I wrote this for the "One True Love Challenge" using a character Norman Reedus has played. I chose Mac because he has always been my favorite. And, even psychopath's need love. Don't they?

This is purely for entertainment purposes. I do not own the characters of Mac or Walter or anything to do with the movie 'Red Canyon.' I only own my imagination.

WARNING: For those of you who know Mac, enjoy this peak into his world. For those of you who do not, be warned Mac is a psychopath, deviant sex addict, as well as, a drug addict who equates violence and blood with a breath of fresh air. If that is not your thing, please don't read and you won't be offended.

Oasis in the desert

By Jennifer Bassin

In the desert, somewhere between no place and hell Mac stood outside his father's window unnoticed. The day had been hot enough to suck the life out of you, but Mac was a child of the desert and its extremes only made him feel more alive. The desert is beautiful, dangerously seductive and deadly. It will kill in the time it takes for a heart to beat and make you disappear without a trace in the next. Mac is beautiful like the desert, dangerously seductive, but he'll make you suffer as much possible before letting you die just because he can, and of course, because he likes it. He isn't your garden variety corner store serial killer. He doesn't kill because he has to, its mostly for fun and practical reasons. While he doesn't have any rituals Mac knows his deviant and violent sexual preferences are often best left unnoticed by the authorities. You could say imagination, creativity and variety are the spice of life for him. He preys on tourists or strangers passing through the tiny nondescript spec of a town where, he lives.

As Mac stood outside Walter's window he thought he'd had a lot of women, but this one was different. It fucked with his head and he wasn't even high. Deep in his tiny Grinch size heart dare he admit he felt something other than the lust to destroy? These feelings, that's what they where right? Feelings...shit, he was loosing it he thought. Some, okay, most who knew him would say he never had it, sanity or feelings. Fuck'em. They would be wrong on both counts. Scratching his balls and adjusting himself in his pants he thought, just because he wasn't like everyone else didn't mean he didn't feel or he wasn't sane. He felt, intensely, and what the fuck was sane anyway? Sanity is in the eye of the beholder he decided satisfied with his flip off to the rest of polite society. The women in town, well, no matter that he's rougher than they want or that he scares them, they keep coming back for more. So why is he the crazy one he wonders.

The real question at hand was what to do now that he found her. There was no doubt in his mind that she was special, that she was his and he didn't share. Especially not with his prick of a father. If the old bastard even was his father, he'd been wondering about that lately, but deep down he knew the truth. This apple didn't even fall out of the tree never mind falling far from it. Lighting a cigarette and shrugging off the need to get fucked up he stared through the window at the object of his desire.

How would her long silky straight hair feel sliding through his fingers? Would she like that? How would all that luxurious hair look with the desert breeze softly lifting strands of it. Breezes? What the FUCK is wrong with him he thought as he shook his head scowling. But, then he wondered about her skin. He never saw such perfect skin. The color and tone of it against her dark hair were mesmerizing, and those eyes. Damn! Those eyes were amazing. They hooked right into his black soul. He couldn't wait to look into those eyes up close where she could see him, then he'd make her love him.

That's it, he thought walking away from the window. Love? Him? Not a chance, love makes you weak he thought. Love gives someone the power to hurt you and he was always the one with the power. If he didn't have it he took it. But...he didn't feel afraid of her for some reason. He couldn't understand these conflicting feelings. Where was the lust, the rage, the anticipation of all the things he could do to her? Closing his eyes he relaxed and let his mind drift randomly through his favorite fantasies. He was hard in an instant picturing the last piece of pretty pussy he'd played with. Then he switched her into the place of the little blonde slut. Suddenly he couldn't breathe, he lost his hard on faster than if someone set his ass on fire. Opening his eyes with his heart pounding Mac squatted down before he fell down trying to catch his breath. Again, WHAT THE FUCK? After a few minutes of the here and now and no more fantasy land he began to feel better. He'd figure that shit out later, maybe he just needed to get high before introducing himself to her.

