The Predator

It started as a fucking itch, somewhere beneath my ribs, gnawing at the edges of who I thought I was.

I unconsciously straightened, swirling the whiskey in my glass and my eyes narrowed as her voice drifted in my ears. My little bird giggled softly at something my mother said. That sound… ah… how do I explain it? No words would do any justice. It was light and unguarded and at the same time it was like a knife to my chest. A sensation clawed its way up my spine. It wasn’t jealousy. No, jealousy was green. This was something deeper, something primal. And it pissed me off....