Diary of a Psychopath

Prologue

“Can’t we just blow them up? They’ll stop chasing us.” No! We can’t do that, think about the people “Fuck the people” No, No, No, we need to escape.

I remember a day when it wasn’t a constant battle between us, when we were one, and not two different people, in the same god damn head. When we thought about more than just constantly wanting to blow up cute puppies and actually wanted to do something with our life. A time where we were normal. Had a normal life, normal job, normal family. But that accident changed it all. Now I am no longer Austin Saunders, but only half him. The other me preferred to call himself The Wayfarer

We have to escape this institute, it isn’t fun in here, and trust me, having an insane person controlling your body doesn’t make it any easier. Being tortured in there, with medieval methods. The doctors calling it ‘Hydrotherapy’ and ‘Electrotherapy.’ “It will help you, you’ll get better,” they said. The sick bastards.

We managed to find ourselves running through the kitchen. “Ohhh. Shiny” There was a butcher’s knife sitting on the bench. He was right, it was shiny, and sharp, and very useful for the escape we are making right now. Grab it, we might need that if we run into any resistance. ”Of course, my pleasure” Oh god, I hope we don’t have to use it.

We ran to the door, and peered around the corner, all clear.  Run down the hall, Last left, we should find ourselves in the lobby. “You’re a little bossy.” Of course I am you psycho, without me we would have been dead a long time ago.

Making our way down the hall, playing with the keys we had previously stolen from a guard, I heard raised voices coming from behind the steel gate. Coming from the lobby. Oh no. If I heard it then he heard it too.

Our pace quickened and I felt us smirk sadistically. He definitely heard it too. We pulled the keys from our side and they slide nicely into the keyhole in the security gate, turning easily , and with a click, the door sprang free. He looked upon the door. It was an old fashioned wooden door, with a glossy finish, obviously constructed to provide a sense of security and safeness before the patients entered this ‘Institute for the Mentally Ill’, but once inside, there was nothing to suggest it was anything else other than what it was.

A torture house.

We reached our hand forward to push the door aside and enter swiftly. We stopped suddenly, taking in our surroundings. There were 5 doctors huddled in the centre of the room, all their eyes turned to meet us as we walked into the lobby. Expressions of fear and disgust washed over their face. Not long from now, the dull, white walls would be brightened with the vibrancy of crimson red, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. All I wanted to do was to yell out to them and tell them to run for their life, to sprint out that door and never stop running, but instead, what came out of my mouth was “What’s up Docs, you all look a little pale. Let me put a some colour back into your life.” Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. “Shut Up, now.”

The doctors’ expressions changed from fear to confusion. Of course they were confused. The only person that can hear me is me. Well me and my insane other half.

My arm moved towards the butcher’s knife, against my will, which was hidden in our belt. In one swift motion, we ran forward and in the process of pulling the knife from its resting place, sliced straight through the first doctors neck. Blood went everywhere. All over the walls, all over my clothes, and all over the doctors.

We brought the blade up to a vertex and brought it back down hard on the second doctor, the blade digging so deep that it got stuck in his shoulder blade. Blood was now pooling on the ground at our feet. The other doctors’ began to scream for help. I wish I could stop, but I don’t have control of my physical features, like I was being driven by someone else, something else.

A couple jerks on the blade and it was free once again. The blade as covered in blood, glistening so brightly underneath the bright lights found within the lobby. Turning to the third doctor, The Wayfarer said sadistically, “Oh shut up will you, you’re hurting my ears and we don’t like that.” We then swiftly brought the knife down on his head, splintering the skull, then bringing it down again and breaking through, cutting straight into his brain.

The last two doctors got up to run for the exit. We noticed and turned around and brought the blade down on the first, hitting him deep in the leg, unfortunately he wasn’t escaping. The other doctor was almost at the door. We stood up straight and lobbed the blade in his direction. It soared through the air and landed in the back of his head. He instantly collapsed.

We walked over and pulled the blade form the doctors limp body. I wish I didn’t have to be present for this, I wish I wasn’t stuck in a constant state of consciousness, but I was. There was blood everywhere, grey matter strewn across the floor. It was the scene of a massacre and I wanted to be sick, but The Wayfarer was enjoying this.

The doctor who was on the floor holding his leg looked up at us. His expression was one you would wield when you are in excruciating pain. I hated seeing someone like this. If you aren’t going to let him live, please, kill him now. ”Fine, but only because you asked nicely.” The doctor looked at us and whispered at us, “I didn’t ask for anything.” With that we knelt down beside him, placing the blade against his neck. With a blood curdling cackle, The Wayfarer pressed the blade hard and yanked it sideways.