There it was again. That itch, the itch that government protocols and very strait jackets prevents you from scratching.

In some futile motion, I scrunched up my nose in attempt to relief my discomfort. Seeing that this would not relieve the itch I smashed my face into the cushiony walls and proceeded to drag my countenance down till I was on my knees.

"Troublesome", I murmured into the white pillows my padded cell. I flopped back onto the floor of my asylum room.

The small things in life that we take for granted always come back to bite us in the ass when they aren't there. Like the freedom to move our bodies. Specifically, scratch our noses.

Or to dream of the small comforts that make us feel just as little bit human.

Well, maybe not, because right now I'm dreaming of that black lace. But, I guess that's what happens when you try to think deep in a cell that's only 7 feet tall.

"You're fired."

My boss' mystic magenta tie almost conveys the same hue of the pink slip that he's handing me now. I continue to stare right through him. I can tell he is talking to me because his bottom lip is quivering up and down with a thick slab of saliva coating the flesh. And, I bet I could make his pale mouth look just as pink as the slip if I feed him a complimentary knuckle sandwich. He slams his pudgy hand on what use to be my desk.

"Look, Shikamaru, this is what I'm talking about! I pay you to focus, to think of business strategies, not to frolic in La-la land! I mean, what are you even thinking about?!" He stares at me with beady marbles clearly expressing that he is expecting an answer.

"I was just pondering the vast expanses of human contact."

The peeved look on my bosses' face is quickly dropped at thought of his deprived textile. He smirked and let out a "knowing" chuckle. "Hn, Shikamaru, save those thoughts for after hours." He winks. I scoff. Pig.

I frowned at his clear innuendo. Here I was trying to share a keen observation on the vast varieties of human touch and he turns it into a conversation on a Simeon desire.

I let out exasperated sigh. Troublesome.

I shifted my gaze upon his countenance and said, "For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of th' unworthy takes. Well: quoth the raven but Nevermore."

For the record, I don't normally speak this way, I'm not some fruit loop, I'm merely being pretentious.

My boss screwed up his features in expected confusion.

"What are you saying, Shikamaru?"

I removed my hands from my linty pockets and place them on the desk leaning forward to give my boss the indication that he has my undivided attention.

"I said that how an idiot like you is a boss to a man like me is completely terrifying. That I must suffer under your watch so that I can keep this god awful measly paycheck. Laugh at jokes that sound like you got them off the wrapper of a Willy Wonka Laughy-taffy candy and smile with big rosy cheeks, when all I want to do is staple your mouth shut so I don't have to breathe in your stale coffee breath!"

At this point, I'm pretty much screaming.

I leaned back, took a deep breath ,and adjusted my tie. "One last thought before I complete my graceful exit: When should I be expecting my check?"

I could feel the skin on my cheek grate against the sediment of the sidewalk and the impression of the security guards boot on my ass. I'm pretty sure that the answer to that question is never.

"Oh shit, Shikamaru, what the hell happened to your face?!"

I had just shut the front door and my father was already fussing over me like I was a kid back from the first day of school. Troublesome. Next thing I know he'll be blotting my face with a napkin wet with neutering spit.

Fiddling with the lock I greeted him with a non-sarcastic, "Hello, father, so nice to see you. Thank you-". I turned around to hang up my coat only to be slapped in the face with a napkin saturated with antibacterial ointment.

"Dad!"

"Hush up", he said dabbing my torn flesh,"I'm just sterilizing the cut so it doesn't get infected."

He moved away, motioning for me to hold the napkin to my cheek, and accompany him to the kitchen table.

I sat down in the seat that he pulled up for me. Knitting his brows in concern he started,"Shika...".

I held my free hand up effectively silencing him so that I may get the telling of this news over with as painlessly as possible.

"Dad, look, I got fired today-".

"What?! What the hell happened?!"

