Something I've always been interested in but never actually tried out. Sociopaths! yaaaay!

*

I was 17 when Angie brought him home.

What I remember of him was his impeccable good taste, gorgeous features and his piped-piper, suave way of forming his words. The day he came over for a visit he was wearing chinos, polo shirt and army boots with his blood red hair slicked back and his expression lazy. What I seemed to learn that day was to never judge him by his expressions because his deep, violet eyes always read something else- cold calculation. He had a secretive way of looking at you as if he were observing you, weighing you up and trying to how you ticked. It was the way the predator observed the prey and it never took him too long to work out the basic, fickle human.

Most people didn't see past the way he looked, most only saw the striking hair that he claimed was all natural, and his handsomeness. I think that's what Angie saw in him, plus he was an absolute charmer, I mean he got my militant, old fashioned dad to like him and somehow even my sister and I hadn't managed to even accomplish that.

I saw through him though, straight through him like a window and I think that's what scared him the most. He never showed it though, fear, it wasn't in his vocabulary.

So there he was on that fateful November's afternoon, lounging in my kitchen as if he owned the place, seemingly listening to my sister's ramblings only I could tell he wasn't.

"Sis! There you are! We were waiting for you." Her voice was happy, light and without a shadow of what later defined my sister.

I hadn't even looked at her, not even a glace as my eyes were in deadlock with the stranger's. Angie always brought home the odd guy, all of them gorgeous but I had never seen one like him in all of my 17 years and whilst I feared the look in his eyes I also craved it.

"This is Alasdair, the boy I was telling you about."

I'd nodded slowly, my eyes still trapped in his as if he wanted to pull me into the room with his glare. I remember my feet taking small, tentative steps further into the kitchen but once I realised what I was doing I'd stopped and looked towards my sister.

"D-do you know where mum and dad are?" My top lip was sweating, something it always did when I was anxious or afraid.

"They've gone to the garden shop, but who cares? Come, sit with us."

As I'd taken my seat Alasdair's eyes had still been on me, I'd felt them like cold needles in the side of my face. Angie was off again, talking about god knows what whilst I sat there fidgeting in my intruder's cold gaze. He hadn't taken his eyes off me from the moment I entered the room. I also noticed not once had he uttered a word but he still seemed to have a certain control over the mood and atmosphere somehow and that was terrifying.

I saw him only a few times after that, on the occasions when he'd come to pick Angie up to take her out or when he had come over for dinner and charmed my parents into his sticky embrace. He manipulated the world around me, changed my sister, changed my life and then just disappeared.

He'd been going out with my sister for three months, the longest she'd ever been with a guy and then suddenly one night she came back home a different person. I remember, I'd been practising my speech for my audition for 'head-girl' at school, when I watched her come into my room like a zombie. Her eyes were vacant, her lips trembling and all I felt awash me was red hot fear. I tried to ask her what had happened, I knew she'd gone out on her regular dates with Alasdair and she'd left the bouncy, talkative Angie she'd always been and returned a dead version of herself. We never figured out what went wrong with her for she never spoke again, not one word. She wasn't silent though, sometimes she'd have little outbursts that no psychologist, no matter the rank nor the price could diagnose or cure. I grew up and watched my sister close in on herself, lose everything that had once defined her and I knew exactly who to blame. We never did see him again of course but he did come up in conversation… well when Angie wasn't in the room, his name alone would send her screaming. It got to a point where he was like Voldemort in my house, 'he who should not be named'.

It soon came time for me to leave for Uni and I remember the clawing like feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach as I climbed into that taxi and looked into my sister's vacant eyes. I was moving on without her and she was stuck in that one, unspoken moment in time, reliving it forever in her dreams. I cried for days when I'd left her there, I felt utterly selfish and sickened with myself. Uni wasn't how I'd dreamt it because I refused to allow myself to enjoy it. I promised myself only two years and then I'd go back to Angie and I'd look after her forever, get her out of that cold, broken house and move away, somewhere far away from the past.

Of course my dreams were shattered into a million unfixable pieces when he showed up again. Alasdair, my sister's nightmares and my soon to be reality.

*

Right well as I said before this is like an experiment so please let me know what you think, good or bad.