Call Me | American Psycho Reader Insert

Chapter 8

"I'm...I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, foreign and jarring. Y/N had never apologized to her, never shown any sign of weakness or regret. It was almost as if he was a different person entirely.

Evelyn stared at him, her own anger fading into a mix of confusion and horror. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Y/N took another step back, his eyes searching hers. "I know what I've done," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I know it's wrong, and I can't...I can't keep doing this."

Evelyn's eyes searched his, the anger in her heart giving way to a flicker of hope. "What are you saying?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Y/N took another step back, his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm saying I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I know what I've become, and it's not...it's not who I want to be."

Evelyn stared at him, her hand still on her cheek, the sting of his words still fresh. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope.

Y/N took another step back, his eyes never leaving hers. "I mean, I know that I've hurt you," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I've hurt a lot of people, and I'm sorry."

Evelyn's hand fell to her side, the shock of his apology weighing heavily on her. "So...what do you want to do now?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Y/N's eyes searched hers, a desperate plea in their depths. "I want... a second chance," he murmured. "I know I don't deserve it, but I can't live like this anymore."

Evelyn's eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and hope. "A second chance?" she echoed, her voice a whisper. "What does that even mean?"

Y/N nodded, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "It means that I want to change," he said, his voice earnestly. "I don't want to be this...monster anymore."

Evelyn's heart raced as she took in his words, trying to reconcile them with the man who had just confessed to murder. "But how?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "How can you just change?"

Y/N's gaze remained steady, his voice a low murmur. "I'll get help," he said, his tone earnest. "I'll do whatever it takes to be different."

Evelyn searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was a desperate hope. She didn't know if she could ever trust him again, but the possibility of redemption was a siren's call she couldn't ignore. "What kind of help?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Y/N took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Therapy," he murmured. "I need to figure out what's wrong with me. Why I do these things."

Evelyn's eyes searched his, the hope within her growing stronger despite the fear that clung to her like a second skin. "You'll really do that?" she asked, her voice a tremulous whisper.

Y/N nodded, his eyes sincere. "I promise," he said, his voice cracking. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

Evelyn took a tentative step towards him, her eyes searching his for any sign of the monster she had seen earlier. But all she found was a man on the edge of a cliff, desperately reaching for salvation. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We'll get you help."

Y/N's shoulders slumped with relief, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Thank you for not leaving me."

Evelyn took another step closer, her hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. "I'm tired," she said, her voice weary. "Let's just go to sleep and talk about this in the morning."

Y/N nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. The weight of his secrets still hung between them, but for now, it was enough to have her by his side. "Okay," he murmured, his voice still thick with emotion.

Evelyn retreated to the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Her body was a tense knot of fear and anger, but she knew she needed to rest, to process everything that had just happened. Y/N moved to the living room, the cold glow of the TV screen the only source of light in the otherwise dark apartment. He flipped through the channels, his mind racing with thoughts of the future, of the possibility of change.

And then, the news. The screen flickered to life with the image of a grim-faced reporter standing in front of a yellow taped barricade, the alley where he had killed Paul just hours before. The reporter's voice was grave as she recounted the details of the murder, her words cutting through the silence like a knife. "The body of investment banker Paul Allen was discovered earlier tonight, brutally mutilated in what police are calling one of the most gruesome murders in recent city history."

Y/N's hand tightened on the remote, his heart racing as he watched the footage, his mind racing. He had to get rid of the evidence, the blood-soaked clothes, the letter opener. He couldn't let them find out. He couldn't let them connect him to this.

With trembling hands, he stood up from the couch and moved towards the bedroom, the news still droning on in the background. He could feel his arousal building again, a strange mix of fear and excitement that he had never experienced before. It was as if the violence had unlocked something within him, a dark hunger that was now ravenous.

He closed the door behind him, the sound echoing through the silent apartment. The bed was a sea of white, untouched by the chaos of the outside world. He sat on the edge, his eyes glazed over as he watched the news report, now on his phone, his hand moving to his crotch. His breath grew ragged as he began to stroke himself, the images of blood and gore on the screen only serving to fuel his depraved desires.

Evelyn, her body stiff with feigned sleep, could feel his eyes on her, even though she faced the wall. She knew what he was doing, the sickening sound of his hand against his flesh a perverted contrast to the horror playing out on the screen. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, but she knew that she couldn't leave. Not yet.

Y/N's breath grew heavier, his eyes never leaving the news report as he touched himself. The images of Paul's mutilated body only served to stoke the fire of his depravity. He was lost in his own twisted world, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and desires that no therapist could ever hope to unravel.

With a final, violent jerk of his hand, he reached his climax, his seed spilling onto the pristine white comforter. He let out a low moan, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his release. For a moment, the tension in the room was palpable, the only sound his ragged breathing and the drone of the news report.

Satisfied, Y/N cleaned himself up with a discarded shirt and moved towards the bed, his eyes on Evelyn's slender form. He slid in behind her, his body pressing against hers, his arms wrapping around her waist. He felt her stiffen for a moment before she relaxed, her body giving in to the warmth of his embrace. He nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her scent, a mix of fear and anger that only served to excite him further.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him, the day's events swirling in his mind like a macabre dream. Images of blood and gore mixed with the softness of Evelyn's skin, the sweetness of her breath. It was a strange cocktail of emotions, one that both repulsed and thrilled him. But as sleep took hold, the darkness of his thoughts began to recede, leaving behind a sense of peace that was as false as the smile he had painted on his face for the world to see.