Right One

𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

(Here's to break the 69th chapter 😌my dirty mind going off the hook— nvm 🧜‍♀️

A/n: Time to reveal ✨the✨ secret has come i guess....? *Evil laugh*😈)
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A/n pov

Evil.

Pure evil.

His thoughts had been pure evil since the day one. Make it the day where he caught a butterfly and tore it's wings, making countless pieces of it, then admired his art, a masterpiece with a grin on his baby-ish face, glinting with pure satisfaction and happiness, while he was only three-year-old, or where he killed a puppy— just because it'd licked her face— smashing it's head with a rock again and again and again until it was dead, and then running his small bycycle over its dead body, when he was still six years old.

From the day one, his thoughts, visions and antics had been weird- suspicious even.

Unnatural and something oddly—

Psychotic.

Yet, everyone had ignored it. The signs had been there. They always had been. But they chose to ignore it, putting up with a lame excuse, ‘he's just a baby, ofcourse he will be doing weird things’.

But none cared admit— or even dig up the truth about his ‘weird deeds’. If they had, they would have noticed it, noticed all things- how the toddler had smiled at a dead butterfly, not because the butterfly was pretty- no. Instead, he'd smiled because he was satisfied with his art. The art he'd created by shredding that tiny creature's wings into pieces.

They'd have noticed it too— that - the child wasn't sad because he saw a dead puppy- no. But he was sad because he couldn't play with the puppy a little more before his family caught him- or more like the dead puppy.

He wanted to play, y'know.

Have a little more fun with the puppy. Skin it, cut it's tongue— that damn tongue —which had licked her face. Maybe even pluck out it's eyeballs and play with them.

He'd so many things to do with the puppy but his family ruined it.

He didn't liked it. No. He didn't. How could he? How dare they interrupt him in the middle? He was enjoying his time, his sweet time by pleasuring himself, but his so-called family had to come inbetween and meddle in his business. He always asked himself and wondered- can't they just mind their own business and leave him be?

It isn't too hard to let someone be the way they wants, now is it?

But no. Those people - those goddamn freaking pain in ass never understood it. Always came to him, teaching him stuffs, showing him toy cars, stuffed animals, flowers then tom and jerry- no. He didn't liked that.

It wasn't pleasant. It's not good.

He wanted to see the news- not where they explained business and education. The news where the explained how people killed eachother. How they were tortured. He wanted to see animals- not cartoon ones- no, the real ones. Tigers or lions- even wolfs, them roaming around the Jungle and ruling over it. Hunting everyone beneath them- shedding blood, killing them. All of it. He'd craved to see all of it.

But the irony! He couldn't.

That stupid old man along with his old wife, and those grown ass people who called themselves his uncle and aunt- always changed the channel when he was near, spoke of different topics when he listened to them.

It was starting to get frustrating. So frustrating that he'd sneak out and kill some animals- small animals or pets of others, watch them struggle for a single intake of breathe, the blood flowing out of their body without a stop, and then finally die. He'd watch all of it with a satisfactory smirk, a victorious smile taking over his innocent baby-ish features.