The Young Psychopath

A NEW HOME

It's the same every day—killing people for money, food, or sometimes just for the sake of killing. I've been wandering, homeless and aimless, for months, with no worries or plans. I haven't eaten all day. Honestly, if it were up to me, I wouldn't eat ever again. But hunger is relentless, so I have to find something.

I arrive at a gas station. There's a small shop inside. I walk in and politely ask the guy behind the counter if he can help me with a loaf of bread. He barely looks up from his magazine and points lazily toward the shelves.

I don't move. Instead, I stand there for a moment longer, hoping he'll change his mind. "Please," I say, "I'm really hungry. I don't have the energy to go fetch it myself."

His eyes flick up, filled with annoyance. "Go get it yourself, or drop dead right here," he snaps.

I don't move, don't flinch. "No," I reply firmly. "You'll bring it to me."

He ignores me, his eyes falling back to his magazine as though I said nothing.

I smile to myself and stroll to the back of the shop. As I pass by the shelves, I start noticing objects—items I could easily use to end his life. But that's not what I need right now. Not yet.

I spot a switch on the wall and flip it. The lights in the middle aisle go dark. The guy at the counter slams down his magazine and stands up, confused. As he looks around, I switch off another set of lights, this time at the front. Only the dim backlights remain, and that's where I am, hidden in the shadows.

He grabs a flashlight and cautiously moves toward me, calling out, but I remain silent. He reaches the switches and flips them back on. But the middle lights go dark again almost immediately.

"Shit," he mutters, heading for the supply room. A few moments later, he emerges with a new bulb and a tall stool. He climbs up, focusing on changing the bulb, oblivious to me standing below, watching him.

Once he's halfway done, I move silently, standing just beside the stool. He looks down, startled, and says, "Little girl, what are you doing?"

I grin. "Making you work before you die."

I push the stool, watching him fall. He hits his head on a metal shelf on the way down and dies instantly. I stand there for a second, looking at the mess. Then, I turn around and spot the bread I'd asked for earlier.

"This is what I came for," I say to myself, picking it up along with some money from the cash register before leaving the shop.

It starts to rain, but I keep walking. The rain is heavy, but it doesn't bother me. I'm just drifting, heading nowhere.

A car pulls up beside me. The door opens, and I hear a voice calling, "Come in for a ride, little girl."

I pause, turning to see a smiling woman behind the wheel. She has children in the back, fast asleep. Against my better judgment, I walk over and get into the car.

The woman introduces herself as Mrs. Evelyn, and she starts asking me questions. I only answer two: my name is Tracy, and I'm not heading anywhere. She offers to take me to her home for the night, saying I can rest there. There's pity in her eyes, but I don't care. I just nod.

We arrive at her house, and she gently carries her sleeping children to bed while I sit in the large living room, quietly observing everything. After settling her kids, she brings me some fresh clothes and a towel. I change and settle on the couch she offers, and she covers me with a blanket before locking the doors and sitting near me, waiting for me to fall asleep.

I'm cold and exhausted, and before I know it, I drift off.

When I wake up, the sound of children arguing over the bathroom fills the air. Mrs. Evelyn calls out, "Peter, let your sister use the bathroom first!"

I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. Mrs. Evelyn is in the kitchen, making breakfast. She notices me and smiles warmly. "Good morning, Tracy. I'll be done with breakfast soon."

I don't respond, just sit quietly, feeling oddly rested after months of sleepless nights. Soon after, she calls us to the table. Her two kids, about my age, are surprised to see me. One of them asks, "Mom, who is she?"

"She's Tracy," Mrs. Evelyn says, "our guest for now. Be nice to her."

After breakfast, she takes the kids to school, leaving me alone in the house. I turn on the TV and watch cartoons. I think about leaving before she gets back, but I like the comfort of the couch, the breakfast, and the TV. It's been a long time since I had all that.

Hours pass, and I explore the house, moving from room to room. In one, I find a bed with a doll and a shelf full of toys. It's warm, cozy, and safe here. I feel comfortable enough to lie down, and before I know it, I fall asleep.

"Tracy! Tracy!"

I wake up to the sound of Mrs. Evelyn calling my name. She finds me in the room and looks relieved. "Oh, you're still here. I thought you'd left."

"Should I have gone?" I ask, sitting up.

"No," she replies quickly. "I'm glad you stayed." She leads me to the bathroom, telling me we need to visit the police station to find out more about my family. I freeze.

"I'm not going there. I hate cops."

She notices the fear in my voice and kneels down to look me in the eyes. "It's okay. We're just going to search for your family or relatives. That's all."

"I don't have any," I say, my voice flat. "They died in a fire."

Evelyn looks taken aback, the weight of my words hitting her. She sits down, holding my hand. "I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago," I reply.

She sighs. "Okay, we won't go to the police. We'll visit social services instead."

I don't know what that is, so I don't argue. I wash up and get dressed, and we head to the social services office. Evelyn speaks with a man at the desk for what feels like hours. They ask me a few questions, and then a woman comes to take my fingerprints and a picture.

I wait, my stomach knotting with unease. After a while, I tell Evelyn I need to use the bathroom. The man points me down the hall, and as I walk away, I glance back. They're too engrossed in their conversation to notice me slip into the room where the woman went.

Inside, I find her at a computer, processing my information. She doesn't notice me until it's too late. She turns, shocked to see me standing behind her. She chokes, collapsing to the ground, clutching her chest. I watch her struggle for a moment before calmly look at my information on the computer. I could cry but I am way passed that now. The lady was now holding her chest as I got to a coat on her chair, using it to smother her.

Once she's dead and ensuring there's no trace of me, I walk back to where Evelyn is waiting.

Soon enough, there was screaming and then ambulance comes around, taking the woman away. Mrs. Evelyn and i had to leave the building. As we get into the car, she asks, "Would you like to stay with me? I'll take care of you."

I look at her, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, I nod slowly. She smiles, starts the car, and we drive home.