My calm look dropped into one of annoyance. "Let me finish. He expressed to me that my insubordinate attitude and constant daydreaming was hurting the company's bottom line. When he started his nagging pig act, I told him my viewpoint on the situation which ended with a dropkick and a face full of sidewalk."

My dad abruptly pushed away from the table noisily scraping his chair against the floor and turned his back to me hands placed on the kitchen bench top.

He pounded his fists on the tiles and yelled, " This is the second job already, Shikamaru! You need to move on from your mother's death, dammit!" Oh, this is turning out to be such a drag.

And the elephant in the room roars. It was all laid out in the open now. The wedge that's been keeping us passing like two ships in the night: my sour attitude and cynical viewpoint that had only ripened further with her death and my father was left with the aftertaste.

But, by now my cool had melted in his heated tone. "It's only been three months! How the hell did you get over it so fast, huh, dad?!"

He let out a dry chuckle and scoffed. "Long therapy sessions with Dr. Samuel Adams." He pointed over to the case of empty bottles.

"Well, not everyone can suck on a beer bottle and find solace. I can't just blur the memories!"

My dad spun around to meet my gaze and growled, "No ones asking you to forget her as the woman she was but, you can't let her drag you down six feet under! And, not everyone who nags you, not all those people of authority who are flexing their power, are trying to fill your mother's place! Shit, Shikamaru, act like a man already and if you can't handle authority than you'd better step up and be your own boss."

He turned back, around grabbed the latest bottle he was neutering, and stormed up the stairs. I heard the door slam.

Choji's restaurant has a neon "no smoking" sign right on the front door and I know Ino would have a fit if she saw the chimney I was puffin'. But, hot damn, I didn't care. The envious looks the other patrons were sending my way only fueled my fire.

The young bartender was shooting me a curious gaze as if she didn't quite know how to approach the situation. It must have been the manliness that was surely rolling of my body in waves. I took a drag of my cigarette.

I had taken my dad's reproach last night to heart. It may have been the most intelligent advice he has ever uttered. But, I wouldn't really know because I only listen when he yells. Though, I knew that if I wanted to relieve myself of this slump I would have to take back the steering wheel on my life. Be my own man.

The bartender plastered on a smile and swayed over to me at the end of the counter. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

I took the cancer stick out of my mouth making a big show of holding her gaze with half-lidded eyes and blowing smoke out my nostrils. Than from her grip, I snatched the shot glass that she was wiping off and threw it on the ground.

At the top of my lungs I screeched on a few octaves lower, "Yes, you can announce the arrival of the True Man of the 21st century Shikamaru Nara!" I flexed my biceps.

The feeling of crumbs falling on my face awoke me from my slumber. I sat up, blinking away the last remnants of sleep I smacked my lips together tasting my foul morning breath. Ew...

I turned toward an expected sight: my best friend Choji. He grabbed a fistful of chips and said, "Good mornin', Shikamaru. And, er, I love you, man, but you need to get going. You look like something the cat dragged in and reek of cigarettes." He wrinkled his nose to emphasize the point. "You'd better leave before Ino comes in and has a bitch fit."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Troublesome. I definitely don't think I can handle that sight this early in the morning. Just let me... collect myself and I'll be out of your hair."

The whole time I was speaking, Choji had a look as though he wanted to say something. Being that we are childhood friends, I wasn't surprised that he did.

"I was watching you all last night, Shikamaru. And I'm... worried I-".

I shook my head and told him to "Stop". "Don't you start nagging me too."

He grew a bit sheepish and nodded. "Hey, Choji, it's ok. I'm just going to head out now." I grabbed my jacket from the lounge chair, threw a wave over my shoulder, and submitted my weary retinas to the burning sun of early morning.

The distance from Choji's restaurant to my house is quite a hike for any man. Especially, a man with a hangover. So the city park with all it's green lush trees was like a mirage. A safe haven to rest my feet or puke my insides out.

