Call Me | American Psycho Reader Insert

Chapter 4

The footsteps grew closer, the rhythmic beat a stark contrast to the erratic pounding of their hearts. A figure emerged from the shadows, a slim silhouette with a confident stride. The light from the streetlamp above glinted off her blonde hair, giving her an ethereal glow. It was Christy, one of the office secretaries, known for her sharp wit and sharp stilettos.

Paul's eyes widened further, his desperation palpable. "Christy," he croaked, "please, tell him to stop."

Christy's smile was icy as she stepped into the light, her heels clicking against the wet pavement. "Oh, Y/N," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and disapproval. "What have we here?"

Y/N's grip on Paul's shirt tightened, his mind racing. He hadn't planned for this. "It's just a misunderstanding," he said, his voice steady. "Why don't you go back to the office?"

Christy tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes flicking from the letter opener to the fear in Paul's eyes. "I don't think so," she said, her smile widening. "I think I'll stay and watch."

Y/N's grip on the letter opener tightened, his mind racing. He hadn't anticipated an audience, especially not one that could potentially ruin his plans. "This doesn't concern you," he said, his voice firm.

Christy's smile grew, her eyes gleaming with a mischief that was all too familiar to him. "Oh, but it does," she purred, taking another step closer. "You see, I've always had a bit of a crush on the dramatic. And what's more dramatic than a little office rivalry turned... bloody?"

Y/N's mind raced. He hadn't counted on a witness, especially not one who seemed to be enjoying the show. He took a step back, his hand still at Paul's throat, the letter opener poised and ready. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice tight.

Christy shrugged, her eyes glittering with excitement. "Just a little entertainment," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "You know, the kind that breaks up the monotony of the workday."

Y/N felt a flicker of something dangerous in her gaze, something that matched the thrill he got from his own dark impulses. He could see that she wasn't going to be easily dismissed. "And what makes you think you're in any position to make demands?" he snarled, his grip on Paul tightening.

Christy's smile never wavered. "Oh, I don't know," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe it's because I know a few things about you, Y/N. Things that would be...unfortunate if they got out."

Paul's eyes darted between the two of them, his fear growing with each passing second. He could feel the blade pressing harder against his throat, the warm trickle of blood slowly making its way down his neck. "Please," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "Someone help me."

Christy's smile grew wider, her eyes never leaving Y/N's. "Oh, I don't think anyone's going to help you tonight, Paul," she said, her voice a purr. "Not when you've got someone like Y/N to deal with."

Y/N's gaze flicked between Christy and Paul, his mind racing. He hadn't anticipated this twist, but he wasn't about to let it ruin his plan. He tightened his grip on the letter opener, the metal digging into Paul's flesh. "What do you want?" he demanded once again, his voice low and dangerous.

Christy's smile grew more predatory, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I want a show," she said, her voice a seductive whisper. "I want to see what you're really made of, Y/N. After all, we all have our little secrets, don't we?"

Y/N's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew he had to tread carefully. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice cold and calculated.

Christy took another step closer, her heels echoing in the tense silence. "I've seen the way you look at people, Y/N. The way you see right through them, like they're nothing but a means to an end. I've always wondered what you're truly capable of." She leaned in, her breath warm against his cheek. "And now, I think I'm about to find out."

Paul's eyes darted between them, his fear turning to desperation. He could feel the blood trickling down his neck, staining his shirt collar. "Christy, please," he gasped, his voice barely audible. "Tell him to stop."

Christy's gaze remained fixed on Y/N, her smile a mix of excitement and challenge. "Oh, I don't think I will," she said, her voice a seductive whisper. "In fact, I think I'd like to see just how far you're willing to take this."

Y/N felt a strange thrill at her words, a twisted sense of excitement that only served to fuel his rage. He knew he had to regain control of the situation, but he couldn't deny the allure of her interest. He took a deep breath, his hand still tight around the letter opener. "What do you want?" he asked a third time, his voice a low growl.

Christy stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I want to watch," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. "I want to see you in action. I want to know what it feels like to be truly alive."

The thrill of the situation washed over Y/N, the adrenaline mixing with his anger. He knew he had to make a decision quickly. He looked down at Paul, the letter opener still pressed against his throat, the pulse of his jugular beating erratically beneath the cold steel. He could feel the power surging through him, the desire to end this man's life with a flick of his wrist.

With a swift, decisive motion, Y/N brought the letter opener down, the blade slicing through skin and cartilage with a sickening crunch. Paul's eyes went wide with shock and pain, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The warm spray of blood coated Y/N's hand and arm, the metallic scent filling the air. He watched with a detached fascination as the life drained from Paul's eyes, his body going limp against the dumpster.

Christy's eyes widened with a mix of horror and arousal, her hand coming to her mouth in a silent gasp. Y/N could feel the power of the moment, the thrill of his control over life and death. He stepped back, letting Paul's body slide to the ground, the letter opener still in his hand. "You wanted a show," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Now you've got one."