I stand outside my mothers house. The lights are still on. I figure she's still up drinking, like she is every night. I open the front door and quietly slip inside. My mother is at the back of the house, in her bedroom. The television is on, and it's turned up incredibly loud. I can hear it all the way from here. Silently, I creep through the house. Flipping my hood up, I pull a knife out of my pocket. It's still slick with blood. My mother laughs loudly about something, then yells something inaudible. My grip on the knifes handle tightens. The thought of my mother dead fills me with pleasure. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Once I open my eyes, I start advancing further into the house. Without making a sound, I reach her bedroom door. It's slightly ajar. I peek in through the crack. The room is torn apart, and my mother is sitting on her bed sipping a glass of wine, empty liquor bottles scattered across the floor. My face twists into a scowl. She deserves to die.
I quickly step into the room and jump onto my mothers bed. Her eyes widen with fear, and a scream gets caught in her throat. A wide, psychotic grin stretches across my face.
"Hello, mommy! Pleasure seeing you tonight. Are you incredibly drunk? I hope not. I'd love for you to be at least a little sober for this special occasion." I hiss at her.
"A-Alex! What are you..?! The blood! You demon!" She stammers in terror.
"Oh this? This blood? Its daddy, and Nicole, and my step brothers. They're in a better place now. But you... Once I'm done with you, you'll be burning in hell!" I laugh maniacally. My mother tries to push me off of her, but I stab her in the shoulder. She yells in pain. I wrench the knife out of her shoulder and stab her in the stomach six times. Blood spills from her mouth. She let's out a strangled cry, and I laugh again.
"Have a nice after life." I whisper. I then stab the knife straight through her forehead. She dies instantly, a look of horror still frozen on her face. I get off of her and go into the kitchen. At the sink, I rinse the blood off my knives, hands, and face. Then I set her house on fire as well. I stand outside and watch the flames rise up into the sky, revelling in the fact that she's dead. My mother's actually dead.
I run away, into the woods. People would soon notice the fire. Once deep into the forest, I lie down and yawn. I must sleep.
After all, I do have school tomorrow.
(Sorry for such a short chapter. I swear I'll make up for it in the next chapter.))
YOU ARE READING
The Life of a Psychopath
TerrorHer mother's a drunk. Her father can't help her. Nobody believes the words she says. Slowly, everything starts to corrupt her. Sleepless nights, hours of being screamed at, years of being tortured- it all finally took its toll, and she snapped. She...