I continued to stumble forward until I made it to a bench shaded beneath a tree. I loosened the American noose that was fastened tight around my neck and flopped my head back. I craned my neck in this position till it hurt, than stayed for another few minutes, until I tilted my head forward in motion to search my jacket for another cigarette.

I grabbed the stick and drupped it from lips while I took my lighter out. With my lit cigarette, I let the taste of nicotine line my tongue and watched the smoke dance in front of my vision.

I took the light from my mouth to tap the ashes from the end and in doing so the haze in front of my eyes cleared and I was met by two brown orbs.

We stared at each other, her and me, drinking each other in. She had an ovalur face, tan skin, and long, dark lashes. She, suddenly, wrinkled her nose and snarled her red lips in a screw face and turned from me. I figured my hunkiness must have been too much for her.

But, I stayed looking at her. She was bent over, cleaning up litter with a trash picker-upper. Her body tapered in and out in just the perfect places, although, it was hard to tell due to her baggy clothes. Black converse, large gray cargos, and a black hoodie that fit just a bit snugger all topped off with a big orange trash bag that lay across her shoulder. The clear sign of a convict doing community service. Which she made look incredibly sexy.

She stood up, back still turned to me, when I noticed her peculiar hair style. Two perfectly symmetrical buns pulled tight across each side of her head. Like the kind of style that you would find on a young girl jumping rope not a criminal working up a sweat to shave off the hours of their punishment.

My eyes began to surf down the rest of her waves when I felt a large object fly past my head and stake in the tree behind me. I turned around and saw that it was the tool that the girl was using to pick up trash sharp end embedded into the tough bark. Oh shit.

I turned back to face my perpetrator. All of a sudden, she was but two feet away garbage bag thrown carelessly on the ground. Didn't she know she was going to have to clean that up?

Before I could pursue any coherent thoughts further, she was climbing onto my lap, the collar of my shirt gathered into her fist.

"You got a problem with your eyes or are you just a creep?" Her own orbs were narrowed in deep suspicion. Up close, her eyes had a gray tint and were outlined with gold. Are they swirling or is that my head?

I must have looked pretty stupid because the expression only face made her smirk. She plucked the cigarette from my mouth and took a long drag releasing the grip on my shirt and settling down further into my lap.

Looking content, she said,"Sheesh. I haven't had a great ciggy in a long time. In the joint, all those inmates have is the cheap shit."

I knew right now I looked like a dope, not a man with a glint in his eye so tough it makes women swoon. So relaying on my intelligence, I tried to think of something witty to say. "Your an ex convict working out your punishment with community service and you attempt homicide on a stranger?" Wow. That sounded lame. What a drag.

The girl takes my cigarette from her mouth and artfully taps the ashes off on my shoulder, as to not burn me, but ruin my pristine white shirt.

She smirks again. "You need a little dirtiness, goodie-two-shoes. You've got a girl on your lap and that's all you can say? And if you are so worried about that, I must let you know that I definitely wasn't trying to kill you. I never miss." She giggled before continuing, "I'm, also, not an ex-convict, my heart is in running with the wild side. This is just a temporary mishap and pain in the ass detour. And I plan on ending it right now before I get caught talking to you, Mr. Goody-two-shoes."

She stood up, put in the cigarette in my open mouth, and began making her way across the lawn. Than, it hit me that she had insulted my pride multiple times.

"H-hey! I'm no goody-goody! I'm a real man!"

I could hear her laughter till she was nothing more than a black spot on the vast green lawn.

She had become a pebble in my shoe. Every time I took a step, I could feel her. I thought of her constantly. Her dynamite body, her smirk, and the way that she moved to her calling. Her metaphorical drum. You see she met me at a very strange time in my life.

I noticed my dad giving me queer looks questioning the pep in my step and the way my eyes look all "daydreamy" when I imagined the feel of her body.

I'm not any shallow Hal, though. I loved her because of what she was, still is. She was what I was trying to obtain for myself, my goal, in a pleasing tangible form.

