"Where is all of this leading to, Satan?" I had a couple of drinks and was feeling frustrated. It was time for this act to end. They weren't my friend; they were my enemy, and pretending otherwise wouldn't change that fact.
"What do you mean, Walter?" They knew exactly what I meant, but they were stalling for time.
"You know exactly what I said." I was tired of their games and their manipulations. Maybe it was because I had a rough day at work, but that wasn't the main reason. My mood was dark and serious, much like the day I ended their lives.
"Walter, that look in your eyes...I've seen it before."
I raised the glass to my lips, taking a long sip of whiskey and following it with a drag on my cigarette. My companion's worried expression made me smirk.
"What look?" I asked nonchalantly.
"That look you get when you're about to do something really bad, Walter." they took a deep breath. "Have I done something wrong? Is everything okay between us?"
I rolled my eyes and took another drag on my cigarette, enjoying the fear creeping into their voice as they repeated my name. It was satisfying.
"Relax, Walter, please!” they yearned. "We can talk through whatever's bothering you. We've been getting along swimmingly, after all. And we're creating a lovely home here..."
"This is already my fucking home," I spat out. "You are an unwelcome and uninvited intruder who I should have shot, dismembered, and disposed of the day you spoke up."
They gasped, clearly hurt by my words. Memory shadowed across their face.
"Now Walter, that's very hurtful," they said, trying to brush off my outburst.
"Bah," I scoffed.
"No, it is," they insisted. "You've had too much to drink and you're just being mean."
“Get out of my house, Satan. Before I get my gun.”
“Now, now Walter. Let's not be hasty. We were making such progress here. Our conversations, my cooking. Admit it, you enjoy our time together.”
“Fuck off and go to hell. You're just trying to mess with my mind again. You're the devil, always talking and manipulating me to get revenge and reclaim your power in the world. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Come on, Walter. You know that's not true. Don't act like this after everything we've been through.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I want you out.”
“Walter!”
I stormed away. They never did tell me I was wrong.
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The Behavioural Architect: Chapter 25- A Mentalist Cyberpunk Novel
