Psychotic (boyxboy)

Chapter One

The alarms pierced the air as the security guards struggled to keep the patients tamed. The patients weren't having that, fighting until their hands were bloody from both their blood and their victim's. No one wanted to be stuck in this hellhole any longer. Smoke began to billow into the large room, causing more panic to arise as everyone fought to get outdoors away from the toxic billow.

And standing there in the midst of the havoc, calm and still, was a man.

The man was, to most, if not all, handsome. He was tall and slim, every bit of his defined, despite the shapeless white uniform all the patients were required to wear. The uniform consisted of a one piece jumpsuit that hung off his shoulder, revealing a sharp, curved collar bone. His uniform was decorated with splashes of crimson, he applied himself. His nose was long and straight, only slightly crooked from abuse to the bone. Stubble covered his defined jaw, reaching up until it was just barely brushing his cheekbone and arching over his upper lip. His dark eyes scanned the seething crowd like a cold, soulless lamp and his thin, pale pink lips curved up into a tight, pleased smile. He had caused all of this, riling the patients up and getting them to rebel.

The man's eyes shifted to his wrists and he frowned with disdain. He lifted his wrists and stared at the handcuffs on them. It offended him that the staff here thought that the mere pieces of metal could keep him tamed. He scoffed and shook his wrists gently, testing the tightness for the third time that night. The metal clanged together and he shrugged. Glancing around for another security guard, he glided to the reception desk and braced himself. His teeth clenched and he began to pull, jerking his left hand around.

A sickening crack filled the air and a pained hiss escaped past his teeth. Tears sprang to the man's eyes, causing an uncomfortable burn, but he refused to let them shed. His hand, now slick with blood, slid out of the handcuff easily. A sigh of relief whooshed past his lips and he brushed his dark fringe back out of his face.

He hurried over to the entrance, walking briskly, trying to be inconspicuous. It worked. For a few minutes.

"Someone grab Grassi!" He heard someone shout, causing him to swear softly. Fuck this, he thought and began sprinting, weaving expertly through the mass with the agility of a dancer. A bauling woman collapsed into his path, screaming incoherent sentences. He halted to avoid tripping over her body just as a heavy body rammed into his back.

Grassi's legs buckled under the extra weight and he collapsed, crying out with pain as his injured wrist smacked the ground with another loud snap. He gritted his teeth and maneuvered his body, flipping over and staring at the sneering face of the security guard.

A wide smile broke Grassi's usually stoic face, which caused the guard to falter with uncertainty. Grassi hooked his leg around the other man's and twisted it. The guard yelped as he lost balance, landing in a disoriented heap besides him.

Grassi giggled and slipped away, pushing himself up with his uninjured arm. He gracefully got to his feet and brushed away imaginary dust. Smirking down at the confused man, he bent at his waist and stared him straight in the eye.

"Goodnight," He whispered and swiftly kicked the man in the nose, driving the nasal bone up into his brain, killing him instantly. The guard crumpled to the ground lifelessly, as if he was asleep.

Grassi's face formed a pout. His death was much too quick for him, and it pained him that the man didn't get to suffer. He sighed and turned on his heel, continuing his persistent mission. The glass doors slid open silently and he was welcomed with a blast of cold, fresh air and unfortunately, rain.

Shaking his head with disappointment, Grassi looked down the long drive and wrinkled his nose. He had a long way to go until he got back to town. With one last fleeting glance over his shoulder, Grassi began to sprint down the long drive, the sheets of icy rain slapping him in the face repeatedly. He breathed slowly to conserve his oxygen, as he wasn't planning to stop for a good amount of time.

Sirens continued to ring behind him, but he didn't look back. He was finally free.

And he was ready to reunite his city with his kiss of death.

+++++

Scott Hoying was late. Again. An annoyed growl left his lips as he pressed down on the gas pedal. Rain pelted against the windshield of his beaten car, the droplets illuminated by the car's headlights. Trees lined the road leading into town, looking like massive, gangly giants reaching for the clouds.

Scott leaned forward, his pale blue eyes squinting as he struggled to see. He didn't feel like running over another animal again. He shuddered. The last time he accidently murdered a poor creature, - it was a squirrel he mentally named Jerry- he was traumatized for days. Rest in peace, Jerry.

He sighed and sank against the leather cushions of his seat, letting his entire body relax. He wasn't going to get there in time, so why stress? He bit his lip and briefly glanced in the rearview mirror. A black shadow darted up past his car and he tilted his head. Maybe it was a bird? He shrugged mutely and continued to drive.

Several minutes past and Scott was beginning to get bored. He turned his gaze to the radio and switched it on. Almost immediately, the soft, powerful voice of Beyonce filled the car. "Pretty hurts..." He sang along with her, his heart humming with love for the female vocalist. He returned his gaze to the road and slammed on his breaks. The tires slipped on the wet asphalt, almost causing him to spin out of control. The white beams bounced around the highlighted silhouette of a man standing just mere inches away from the hood of the car.

The man was breathtaking, in Scott's opinion. Water droplets dripped down his sharp facial features, outlining each curve and dip. His dark hair was plastered to his ivory skin, which contrasted perfectly. The man looked like an angel.

Scott's heart hammered painfully against his ribs. The look in the man's eyes scared him. The obsidian irises looked... dead. He shook the thought out of his head and unlocked the door, extending his long legs to step out.

"Hey, do you need help?" Scott's voice was filled with concern for the other man. The silent man's eyes slid over to the tall man and he nodded shortly. Scott bit his lip. "Well, get on in. I can bring you into town." Scott smiled warmly. The smile was not returned. Slowly, the man in the road walked over to the passenger's side of the vehicle and slid in, not caring that he was soaking the leather seats.

Scott made a face and got back into the car. He wiped off some excess water and began driving once more. "So, what's your name?" He asked politely, briefly glancing over.

The man didn't say anything; he just stared silently ahead, almost like he didn't hear the question. His lips parted and a mellifluous floated out of his lips, causing shivers to run down Scott's spine.

"My name is Mitch," The man said simply, leaving no room for discussion.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride.  

Okay, so that just happened. Ha. Anyways, this book will contain some heavy themes so please leave okay. I mean, Mitchie here just killed a man. It gets worse. So R U N if you can't handle it. Hopefully this book succeeds ha. ~Jaicee