He paced until it made him dizzy. The area was too small, what with the desk that ran the whole length of the room, his computer, three monitors, his gaming chair and his bed, all competing for space.
She’d had the nerve to confront him when he got home last night. She hadn’t even backed down when he’d started shouting at her, screaming in her face. They’d been nose-to-nose and she’d stood her ground. He was losing his touch. Then she’d given him her ‘soft voice’ – the one she reserved for him when she was trying to talk him around. Or keep him calm. He had to admit, she was good at that. He’d always found his mother’s voice soothing. Even during the dark days, the even darker nights when he’d wake in the throes of a night terror, petrified, and certain there were people in his room, people who wanted to hurt him.
When his mum had been there, stroking his hair, hushing him, telling him everything was okay, he’d believed her. A part of him wished she could do that now. Maybe her reassurances would make him believe it again. Although he had the feeling he’d gone too far for that now. He collapsed on his bed, staring at the computer screen. His server was open, his followers were playing the game without him. He wasn’t in the mood, couldn’t concentrate on online killing. He wouldn’t for a while.
He had to come down from the high of last night’s reality first. It hadn’t happened as planned, but maybe that’s why it’d been even more exhilarating than the first time.