Stalking Vol 2: The Bridge of Reason
She cocked her head while I did the math, scoffed, and said, "I couldn’t care less about
"Not to put too fine a point on it," she said, looking at a young couple entering the doorway,
"you manipulated your government minder in Pakistan to take away his power over you, which
could have led to his death." She looked back at me. "You were party to controlling a key
circumstance in Lebanon, where you literally caused soldiers to shell other soldiers for your
benefit. As far as maintaining control over yourself goes, you bet you would kill if you thought
you had to." She took a needed breath before dismantling more of my self- image.
"You also planned on applying for the screenplay grant on your own, which was deceitful,
and when I filled in the gaps in my story line you put the application on hold to learn more to
advance your work—not ours—which was devious."
I blushed as she looked outside.
Focused on something I could not see, in a disinterested tone she said, "Your personal
storytelling is entirely egocentric, and pettiness is yours to discover." She faced me. "It’s too
rampant to catalogue. Is that enough for now?"
"There’s more?" I mumbled, mockingly.
There was now.
"Do you recall our talk about the Law of Catalytic Momentum as it applied to
"All of them," I said warily.
"What was their essence?"
"Everything is conscious, charged energy, and because like attracts like we attract like-
minded people and events to us."
"You’ve been meeting these kinds of key people at critical junctions of your journey, to
move you along, because it’s their nature to use people and throw them away, like you do."
"What was the fellow who ran Scarlet Productions like?"
I took a moment to edit my expletives, before I said, "He was ambitious, vindictive, loved
control, and always had to be right—but he was a good father and pro vider," I added to not seem
"This is the man who defrauded you out of earned money, deceived you out of a
partnership, and then to be rid of you enhanced an otherwise reparable transgression to deprive
you of your livelihood in Toronto?"
"Okay, he was a fucking dickhead."
Bonnie stared, waiting for me to make a connection.
I didn’t, so she did.
"You had just finished being shaped by your wars; you had all of the negative programming
in place but you lacked the opportunity to display it. He was you, moving you along to me."
I withheld my sneer to reassess the possibility that I would kill for any reason.
"In time," she continued as if speaking to a plant across the room, "three of the four
categories of personality types will become assumptions of the way you look at people, most of
whom will give themselves away through three common personality flaws." She faced me again,