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From that one sighting, whenever she read about him, she thought of him as the Prince of Darkness. Still, she was curious. He was fascinating, intriguing and even though she was afraid to approach him, she wanted to ask a thousand questions. Who was the real Donovan Corbett? What mattered to him? Why had he made the choices he had? What did he like about being a dominant, being in control? Boxers or briefs? She doubted he noticed her as she watched him that night. He looked sophisticated, well-traveled and well educated, as if he could select wine better than any sommelier, or speak more than one language, or know who designed his suit just by the way the button was attached. He also looked very spoiled, as though he never bothered to wonder how clean socks appeared when he needed them. She had the feeling if Donovan Corbett was in a laundry room, he wouldn’t know the washer from the dryer. It was more likely, he’d have to ask directions just to get to the laundry room. But, he. And while I felt a pang of sorrow for what might befall the boy, he was not my immediate concern. He was not my flesh and blood. He could die but not my little brother Johnny.Crouching behind a fallen ATM machine, I brought up the M16 rifle and aimed at the possible exit the boy might take. I was a good shot thanks to my father who trained both his sons to use guns at an early age. My hand didn’t shake as I saw the boy crash into the hard plexi-glass doors with them right behind him. His eyes bulged out of their sockets when he felt their teeth sink into his shoulders and thighs. I took the safety off. There was no point in killing them but at least I could grant mercy to the poor child writhing in agony and terror in front of me.Besides, I couldn’t risk him becoming a monster. Shit, the world didn’t need more of them. There were too many already. So I squeezed the trigger and the life went out of those brown, innocent eyes.Later I went to where Johnny was waiting. The kid was.
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