Why was she with his father? That truly bothered him more than anything. His hatred for Walter ran deep, almost as deep as his fear of the man. Daddy dearest was the only person Mac was afraid of. Think of the devil and here he is. Mac laughed quietly to himself as his father stomped out of his house slamming the door and getting into his car alone. Walter was getting old, loosing his edge. Mac planned a little diversion for this evening to get him out of the house. It was high time he took his lady home.

Well now, isn't this just fate or destiny Mac thought his lips curling up on one side in a semi grin. He walked back to the window and yes, she was still there. Then he wondered what it would be like if she loved him.. Could she love him? Would she? He sighed, Christ on a bloody stick, I'm making myself sick...just blow me already., he thought. But the idea wouldn't go away. Fuck it he thought as he strode to the front door and walked in as if he owned the place.

Once he was inside his confidence began to fade away and he felt like a little boy. Walking slowly towards her so as not to spook her his heart began to pound. Mac would remember this moment for the rest of his life. Every detail; the light making almost a halo around her pretty head; the smell of lavender, and the way she looked at him with those big beautiful eyes. Eyes that saw down to his very soul. Eyes just like his own. She was his mother after all. Walter always said he got his looks from her. With tears in his eyes, no longer ashamed since it was just the two of them alone, he said "lets go home mom."

Mac held her close and breathed in her scent as he gently kissed her. He picked up the perfectly preserved head of his mother and in her place left a note for his father. A torn piece of paper with Mac's blood spelling one word 'MINE'. As he carried the head, he murmured softly for her not to be afraid, that he would protect her and she wouldn't have to see his father ever again. Now that he had finally found her, he felt a sense of completeness. He no longer worried that she wouldn't love him. Mac strode confidently out of his father's house, got into his truck, placed the head of his mother on the seat beside him and drove home humming to himself in contentment.

The desert night seemed different to Mac as he drove home with his mom at his side. The desert air felt clearer, sharper, fresh, and full of hope. Hope that his father would come for his mother and he could finally kill him. Oh, the plans he had for killing his father. He'd been dreaming and planning for this since he was 10 years old. It was the one thing that made him feel anything close to happiness, just the thought of it. He'd thought of skinning him alive, but was concerned the man wouldn't survive long enough. Mac wanted his father to suffer, and suffer, and then suffer some more before dying and going to hell. Mac paused for a moment. Hell, while Walter certainly belonged there he worried the ass would like it, or take the fuck over. He'd begun reading up on some medications, medical equipment and techniques he could use to keep the bastard alive while he tore him apart piece by bloody piece. "Don't worry mom, you can watch if you want to. I'm gonna make him pay for hurting you too." he said turning his attention back to her.

Back at his own shitty little house he cleared a spot for the head, got himself a beer and sat down on the couch facing her smoking a joint. Even though he talked to her Mac knew she couldn't hear him, he wasn't some fucking pussy asshole like Norman Bates. But, he'd never got to talk to her when she was alive so he improvised. Problem solving was his forte after all.

Closing his eyes Mac contemplated these new overwhelming cacophony of feelings. He suddenly felts a rush of euphoria realizing that his mother didn't abandon him. That she didn't leave him behind because she didn't love him, or didn't want him. In a split second Mac is filled with an icy rage at his father for taking his mother away from him and lying to him his whole life. Walter had blamed him for his mother leaving when the truth was his father had killed her while Mac was just a baby.

Mac finally understood why loving mom is safe. She can't hurt him, judge him, or leave him. All she could do was love him as long as he took care of her. With an epiphany, he knew he had no sexual feelings for her. That's why there was no rage, no lust to destroy or kill her. Contemplating all he can and will do to all the women he takes in the future makes him so hard it hurts. Now he knows he won't ever fall in love, he won't care for another woman. He's safe. Oh the things he's going to do he thought as a full blown smile crossed his handsome face. That ridiculous song 'these are a few of his favorite things' flits through his brain, and he almost chokes on his beer as he laughs out loud.

The irony of Mac's mother's suffering the same pain, torture and death at the hands of his father that he deals out to his own sexual conquests is completely lost on him.

Mac gets another beer and adds some meth to his next joint. He is no longer worried about these new and unfamiliar feelings.

He'd found his one true love, mom. Love...oasis or mirage?

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