She was the catalyst that would set me on the path to my goal. Toward nirvana, my angel. I prayed to see her again.

I yawned and got up from the chair I was pondering in. My dad gave me that quizzical look but I payed him no attention. He stayed out of my business and I didn't add to his already depressing life. I grabbed my jacket and prepared to take an evening stroll. Everyone knows badasses only go out at night.

I stepped outside with the intention of landing myself in the middle of a brawl because I didn't want to die without a few scars. What I wasn't expecting was a shiny sports car to screech to a halt right in front of me as I was crossing an intersection.

The tires kicked up a black fog of burned rubber and the door swung open.

"Hey, -two-shoes, why don't you hop your ass in and I'll take you for a joy ride?" I knew the voice instantly and when the smoked cleared she was there again.

I stumbled forward into the car as she yelled for me to shut the door not even waiting to speed through the red light.

"I think I lost the cops. They were on me like white on rice." She checked the rear view window for good measures.

"What-what did you steal?" I was curious as to what this heist was about. "Did you rob a bank for hundreds of dollars?"

I could read the amusement on her face before she even let out a laugh. "Hundreds of dollars? What would I need hundreds of dollars for?" She let go of the steering wheel and with one hand dug into the bag that lay at our side. " I stole socks. I stole socks because I needed socks. That's called practicality. You never flaunt badassness just because. Than you aren't living for yourself. Than you are trying to impress others."

I gawked at the wisdom that came from my little sprite. It was simply logical. I decided I should write a book called, "How to find your own beat" and dedicate it to her. But, I realized I didn't know her name.

"Um, I was wondering what your name was."

"You can call me Tenten."

Fitting name for a heavenly woman. "Just Tenten? No last name?"

At the mention of a surname, her face screwed up in anger. "Who the hell needs a last name!?" I cringed at her tone surprised by her sudden outburst. I found myself sinking back into the passenger's seat. I hope she doesn't think I'm a drag now...

She looked at me in my shamefully pathetic position and her face softened a bit. "I mean what's in a name? That which we call shit by any other name would smell just as stank."

Her joke lightened my mood and I really smiled. Oh, baby, I love your wit.

I, then, realized that she has been impressing me since the moment meet. Constantly, sweeping me off my feet like a broom and I was but a dust bunny lucky to be carried in her gust. Though, I knew one thing that turned her on and that was badassery.

"My name is Shikamaru Nara."

I put the stress on my last name hoping that she would make the connection between me and the infamous gang of the 90's lead by my dad.

Sometimes, he would steal away in the night and move about in his hideout where he and his crew would make opium and control trafficking of all kinds. My dad had lead this secret life till I was about five, which is when my mom found out and nearly castrated him in the process. Or so the rumors fly during family reunions. He later "disbanded the gang" but, I was never really sure of this because there would be bouts of time in which he was missing on "business trips" and would come home sweaty and scratched up. My dad was quite the man and let's just say I'm pretty sure that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

But, the mention of my surname did not elicit the reaction in which I was anticipating. She merely grunted and continued whipping down the road. So, I emphasized.

"You see, since you love all things hardcore, I thought you'd make the connection that my dad was the ring leader of the famous Nara gang."

I could practically hear her eyes stretch open wide at the new found information. I turned toward her to find her usually smug countenance hold an impending look of astonishment. Maybe of worship. Now, I was wearing the self-satisfied smile.

Oh yeah, Shikamaru, way to impress the ladies... with your dad. Er. Of course my mind had to look to deep into shit. Damn, my insufferable intelligence. Here it goes spoiling my celebration. Troublesome.

I turned from her big brown gawk and once again sunk back into the white leather seat letting out a dry cough. What a freakin' drag that idea turned out to be.

She, suddenly, swirled the steering wheel parking the car in a dirty nearby alley. My head bobbing along with the motion of the interior slamming into the passenger window.

