Maggie's hopped on board with assisting me in writing this junk, so yay for inspiration! (apparently I just called my writing junk... woot)

Desmond was fifty-one years old. Normally, he wouldn't have really thought about his age, considering his inferiority complex, but it had been brought up rather violently a few days prior.

His emotions were awry.

He hadn't ever felt so low before, not even when his own father died twenty years beforehand. It was just another notch in his mind that he would store for later, though he never got to even think about it. But this was different than his father dying. This was directly pointed at him, and he couldn't get it out of his head.

Desmond was horribly imperceptive. Why would he about what happened to others when he was still kicking? Still fighting against those who opposed him, as he normally did. But how can you fight against someone who has the most obvious upper hand?

He hated the boy. Seth Clearwater, the son of Harry Clearwater.

Perhaps he only scorned the boy due to his heritage. If anyone suggested it, it would be right on the money. Desmond had grown up with Harry, though he was two years older than Seth's father. Desmond thought himself clever for always knowing more than Harry did, and took pride in the fact that Harry was just a little kid, eight, when they had met. He had completely outsmarted Harry in an instant, and Harry had cried, calling for his mother. (Do eight year olds cry for their mothers still?)

Desmond supposed that's when the inferiority complex began to form.

When Desmond was fourteen and Harry was twelve, the younger boy had hit a growth spurt, and shot up past Desmond. He wasn't all that strong, but did well in sports and his grades, much to Desmond's surprise. He was better than Desmond. That's all there was to it.

He presumed too much. He thought he could win Harry over, but that was most definitely flushed down the drain. Harry had a good head on his shoulders and wouldn't be coerced so easily. That's when Desmond began to actually hate him rather then when he just was miffed with him.

The hate was mutual.

Harry passed down his personality to his son, whom was innocent at the time and soaked up all the knowledge and traits without a second thought. But Seth was more of a free spirit than Harry had ever been, and he wasn't ignorant of that fact. Soon enough, Seth and Harry were opposites, one rebelling and the other controlling.

Seth's rebellious state only intensified with time. He figured himself above the rest of the teenage populous, and hell, even some of the adults. The hard-working adults.

None of them worked as hard as Desmond. Well, he thought so.

They may work hard, but that didn't mean they were intelligent. The monotony of the American Dream had gotten to them all when they were just adolescents, fueled by the desire to be somebody. Desmond reckoned that they all came from old fashioned parents who still believed that America was going somewhere. Perhaps now they'd see their mistake. Or, even better, would be too inattentive to notice, which was probable. Much more so than realizing their mistakes, surely.

Desmond hated the kid. Hated him more than Harry, more than his wife, more than his godforsaken children, more than his own conscience, more than everything. Seth had to be put in his place, as did all the ones who disobeyed the rules.

If Desmond could look back and see his own mistakes, then perhaps he would know why, in fact, he was put in his place for doing the same thing as Seth Clearwater –

Disobeying.

Bella hadn't been properly introduced to the boy she met in the forest three days aforementioned. Once she had gotten into the safety of her house, she was greeted by her father, whom was looking uncharacteristically frazzled, as most fathers would be if their daughters disappeared into the forest.

He'd never spoken his name, and she had forgotten to ask him. Given that she wasn't exactly... right in the head, it had slipped her mind completely, leaving her to wonder why he had even bothered to lead her back to security.

Granted, she thought the boy was a little... foolish for trusting someone he hadn't really known and found in a forest. But then again, he was a very well-proportioned kid, so she imagined that he really didn't have very many problems. With... the general population.

As soon as they began speaking, she had already begun disliking him.

She didn't like him anymore then than she did now.

"I don't even know your name," she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. "So I seriously doubt there's anything I have to do with your questions."

Seth appraised her, giving her imaginary points for her spunk, but was not amused. "All you have to do is listen, Kid."

"Once again, I have nothing to do with you. I'm more than thankful that you helped me the other day – most likely saving my life, but I can't just get into someone else's business when I know that I'm not wanted nor needed."

"Okay, whatever, I want you in my business, see?" he said, frowning at how that sentence came out. It sounded so much better in his head.

"No thanks," she shook her head and turned to Sam, "The position will be filled on Thursday, so you better get that filled out and turned in by tomorrow. My dad will be looking through all the applications, no matter how little or in between, so don't forget."

She turned on her heel and left, leaving Seth with narrowed eyes and a seething temper. Sam sighed loudly, patting Seth's shoulder mockingly.

"Good luck with that one."

Seth didn't even bother retorting, as he was halfway across the lawn, following her. He wasn't sure what had made him want to follow her, but it was settling uncomfortably in his mind, its limbs crawling around and adjusting itself. He at first wanted to resolve this feeling, this pulling of strings, but now he found that he enjoyed it. It was thrilling, almost like the hunt. He wanted more of it – more of this sadistic denial. It would only fuel his perspective, as most things did when they were rejected from his less than holy grasp.

It consumed him more than he would like to admit, but it was so savory.

His sinister tongue swiped across his teeth with the utmost approval, though he loathed it. He was being separated by his wants and his needs. They were spread out before him, taunting. He wanted to choose his wants, but knew that common sense had to play a strong factor in this battle. With an almost weary sigh, he stopped his pursuit and turned back to the house.

He was really losing his mind, wasn't he?

Don't bitch at me cuz the chapters are short. Would you rather have nothing? -initiate 'grr' mode- Oh, that's sexy.