FULL CHAPTER HERE —> AGAINST MY WILL 2-12

“I live in the Trump Place building on 180 Riverside Boulevard, on the twelfth floor.” With a roll of his neck, Orin walked out of the bathroom. He didn’t even flinch at the breeze, body open to the cold with nothing on but a pair of green briefs and the same color socks to match his ring. “My name is Orin Kelly. I’m twenty years old.”

He paused halfway between the living room and kitchen, socked feet on wood. Twenty years old, huh? Honestly, it still sounded weird to have a ‘two’ in front of his age. Whatever.

Then he kept walking, the monologue from American Psycho playing over and over in his head since he woke up. Mostly because he watched it last night on the DVD player he’d bought specifically to watch American Psycho.

It wasn’t his fault that he was doing the monologue, honestly.

The place was practically begging for it with all the white walls and pale hardwood and the huge windows looking out over the Hudson all the way to Jersey. It was definitely something Bateman would have loved, at the very least.

There still wasn’t all that much furniture, something else Bateman would have probably loved. A single trip through Bed, Bath, and Beyond had only gotten him so much and past a couple couches, a glass TV stand with a matching coffee table, a dining set, and a few other things pulled out of a bunch of boxes shoved up against one wall, Orin was still pretty light on actual furnishings for his living space. The kitchen wasn’t much better, either, with mostly unopened dishes still in their packaging almost a week later and a whole bunch of stuff he’d bought because he figured he might eventually need it.

A pizza cutter, sure. He could understand why he got that one. But why’d I go for the garlic press? That was a mystery even to him.

FULL CHAPTER HERE —> AGAINST MY WILL 2-12