abandoned locations. She joked about murder as often as she could. She would've made a good politician.

He also would've murdered her himself if Luke wasn't around.

But Luke was there, always there even when he wasn't, still using up the oxygen, still taking up space. Damien truly wished that he could tear out his nerves. Or float in the endless vacuum of space. Or do anything to get himself out of his misery.

***

And so he killed someone.

He didn't need much convincing, but Helen's last trick seemed to be what pushed him over the edge. She confronted him with a detailed plan with the perfect victim, time, place, and situation, and he couldn't have possibly turned that away.

So one day, while Luke was out at work, Damien met Helen at an abandoned factory, several miles away from the city. Locked up in the basement of the factory was Damien's next victim.

"He's tied up and ready to go, just like you ordered, sir," she greeted with a mock salute as Damien entered through the side door.

He ignored her and headed directly towards the stairs.

"Wait, wait, that's it? Not even a thanks?"

"I'll thank you when I'm done," he replied, still heading for the stairs.

"Wait."

He sighed and glanced at her. "What?"

"Can I watch?"

He frowned and shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because you need to keep watch."

She groaned heavily. "Fine, but next time I get to watch."

"There won't be a next time."

She grinned and nodded her head knowingly before he opened the door and briskly headed down the stairs.

***

He took his time.

It had been so long since he'd last done this and he was going to take his time.

He used every one of his tricks to make the guy scream. Every snip and jab elicited a scream that nearly broke his eardrums. But gradually, the screams became weak and hoarse, and by then, his ears were ringing and his mind was buzzing.

And the blood. God, it was beautiful, it was delicious. A scrumptious masterpiece that Damien could only describe as an overload of sensational delight, an experience that transcended time and the senses. After the guy had exhaled his final breath, Damien couldn't properly process anything.

He only felt this way when he waited too long, and perhaps that was a good thing, perhaps it was worth it. Maybe it was a worth the mess.

***

Damien gradually regained his senses once he started cleaning up his mess, and then quickly once Helen headed down to help. He knew from previous experiences that cleaning up messes with someone was a good bonding experience. He never intended on "bonding" with Helen, but with the way she set everything up, he had no other choice but to make her his accomplice.

Soon, Damien found himself spending more time with Helen than with Luke. Unlike he had expected, there were more "next times." And during each "next time," he noticed Helen inching closer and closer to him until she was crouching at the corner of the basement, watching him carve up one of her friends.

That was definitely something he didn't expect, and something he didn't want to happen. But he didn't have much control over it, and he had no reason to stop her.

***

Things were getting better. At least, he thought they were better. Maybe a little murder was what improved his mood and lifted the heavy tension from his chest.

But it was an illusion. Nothing had changed, and nothing was better.

The moment Luke was confronted with the fact that he was completely alone with Damien, he immediately left the room and went out to the balcony to smoke. He recently picked up the habit from work, Damien was assuming. He never asked about it, but he didn't need to, considering the heavy stench of cigarettes emanating from his clothes.

Damien considered giving Luke privacy but then followed Luke out to the balcony before he could consider otherwise.

Luke was already sucking vigorously on a cigarette.

"So you smoke now?" Damien asked.

Luke exhaled, releasing a stream of smoke into the air. "There's a lot of down time at work."

"So you smoke?"

"Yeah."

Luke continued the cycle of intense inhaling and exhaling of smoke until Damien was sick of it.

"It's not good for you."

"Well, at least I'm not killing people."

"So is that what you've been wanting to talk about?"

"No." Luke glanced at him. "But, we haven't, you know, talked about that night—"

"Do you want to?"

Luke sighed out heavily. "No. Although, I would like to know if that's something I'm gonna have to worry about."

Damien smirked, although there was a sense of dread swelling in his stomach, and not even an amused smirk could hide that. "Have you been worrying about that while you were fucking me?"

"I don't mean when I'm fucking you."

"You don't have to worry. At least, not now."

Luke scoffed, the cigarette sitting in his mouth. "Why? Because you're having so much fun with Helen now?"

"Are you jealous because I'm hanging out with her?"

Luke frowned. "I'm worried."

"I'll be fine."

"Not about you, you asshole."

"What's to worry about? She's a big girl. She can take care of herself."

"But she can't control you."

"She doesn't need to."

Luke pulled the cigarette away from his lips and lowered his arms. "But what happens when you lose control of yourself?" Damien shrugged, prompting Luke to glare directly at him. "Don't hurt her."

"Why would I do that?"

"You've told me, on multiple occasions, that you wanted to hurt her."

"Well, I wouldn't do that now."

"This isn't a fucking joke, Damien, don't fucking touch her."

"I'm not joking, Luke. I won't touch her."

Luke tossed the cigarette aside. "I don't believe you."

As he headed back inside, Damien called out, "When have I lied to you?"

Luke paused at the door, barely turning his head towards him. "I don't think you're lying. But I still don't trust you."

He stepped inside and shut the door, leaving Damien speechless.

He wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't speak, why all the oxygen had escaped his lungs, why he was suffocating. Why, why, why, because of a stupid, simple phrase?