I rubbed my abused cranium.

"Why do you always look so insecure?"

Her question caught me by surprise. No one ever cared enough to ask how I felt about living in my body, living with a mind that analyzed every single detail till it made you hate whatever you were inspecting. Hee. Not that she would even have the slightest clue that I was intelligent since I always come off as a babbling idiot. I guess my wits just fry up in her fiery glare.

But now, she was giving me a look to express that the question was not rhetorical.

I turned from her eyes, lest I lose myself, and looked out the window up at the passing clouds.

Cloud watching was a habit that I picked up at the office. When I had too much on my mind, I stared at the clouds. Each one moved so fast that I didn't have enough time to dissect them till I loathed their existence.

Being careful of the ever-growing bump, I rested my head on the window. What was I suppose to say? That my mom's death slapped me off the road I was taking? That my dad's words set me on a new path and that she would be my savior? Yes, I would have said all this had it not been for the fact that when I turned to address her, she was currently in the process of unzipping her hoodie finally revealing her lacy black bra. Jumpin' Jehovaspaht.

Suddenly, her eyes locked on to mine and I lost perception of distance, until, I felt the weight of her lithe body, once again, in my lap. Oh my.

Her lips were gliding over mine and it felt like I was eating ice cream. Cool and so infinitely soft. Her hands were in my hair, in my shirt, and, than, in my pants as she whispered in my ear what a man I truly was.

I guess the first troublesome mistake I made was thinking that I could have her. Truly have all of her. My mind knew that she was but a mist smoke that left a trail from my cigarette born from the ashes that fell into my lap. My heart, however, continued to place a rose colored filter on my thoughts.

This was the first time that my emotions won over my logical mind. And I ended up breaking. Dumb ass feelings. Love is a drag.

My last and most devastating mistake was bringing her home. Her car was cramped and our passion was getting wild. I was ravenous for touch. Thirsty for her body. I guess I was addicted.

And, she was far and few in between. Due to her warrant and criminal status, she was constantly on the move.

On a day that I was feeling exceptionally deprived, I moved to push her into submission, you see she is quite feisty, and ended up hitting her head on the steering wheel.

She yelped out of surprise and a small malignant bump sprouted from her cranium. I could tell she was about to crack me one lovely in return when I nervously suggested we continue our fury at my house.

Her expression quickly changed exclaiming affectionately what a clumsy cheese ball I am while asking for the directions to my house.

My dad worked as a librarian and made a steady paycheck that came every two weeks. I knew he was at work now so, when I stepped inside the house with her, both of us looking thoroughly tousled, and my dad was sitting at the table drinking Chai tea, I was more than surprised. I was furious.

He didn't even greet me. He looked right past me over at the girl who was preparing to unzip her hoodie once more and said, "Well, what do we have here?"

She looked up from her task, black lace peeking through, to address the deeper drawl. Her eyes widened in surprise before she lowered her lids and coyly smiled. My dad was practically salivating. Freakin' troublesome.

I lunged forward ripping the magazine from my dad's grasp and threw it on the floor. "What are you doing home, dad?" I growled my greeting through clenched teeth.

"I was reading my magazine until you so rudely snatched it. Where are your manners, son, you still haven't introduced me to your friend over there."

My eyes were practically bulging out their sockets. "First, she's not a friend she's my girlfriend." So, stop being a dirty old man. "Second, who the hell are you to judge my etiquette when you have obviously been lying about being a librarian. How do you plan to explain that god damn check that "comes in the mail" every other week!? Or do I smell dirty money!?" I swear my eyeballs were about to spontaneously combust.

My outburst didn't effect him at as as he continued to leisurely stroke his goatee. "Shikamaru, don't be such a drag we can discuss that matter over dinner tonight. Have a seat." He pointed to the adjacent chair before standing up from his own. "Please, miss, have a seat, too."

