It was then that I’d first seen fear in Lennox Kruger’s eyes. He was afraid of me. I was barely seventeen. But something else was also in his eyes. Pride. I’d never had anyone be proud of me before that day. It felt good. Still, in that moment, I wanted to put a gun to his temple and kill him. At the same time, though, I wanted to see that look of pride in his eyes once more. My feelings about the whole thing confused the f**k out of me.
I’m not sure why I never tried to kill the bastard. God knows I had numerous opportunities. Like now, for instance. I could easily shoot him in the head before he can get to the gun he keeps strapped under his desk. Still, I don’t want to waste him. Maybe because I enjoy seeing that look of fear in his eyes way too much. Or maybe because my f****d-up psyc
