Devilicious Psychopath | Patrick Bateman | 18+

Shattered

"Y/n!" I know my dad was right by me but his voice sounded so far away. These repressed feelings and memories became so overwhelming that my brain decided it was too much to bear so everything went blank for the third time today.
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*Trigger warning very disturbing*

Suddenly I felt his hands all over me and I was back to being as helpless as a mouse. No I thought I got rid of these feelings. They don't affect me anymore, he doesn't affect me anymore.

My hands are a clammy mess and I feel like I've just ran a marathon. A distraught whimper leaves me in a pathetic attempt to rid myself of this feeling that I grew to despise so much. There were multiple voices echoing but I couldn't hear clearly.

Faint voices echoed far away and I stirred being revived into my reality. I kept my eyes closed to listen, my body no longer felt stiff I can feel my head rested upon a comforting chest.

His scent filled my senses further waking me up and making my body stir in his arms. Patrick was as close as he can be holding me and whispering probably sweet nothings like he does usually but everything sounds so muffled.

"My sweet girl." I finally took in his words. As they reached my ear his kisses coated just below, down my neck like soft flutters of a butterflies wings. So that's why they call them butterfly kisses?

Where am I? Why is it so cold? I know it's Patrick the one holding onto me, I know his arms anywhere, the safety I feel in them like no other, like my soul knows I can relax. His warmth the only source of heat wrapping around me.

I buried all the hurt and pain so deep inside I had forgotten about it completely as if it never occurred, until I see him then my body reacts wanting to run sensing the danger and trauma from a mile away.

It was not easy having to hide, to put on a graceful smile and stand beside my perfect parents and pretend to be a perfect daughter. A girl with no worries or problems, because there's nothing to be sad about when daddy's money could get you anything.

Because money fixes everything right? But all along I've been struggling, crushed under the weight of the burden. Suffocating under deep waters of my trauma, agonizing pain and anxiety. A fear of staying away from boys most my life aside from the friendly boys I grew up around.

Trauma that for the longest not a single soul knew about because I was petrified of anyone knowing. Full of shame and disgust I did everything I could to keep my lips sealed out of fear.

Quite literally, it was so bad I stopped talking at times in utter panic I would somehow spill my darkest shame. It let to me developing an anxiety disorder called selective mutism, but my parents brushed it off as me being a very shy kid. God forbid there was anything wrong with me.

Eventually my mind erased those troubled memories as a way of coping without my mind shattering completely due to the trauma of being robbed of my innocence as a child.

But that only made more damage than anything else because I was slowly dying on the inside with no one to talk to.

And then there was him.

It all makes sense now, everything that I've been through, why deep down in my heart of hearts I knew I was attracted to Patrick. Why I secretly wanted to stay by his side even when I knew that if I mentioned anything to my father he would have Patrick in cuffs and behind bars before I could blink.

From the very beginning, from the second our eyes first met from across the ballroom.

My soul knew instantly he was broken, like me.