From my hunched over position on the table, I watched her sasha her hips to my dad's offered proposition. The lecherous look my dad was giving her made me throw up in my mouth. Literally. I left them in my rage and stormed off to the bathroom.

As I slammed the door shut, I could hear my dad say, "Oh, he's always been a suck-face. I thought he would grow out of it with a little encouragement and time. I first saw it during all the times I'd beat him in Shoji..."

I was disgusted. So, disgusted that I felt dirty. I reached over the porcelain sink for the mouthwash hopefully, to rinse my taste buds clean of last night's dinner. Troublesome.

I swirled the wash around feeling it slip between my teeth. I pondered as to why my dad was doing... this.

Taking advantage of the fact that my girl looks up to him. Not many people look up to him. He has the air of a man who baths in beer and showers in vodka. He hasn't shaven in days and dresses in a muscle tee and sweats that hand dangerously low on his hip bones.

He's got nothing to live for because I'm just a drag piece of shit, anyway. Now, this beautiful young thang is coming on to him eyeing him like he should be on a poster above her bed and he is loving it.

Bent over the sink staring deep into the face that I call my own but wish wasn't, I could sense the chemistry between the two of them fly off into electric waves and slither under the bathroom door.

Something inside me snapped. Like a thin wire coated in cheap plastic I couldn't handle the high voltage that shot through me. My usually cool mask melted. I was never one for conflict, you see it's quite troublesome, but something about the fact that the man I call my dad would act so vile ,like scum that people want to wipe on a doormat, caused me to snap. I began to see red. I could feel myself lose touch with any conscience any type of reality and I lashed out at the nearest object. The tile wall.

Before I knew it, my tender flesh connected with the incredibly hard surface. The pain that ruptured all the nerves in my hand crumbled the blind rage that blocked my common sense and I yelped out in pain before gracefully tumbling flat on my ass.

My head hit the rim of the toilet and I had to curl up in fetal position and forcefully suck back a couple tears.

"Hot damn, Shikamaru. Sounds like a nuclear bomb is going' off in there. Are you ripping yourself a new one?" My dad's voice seeped through the pine door her bubblegum giggles mixed in.

God, Dad, I'm in the middle of a tear over here.I rolled onto my other side and mumbled a "troublesome" into the dingy bathroom rug.

I mentally prepared myself to face her again. I slowly rose from my crumpled heap and physically prepared myself by pushing a few loose hairs back into my ponytail. As I stared into the mirror I took note of the ever growing bump on the side of my head. It was quite noticeable. What a drag. How the hell am I suppose this hide this knot?

It looked like I was about to undergo asexual reproduction and sprout a mini me. And that was not very manly.

I looked for a towel to wrap around my head but realized that my lazy ass dad didn't do the laundry. Before I started cursing his name I took note of my other option: the bathroom rug. Hee. I'm quite a resourceful man.

I let my shoulder length hair from its tight ponytail and bent over to pick up the rug. I carefully wrapped it around my head in a turben style and let a few strands of hair hang loose as to give me the "sexy-mussy" look. I know she likes a squeaky clean man with a dirty heart.

I opened the bathroom door and prepared to make my entrance. I walked out with my best impression of the model scowl but, she wasn't even facing me. She was leaning on her elbows attention totally divulged by whatever pee pee caca my dad was saying.

Oh what a drag. All this preparation and negative results. I'm still a lazy man and doing all that planning for this was quite disheartening.

I let my body fall to my normally hunched over position as a sigh slip through the slits in my teeth. My dad stopped talking and looked in my direction his eyes grew big with amusement before they closed slightly and his lips formed a tight smile. I could tell he was trying not laugh. I screw faced him.

With my dad's attention now on me, she momentarily stopped divulging in his vulgar presence and turned to face me. Her eyes surfed my long thin body before settling on my make shift towel.

