Secret Life

I'm far from typical, okay?
Everybody who knows me, knows that.
But I still have huge sections of my life that I haven't told ANYONE, but I'm gonna tell you.
I've done some bad things, and I just can't stop.

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5. him.

The aroma arising into my room, made me wander out into the tiny kitchen to see what he was making. It smelt like chili or something, and it was in a pot.

When I turned the corner, I saw him in the kitchen: his tank stained and his hair in a ponytail. When he saw me, he smiled. That was the first time I'd seen his teeth.

"I went to the store... while you were gone.." He told me, stirring the brew.

I nodded, and went to the living room to turn on the small tv I stole. It was weird when I thought about our situation from an outside point of view. I'm letting one of the biggest criminals of the time cook me dinner. And I'm not thinking anything about it. I'm just letting him go on with his business. Letting him live here. With me.

No cares in the world, I saw him bring me a bowl. With another in his hand, he sat down on the opposite side of the couch.

"Chili." He told me. I was right. He handed me a spoon saying "it's good... I promise. My mother taught me."

I smiled at him, at a loss for words. This man.. This killer.. Was really attractive, I had to admit. He kept himself fit. You could tell through the tanktop that he had good muscle definition. His hair was longer for a mans, and I liked it. It reached his shoulders. It was wavy and dark brown. His eyes were green, but I could've swore they got lighter since the last time I saw them. This killer's height was the sexiest part. Tall men make me melt, and this man was taller than tall. Six foot five, maybe? Over all, if this man wasn't a murderer, he could've been a model.

The thing was, for me: he could be the killer he was and I still had an urge to check him out every two minutes. What kind of person did that make me? We could date and our outings would consist of milkshakes and corpses! What am I thinking?

I took a big gulp of his chili, blowing on it first. "Why kill me now?" I thought, "with poison?" That wouldn't make any sense. It's no fun. He could slaughter me if he wanted me dead... Right?

Right. I didn't die, and the chili tasted as good as it smelt. "Oh my god!" I exclaimed, "this is the best dinner I've had in ages!" I was kind of bubbly from that point on. I broke the awkward barrier by so outwardly complimenting his cooking skills. It was like we'd known each other for months. But I still had to ask him some questions...

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