Damon woke up early in the morning like clockwork. He didn't even need to look at the watch to know it's 5:00 a.m. sharp. He switched on the lamp, illuminating his clean room.
It wasn't sterile, but curated. He got off the bed, and went towards his single plant, took the spray bottle beside it and hydrated the plant with some water. When he was finished he went to his study table, and sat down.
He opened his journal, and started to read last night's section. There was a cold detachement in how he wrote, nothing emotional, just very detailed observations of his classmates, family and girlfriend's movements and how they acted.
This helped him better 'understand' how to act in front of them, when they are sad, happy, angry or suspicion of something concerning him. Plus in his own way, how 'normal' people acted both intrigued and amused him.
He closed the journal when he recognised there were no mistakes. And left it there to check on his shelf of fictional books. He never hides his journal because everyone knows not to come inside unannounced.
And if they do, he could always tell.
Seeing nothing was missing, he left his room for the bathroom. He relieved his bladder, before brushing teeth while he turned on the shower faucet. And when he was done brushing, he stripped down all his clothes, threw them inside the laundry basket. And walked inside the shower booth to clean himself.
He showered quickly, having bathed last night.
He turned off the faucet, and walked outside the booth and dried himself while inching closer to the bathroom mirror. He looked at himself, trying to note any differences from last night. Seeing some.
He was still as pale and healthy looking as last night. His dark hair was three inches longer, there were some shadows underneath his eyes, probably because he stayed up later than he usually does.
His dark eyes were still bottomless pits of darkness like they usually are. His face handsome to the objective eyes, while Damon himself never truly understood the fascination with it.
Though he could admit it's perfection, it was perfectly symmetrical, its pale skin unblemished and smooth. He tilted his head a few degrees to the left, then to the right, studying how the light fell across his jaw.
And then, slowly, mechanically, he smiled.
It was too wide.
The corners of his mouth pulled back, exposing just a little too much teeth. His eyes didn't follow. They stayed flat—calculating, dead.
He let the expression drop and tried again.
This time he added a crinkle to his eyes, a little arch to his brows. Better. More "warmth." Less predatory.
He rehearsed a dozen versions of the same smile. The one for his teachers. The one for classmates who passed him notes. The one for his sister, which always tilted softer, just slightly crooked. And then the one he wore for his mother—careful, polished, respectful.
He never practiced the smile he wore alone.
That one didn't need improvement.
•••
He walked out the bathroom, and went back to his own room. He dressed himself in his school uniform of navy blue pants, white shirt, a blue tie with black stripes and over the shirt was a blazer, matching his pants.
He groomed his dark hair to be slick, not with too much gel, just enough. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he nodded, not really certain if he looked charming or not. But he usually received good feedback from his girlfriend and mother. So it wasn't as if how he dressed and groomed himself was actually bad.
He looked at the time on his phone, and saw it was 06:03 p.m. He headed out to his sister's room and knocked three times, before walking inside.
His sister was sprawled on the bed, sheets on the floor as usual, as she hugged the pillow, drooling on it. He switched on the room's light, and walked up to his sister.
"Alex, if you don't wake up now mom is going to hog all the hot water," he said calmly, but it was as if he was an alarm clock ringing very loudly.
His sister opened her eyes, like the undead, and ran out the room with not so much as a hello. Damon didn't care, so he walked out and headed to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast.
For today, something simple. Eggs, toast and juice for himself and his sister while coffee for his mother. By six thirty his mom came to the kitchen and poured herself the hot coffee he brewed.
As she drank it, she moved her dead looking eyes towards Damon. Seeing his son, her lips curled up, "Hi sunshine, wake up good?"
Damon swallowed his toast, before giving his mother the smile he practiced, "Yes, what about you?"
"Ugh.. like shit, I have deadline report that's still yet to be finished."
"Oh, what's it about?"
His mother raised an eyebrow, "since when have you been interested in my work?"
Damon made a show to roll his eyes, with a glint of observation to see if it was the proper execution in this context, "since forever, although it doesn't seem like it, I listen to what you have to say."
"Really, then tell me, when was my last report?"
He stuffed himself with food, and when he was finished, he swallowed with juice. And stood up, taking his plate to the sink.
"I think it's time for me to go, bye," he ran towards his room to take his backpack and phone, then he walked out the door, hearing his mother shouting after him, asking since when does school clock in this early. But he was long gone by then.
•••
When his son left, Olivia's easy going motherly smile disappeared, replaced by a wary, nervous expression. She could feel the cold sweats dripping down her back, drenching her nightgown.
"Is brother gone?"
Her daughter came in, also wearing a cautious and fearful expression. She nodded to her, beaconing for her to come. They hugged, finding comfort in eachother.
The monster had left, they could finally relax, just until he comes back, frightening them again. Olivia sometimes envied her daughter's lax nature to be able to sleep soundly even when the monster was at home.
While she on the other hand, can't do anything, walking around eggshells when his around, afraid of the day he might snap.
'Please dear lord, guide my innocent boy towards the light. As frightening as he is, his still my child.'