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They treat me like a child, and they think that I don't understand half the shit that goes on around me, but I understand a lot. In fact, I understand more than half of these assholes with legs.
They look at me. They give me looks that suggest their disgust for me.
The doctors used words like special needs or mentally challenged.
The nobody's words include psychopath and insane.
Those words I could deal with, barely. However, one world that i couldn't handle was crazy.
I wasn't crazy. I know things. Sure, there were voices that liked for me to do bad things, but that's besides the point.
I mean, even if I was crazy. They called Einstein crazy. Although...I don't think Einstein was a serial killer.
YOU ARE READING
She Loves Me Not.
Short StoryWhen people think of a serial killer, they think of what it is, well... a serial killer. When people think of the crazy, they think of the crazy people. No one thinks of love. The emotions that are swirling through that psychotic mess. Those who be...
