The Life of a Psychopath

Chapter 1

"Your dad's a fucking wimp. A fucking wimp. He never deserved me. He's a whore!" My mother growls, her words slurred together. It's one in the morning. She's been muttering about my father since twelve o'clock. She's been drunk since six o'clock. I sigh and sit down on the floor.
"Mom. Stop. Please. You're scaring me." I try saying to her. She staggers over to me and scowls. Her light blue eyes are narrowed and hold the look of pure hatred.
"I'm scaring you, Alex? You are my daughter. I would never hurt you. Your father..... Your goddamned father! You should be scared of him!" She yells, her face twisted into a look of rage. "He tried to kill me, Alex! Eleven years ago I gave birth to you, and that man became your father, and I hate him!" My mother hisses. Now she isn't making any sense. My father never tried to kill her. She's jumping from one subject to another, blinded by the three bottles of wine she chugged earlier that evening.
Hot tears blur my vision, and I pull my legs to my chest. This is the fifth night in a row that my mother has been like this. She's constantly drunk. Ever since my dad let her have full custody of me six months ago, she's only gotten worse. "Please stop it....." I whisper. My mother is muttering to herself and she completely misses what I say. I stand up and run to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it.
"Alex! Get back here! You bitch! You're just like your worthless father! You will burn in hell!" My mother screams. I lean against the wall and run my fingers through my hair, letting tears fall down my cheeks.
I hate her. I want to kill her. Somebody.... Please save me. I think to myself. But I know that's not going to happen. Nobody can save me. My dad tried, but even he couldn't help me. I take a deep, shaky breath and sit on the floor with my back pressed against the door. I pull my knees to my chest and bury my face in my arms. My mother is still screaming at me, but I tune her out. Now she's just an echo in the distance. I rock forwards and backwards, trying to comfort myself, but it doesn't work. I'm still shaking uncontrollably. Tears pour from my eyes, and I can do nothing to stop them. I want to lie down and go to sleep, but my heart is beating too fast, and my thoughts are running a mile a minute.
I could stab her. Or suffocate her when she finally passes out. Murderous thoughts fill my and, but I push them away. I'm not a psychopath, like my mother. I can handle this responsibly. I'll just wait for my mom to pass out, which should be around five a.m., and then I'll pour out all her liquor, then I'll go to school and act like nothing happened; the same thing I do everyday.
"Alex.... Alex I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from your dad.... I'm sorry you have to end up like him..." My mother sobs outside the door. "Please come out now. I love you." Her words are still slurring together, and her voice sounds raspy. I lean my head back against the door and sigh, closing my eyes and listening to my mothers repeated apology.
"You sure have a funny way of showing love..." I whisper quietly so she can't hear me. My mothers apology has been replaced by loud sobbing. I feel a little guilty, and I bite my tongue. She doesn't really love me. She's lying. She just wants someone to scream at.
As if on queue, my mothers sobbing transforms into anger. She slams against the door.
"Your a bitch! Get out of there you coward!" She screeches. Finally, I've had enough. I stand up and angrily throw open the door. My mother stumbles into the bathroom. She falls onto the tile, hard.
"You tripped me!" She screams. She's completely delusional- I did no such thing. I glare down at her, grinding my teeth together. She looks up at me, screaming obscenities. I bite my lip, then grab a small shelf next to me,rip it off the wall, and slam it into her head. I crouch next to her and take her pulse. She's still breathing, just knocked out. Guilt slams into me, and I hug her, weeping softly. What did I just do? I could have killed her! Crying, I gently pull her into her room and lie her in her bed. She doesn't even flinch. She won't remember any of this in the morning. She never does. I wipe my eyes and walk into my own room. I climb into bed and sigh.
At least I don't have to wait hours for her to pass out by herself. I think to myself just before I fall asleep.