Jamie looked at himself in the mirror. He saw what everone else did. A rich twenty something. Successful, young, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Jamie balled his fists. He should be grateful, but he wasn't. His education, his company; it had all been bought and paid for, and not by himself either. They were his father's. The company ran itself. Jamie simply went through the motions. He desperately wanted something of his own. Jamie had contemplated starting another company, beginning a charity, but had come to believe that everything that was built on his surname would never truly be his.
A thought formed in his head. A dark thought. A thrilling one. Jamie looked at his hands, still fists. They were strong. The thought to kill someone came out of nowhere, yet it felt oddly familiar. The image pleased him. He could turn it into an artform.
Jamie looked into his own dark eyes. He tried to see into his own dark heart. What had sparked this lust? He thought about whose life he would take. Soon he realized it would not be women. They were too easy; throwing themselves at him. Where would be the challenge in that?
He wanted it to be men. Strong, old men. Resembling his dad. The kind of men that were so pleased with themselves they didn't see how awful they really were. The bane of his existence they were, and not only his' either. Jamie knew just how to start. A plan began to take shape. He would need a solid plan and a plan B. Always be prepared.
Jamie flashed a smile at himself. He'd just found a goal of his own. And when the mirror smiled back at him he could see something new, something no one else would see. He saw his true self.