The flickering fluorescence light of the monitors are the only source of light in this shut off room. A notebook full of scribbled words of ink lies to the side, reachable but not in the way. His thin fingers clicking away on the pale keys of his keyboard. His eyes hooded, eyebags deep.

“Honey,” I purr, “Have you found out all that you’ve needed to know? You’re investment in these other men are making me jealous.” I nip his earlobe softly, a warm feeling tickling my stomach when he shivers.

“Almost.” That is all he utters. His voice deep, like gravel. I look at the hood upon him, grimacing at the unwashed smell, then turn away and move towards the door.

“It’s not like we can do anything about it, dear.” I pat my hands across my thighs, wishing for once Oliver could see the beauty in front of him: me. But he’s always been invested in stupid shit like these “Judges of Man”. Why does he have to love serial killers; why can’t he love me like he loves his studies.

“I’m not going to do anything about it.” Oliver doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, a police report—that he hacked out of the system—open in front of him. “I will watch.”

I roll my eyes and huff, leaving the room in a furious silence. I shut the door behind me, not even realizing when I start to shake. My eyes start to warm and my throat stuffs up.

_How did I get myself like this? How did I?_

——

_(_💀

_I just want someone to help me make these new characters fleshed out. I can do it by myself but I really like talking and brainstorming with other people for a more diverse you’know. _

_Anyways, thanks for reading and have a great day!)_