The New Neighbors

He was good looking. He was smart. But all I could see was his vanity.

She was sweet. She was cute. Maybe not quite as smart as he, but hell, they went to the same college.

He should have loved her all his life. I’d make sure he didn’t. Making him hate her would be easy. The vanity already took me halfway there. But I wanted him to stick around and not take off. I needed to consume him with it, so the hate was his identity.

Also I mustn’t forget to make her hate herself. I want her to stick around too. She’s cute enough to sleep with. That should be pleasant — and the potential for humiliations and betrayals there is nearly endless. Should I end it with a spectacular murder-suicide? Or let let hate smolder through decades and unhappy children? The coup de grace of course is the ultimate realization that a lifetime has been wasted in pointless unhappiness.

Of course, the problem with mind control is that it’s so damn unsatisfying. When it’s done well, they always seem to blame themselves.

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