She gave me her delicious smirk and said, "I gotta cut out. I just got a call from the taijutsu leader of the gang "The Rocks". He told me that our all-seeing friend spotted the cops making their way up to this house."

She rose, my dad along with her, and moved to our kitchen window. "I'll slip out here."

With one leg out the window she looked my way and winked. "See ya." She hit the green grass like a cat and leaped the fence.

To no one in particular I commented, "Such a silly woman escaping through a troublesome window. The house has a back door."

From behind me my dad chuckled, I'd almost forgot he was there I was so enthralled in watching her body run, and he said, "She is not some silly woman, Shikamaru, you are just ignorant to the ways of a criminal."

I whipped my head around metaphorical daggers creating precise lacerations deep into his skin. "First off, no one was talking to you and for your information, dad, I've taken out several books on criminal study which I've been tirelessly studying to better understand my girlfriend." Emphasis on my. "Not that you would know since you haven't been working at the library."

My dad made no comment. I stomped forward to decrease the radius of my death stare. After a few seconds my dad looked up at me and drawled, "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you talking to me now?"

I knew he was pushing me. Plucking my last nerve like a single string instrument. As much as I wanted the anger to take over, I let my logical mind regain control. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not to mention the throbbing pain still emanating from my fist courtesy of my earlier outburst.

We were playing a game of dictional Shoji. Our words were the pieces. Our syntax the moves. I was going to use my powerful mind to form coherent and delicately worded sentences. I am going to win this game.

"You were acting like a troublesome creep, Dad." This sentence summarized how I felt about his actions with just a dust of sugar-coating on my true anger. I crossed my arms over my chest.

My dad chuckled into his cold chai tea. "Shikamaru, what are you talking about? I was simply talking to your friend to assess her as a person. We are both analytical people and I just needed to check her out to make sure that she is good for my boy."

I could've swore he just batted his eyes at me. He was playing the loving father card with a dash of Bambi-eyed innocence. I said nothing but scowled to let him know he did not get off that easily. Sometimes, it is best to play from a defensive stance, not show them your hand, and see where they take the game.

He looked back into his tea. "I hope that you did not take my teasing seriously. Even though you are lazy, you've always been a sensitive young man and every time you've been down I was always here to help you regain your sense of worth."

I shifted my weight to my other foot deeply studying his move. Changing the subject from his bad behavior to my troublesome lack of self-esteem was smart. Even though I didn't let it show in my face this topic is sort of a sore spot for me. Still, I steeled my mask and moved to press on. I saw past the game. I saw through him. This was it.

"So-".

But before I could go in for any sort of kill, he chopped my sentence short as he rose from his seat and said, "I'm quite tired. This old man is going to lay down for a while." He quickly dumped his chai tea down the sink and swiped a bottle of beer. Before I could even protest, I heard his bedroom door slam. What a damn drag.

I stood frozen on the spot staring at his recently vacated seat suspiciously till I could hear his lumberjack snore.

Well played, dad, Exit: Strategy One.

That Sunday was the last day in which I saw her and my dad for a month. Well, my dad may have been around but, I didn't notice. I was too busy raking down the streets to find her. I needed her.

In the last week of that month, I would find myself getting hammered at shady bars in some useless attempt to close the troublesome hole left open to infection because she was no longer there to fill the lesion. I cried.

When I drink, I have no control over my emotions. My logical mind keeps all those irrational feelings in check and alcohol hinders my brain. Alright, I'm actually a walking sad sack.

On the last night, I made my way to Choji's bar maybe in search of some familiarity.

Choji watched from a far as I took to drowning out my sorrows. But, after about my 23rd shot, he waddled on over my way laided his arm across my back and told me it was safer if I made my way home now rather than when it was dark. Choji walked me to the door face me with a smile and whispers in my ear that everything would be alright.

It was the first time in all our friendship that he had ever lied to me.

With Choji's empty words still rattling in my head, I shuffled toward home. I reached the house at about four in the afternoon so, I knew that my dad should have been at the library. His shoes strewn in the living room floor told me different. Troublesome lazy bum.

