Author's notes:

I hate this chapter. That's it. Seriously, I do.

Chapter three.

Dylan Massett

She's not the prettiest I've had, and she's not the most interesting, but she has a tint of sweetness and innocence, enough to distinguish her from the rest of the whores.

It was when I heard her crying that I became interested in her. Nevertheless, not interested enough to stop my daily activities- or to take the initiative to look for this girl.

I was a bit worried when I found her talking to Norman. A little bit. Partially because she can look 12 years old at times, and 12 years old really is too young for me. I decided to pay her a little visit, which turned out better than I hoped.

She also managed to read me, and no one has been able to for ages. You smile a lot. But I don't think it's real. So in turn, I insulted her, which she managed to brush off. I know she hurts, and I know because it would have hurt me too. But she smiles at me and pretends she's not affected.

To her, I'm her customer and even if I piss her off, there's nothing she can do about it.

I want to see it. I want to see her angry and blow up at me.

I don't like her; I just like messing with her. There are certain differences between interest in breaking a character and being interested with someone. I don't think many people can tell the difference.

I want to see her unravelling.

And it may seem like I'm fucking psycho, but there's no wrong in trying to look past layers of masks.

When I arrive home (should I call it that? I'm not welcome there), I sit on the front porch and smoke a cigarette, rearranging my thoughts. Norman comes and sits by me, even though there's a little bit of him that hates me for coming in and ruining their picture perfect life.

I ask him what he's so worried about, and he ends up telling me the whole story. Keith Summers, Zack Shelby… everything. Norma is unbalanced. Norman needs to be taken away from her. She's completely mental and unstable.

So I told him I would help him.

He says thank you. He's never said thank you to me.

His phone rings, and he smiles as he looks at the phone.

'Is that a girl?' I ask. He nods, and I continue. 'Is she pretty? Do you like her?'

He looks over at me, with a small shit-eating grin on his face.

'Text her right now and tell her you're coming over,' I say nonchalantly.

'What? I can't do that she just said hey!'

'Sure you can.'

Well, she doesn't want me to come over.'

I roll my eyes. 'Girls don't text you at ten o'clock at night because they don't want you to come over,' I inform him. 'Okay? Trust me, I got laid when I was twelve.'

He laughs and I smile a little. 'Okay, just…text her.'

He looks a little disturbed, but punches in the words. 'I can't believe I just did that. I've never done that.'

I roll my eyes again and take a sip of my beer, and then his phone rings again. I pick it up to take a look. 'She says cool. My parents are asleep, you can come over.'

A moment passes. He stares at me eyes wide open and in disbelief. 'I can't do that, that's crazy.'

I roll my eyes at him, and stare at him. And I realise that Brooklyn is right. I do stare at people when I talk. 'It's the only thing that's not crazy right now, okay? Be a seventeen year old for five minutes, come on, go and have fun.'

He looks unsure. 'Right now?'

'Yeah, right now.'

I groan when he hesitates. 'She's waiting for you, dumbass! Come on, leave!'

He stands up, but looks at me uncertainly. 'Go!' I prompt him, smiling at his inexperience.

He gives me a smile, and walks away from the house.

I watch him off, and for some reason in my mind, I put him together with Brooklyn, and I compare them two.

I'm not stupid. I know she was forced into the job, and I was her first (and second) customer. She doesn't even know how to fuck like a hooker, and she's still insulted by the term. In a way, she's actually innocent. Definitely too trusting- enough for me to steal her number the first time I went into her house.

Norman is just... naïve. They are alike in ways, but not exactly the same. She seems desperate to prove something, and he's just... He just doesn't know what to do.

I finish the cigarette, and crush it on the sole of my shoes.

That's the night Norma gets arrested.