━━ 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨

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The blonde cheerleader slowly descended the stairs, fearfully glancing around the dark foyer of the sorority house. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

No response. She lingered on the stairs, trying to search the darkness for anything strange, to no avail. Taking a step back up the stairs, the floorboards beneath her creaked, making her flinch and yelp. In that moment, thunder boomed, with lightning flashing white through the glass panels of the door. She was blinded momentarily, lifting a hand up to block the bright light from her eyes. When she lowered the hand from her eyes, she spotted a man standing outside with a knife as thunder rolled overhead again, and she let out a blood curling scream of terror. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, reclining on the sofa with a Buck 120 hunting knife in his left hand. "Jesus, I'd kill the moron who wrote and directed this garbage. Full of clichés and bad dialogue. The only good thing is the gore, especially the part where the cheerleader gets stabbed in the eye. The references are decent  Norman runs at her the same way Norman from Psycho runs at Lila Crane. Oh, and the scene where she has to cut off her own arm is a homage to the scene in My Bloody Valentine. But this is basically a sequel to the '82 movie The House on Sorority Row, except it's made from the perspective of a horror movie fan. I can appreciate that, at least."  

He sucked in a breath of boredom, tilting his head to one side. "Well, sequels are generally better. I prefer Psycho 2 a lot more than the first, don't you agree?"

Next to him was a woman around his age, slightly older. Red waves of strawberry scented hair framed her face, her bangs sticking to her tear stained cheeks, reinforced by fresh waves of tears that ran rivers and ruined her mascara. Green eyes glittered with liquid like a jade at the bottom of a lake. Her sobs were muffled by the duct tape secured over her mouth, her hands and ankles bound together with zip ties. Her clothes were cute, a low cut blouse and a skirt, which she had chose for their date earlier that evening. 

After the date, he offered to take her home, where he proceeded to kidnap her and keep her in his apartment. For a job, obviously. Apparently she cheated on an ex? The details didn't really matter to him, it was a chance for him to update his body count, and move to bigger and better things. It was practically in the palm of his hands, waiting for him to take it for himself. 

Emilia Bates, the daughter of Norman Bates  the real Norman Bates. He wondered what it would be like to kill the daughter of a serial killer, to snatch her away from him, becoming his better. The thrill of the thought that he would be talked about in reference to him. How Mickey would tell people that she was crazy, just like her psycho dad. People would believe him, crown him as a survivor, shower him with adoration and concern. Interviews, movies, shows. All about him. 

A sigh left his lips as he sat up, lifting his right hand towards the woman. She flinched, cowering back, but stopped when he gave her a look. He removed the tape covering her mouth, asking again: "C'mon, sweetheart, you gotta give me an answer. Do you agree or not?"

𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐏 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐈Where stories live. Discover now