I called out his name and was met with the echo of my own voice. Making my way upstairs, I mentally rehearsed the fight I was about to start. Start with the false occupation, accuse him of banding the gang together, criticize his excessive drinking and lack of hygiene, nag him on his uselessness...

There was a time in my life when avoiding arguments, and other strenuous activities, was the only worthwhile action I'd partake in. Now, I like the fights. The way people's countenances contort in rage. Not only is the act humorous but it provides me with the mental stimulation needed so as my brain doesn't get mushy. It was like playing my favorite game just with a lot more bang.

I pushed open his bedroom door and sighed. He wasn't there I presumed he must be in the shower.

Making my way to my room, a small smile graced my lips at the thought sleeping off this hangover. I swung open the door to my room and expected to breath in the smell of air freshener and clean laundry but, I didn't. My olfactory picked up on a smell even more pleasing. Her wrapped in the scent of afternoon sex. I almost kept my eyes closed just to wafer in the familiar air till my brain started clicking and the gears weren't fitting.

My eyes shot open and there on my computer chair was my delicious pixie with her long legs wrapped around my dad. She sat on his groin, breast still wrapped in that lacy black bra. Her chest was pressed against my dad's his naked but sweats still dancing in his waist. Neither of them made a sound.

I let out a choking sob as I took in the coy look in her haunting face. She studied me through the shade of her bangs. If I saw her eyes I might've lost myself on the spot.

Something in my legs gave out and I moved to support myself on my dresser drawers. My throat constructed and I inhaled only through short gasps. A heat seemed to concentrate in my ears. I made the mistake of looking into face. The sweaty matte texture of my skin and those pathetic beady eyes disgusted me. I looked away and into a face that looked eerily similar to mine.

My dad he looked so sorry. So sorry that I had caught him. Something was breaking. Something was already broken. The red that I felt in my ears slowly began to creep into the corners of my eyes. I was going to wipe that miserable hideous face off the earth so no one who have the dishonor of looking at it again.

I could hear my teeth cracking from the veracity in which I was grinding them. My hand made for the gun that I had taken from my father a while back.

Something hot began to stream down my cheeks as I wiped out the .45. She rolled off his lap like a ball of yarn. He had the audacity to look betrayed.

Before, I knew it I was screaming. "I should be the one that feels betrayed!" I ended that sentence with a bang and the bullet broke the steamed up window.

I always thought I'd be a better shot but, the anger confused my perception and the tears blurred my vision. I fired again and this time it clipped his ear. The piece of cartilage fell on my bed as blood began to seep through his fingers his face contorted in pain. He let out a grunt that synchronized with the third shot that I fired, this one hitting it's intended target. The left side of his face blew off in a mess of gore and flesh.

I made sure that the rest of my round did not got to waste as I lodged them in his chest.

I fired blanks for god knows how long until my hand cramped and the gun fell to the floor. From somewhere to my right, I heard my little sprite begin to let out a manic laughter and sometime later my own crackled voice mixed in.

Leading up this point now, the rest of my misadventures have been quite a blur. I remember her and I getting bent over separate police cars, the bright red and blue lights illuminating her desirable contours.

I haven't seen her since that night but, I imagine her to have escaped already. No cage could hold that bird.

I found myself being sweep up into the fine piece of work known as the justice system. I met my lawyer and we spent our time perfecting the acting of a madman. explained to me that I had a fighting chance of being let off easy if I played the temporary insanity card. I simply heard that I may have the chance of seeing her again.

But for now, I spend my hours laying flat on the floor of my cell. Sometimes the nurses come in a check my pulse to see if I'm still alive.

It's just that the cushions of this cell remind me of the white leather seats in that stolen car when me and her first became one and the cracks in the ceiling paint beautiful pictures of memories not far gone and maybe to be lived again.