Bonfire...

God, it's all going up in flames. I really do not want to finish writing Taking Nicky. It's a fight to keep myself working on it. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I started it as a distraction from what was going on with my brother, and now that he's gone, it reminds me too much of that horrible few weeks.

I just know I've said I'd finish it and I really try to keep my promises, even to my characters...but this bitch ain't happening. 

I mean, it's working that way in the story, too. Rett's at a point where he's slapped with some truth when Vance asks him the following question:

“Okay...and what did you plan to do with him once you were done with him?” 

That question hit hard. Having it so bluntly asked shut my brain down, for a moment. I’d planned to keep Nicky blindfolded, sure, so he wouldn't see me. And didn't know me. And I figured I was well-versed enough in handling...oh...men who were uncertain about their own possibilities to get him off and fuck him. 

But Vance had very casually alluded to the reality that there would still be a huge risk involved. That Nicky might still recognize me, thanks to all the times I’ve taken photos of him. And even video of him getting hard and cumming would be only slight protection from accusations of kidnapping and rape. 

Just because Ben and Liam had gone to Vance instead of the cops didn’t mean Nicky would follow suit. Nor did I have the impression he held the same casual attitude towards sex with men that Smoke did. 

So what the fuck was I thinking of doing? Keeping him? Killing him? Dumping his body along a freeway like William Bonin and Randy Kraft had done? No, do that to someone as beautiful as him? That's not my way.

At least, I don't think it is. But something I had learned from my research on various screenplays was the fact that at the right place and the right time, anyone is capable of anything. 

Even murder.

Did I really want to put myself in that position? Just for a fuck?

Was I that controlled by the beast within?