[Patrick Bateman]

Schoolgirl



It itched. It itched and ran a groove across the bone and however much he wished it otherwise, it would simply have to be accepted.
While it was his duty to perform it had of course been coopted, Julie would never wear a ring she had not chosen and he of course could never spot the ring she would choose. He had taken a half day to shop for engagement rings but to no avail, he struggled to capture what it was that held allure, in the end they were all simply shiny, they were all tied with string and a tag that itself almost drew breath.
“Julie, I've grown to know in you a love that breaks my heart. I would be ever so honoured if you were to spend your life in my arms.”
It was the 'ever so honoured' that she teased him over, but it was the 'grown' that stuck in his throat .You were not supposed to grow to love your wife. Were you?

David Chambers. No matter how the day ended he would wake David Chambers. Would she wake Julie Chambers or Julie Richards?
He ran his index finger and thumb across the ring again, twisting and pulling slightly, adjusting, letting it breath and sweat against the knuckle. Goddam it itched. She had chosed style over comfort and here he was, on his knees adjusting a ring and blinking more than usual.

Her voice melliflousous, supple, her tongue could slide and gracefully tickle the roof of her mouth - your mouth - lips, teeth, tongue.
And she would tease you with a glance, she would turn slightly and that would be all, that would be all until lunch perhaps, she would pass your table and brush your knee with hers. Years later you would be in the middle of your bullshit relationship and she would appear, still sixteen, green woolen jumper and pleated skirt, white collar peaking and silver cross stroking her collar bone, and you would wretch ... you would quietly die one more time, every time. And you would look back at you and yours and you would nod a little, it was all good. It was all good, but never as good and it would never be ...

What was it Father Thomas said? This was a commitment for not simply this life but the next? Was that right? He'd barely been paying attention, a load of superstitious waffle, but ... for all eternity, why did this seem so intimidating? That teasing smile, those big green eyes, the nape of her neck ... for all eternity.
Right knee calls out for a rub, too old now to kneel for long, too old perhaps for confession ... he half smiled at this and adjusted to a crouch, a squat, bouncing now he felt the cool breeze of first sweat as he knew a decision was near.

...

- Fuck me Dave, all hell's breaking loose, Julie's oblivious but you've hell to pay with her folks, they know a sick puppy when they see one. What the fuck got into you? -
He did not move, eyes still on the silver and gold he replied, voice crack a needless reminder
- I don't love her ... or I do, but ... -
He placed the ring in the palm of his hand and index finger and thumb now massaged the bridge of his nose, eyes slammed shut, a swallow, regathered he continued
- It's off. It's all off. It's all ... -

The crowd disbands, pews empty but for rose red programmes, a broken man lightly steps down the aisle.

[Rhubarb]

I didn't understand it, so it's probably all intelligent and highbrow and stuff.

[Patrick Bateman]

Oh dear. Seeing as we've previously established that you are much smarter than me, the reason you don't understand it has probably more to do with it being shit. Oh well, I shall reedit perhaps or post something else up.
Thanks for the critique though, it's hard getting honest opinions, friends etc love whatever you do or at least say they do, and editors either accept or reject with little comment. I've had stuff accepted and rejected and do not know why for either.
Thanks for the comment.

[Patrick Bateman]

I realize that some important italics are missing, I'll scrap this and repost it correctly ...

[Rhubarb]

Oh jeez, dude, don't start being nice to me. You're spoiling a beautiful relationship.

And it was probably more to do with my inability to comprehend any piece of text on a screen that's longer than a couple of paragraphs.