psycho |c.h| |b.s|

|a.k|

dear psycho,

why do you call yourself psycho?

i never really understood it.

anyways,

i stare at you because you're beautiful..

is that a bad thing?

from,

asian (kiwi/scottish) boy.

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a smirk planted on my face as i slid the note into my little box, which lived under my bed in the corner of all the dust.

i wouldn't say i'm mean, or evil.

i'm psycho

i call myself psycho for a reason, do i not?

my smirk faded as my door slammed open to see my evil psychotic father standing in the doorway with another vodka bottle, half empty.

"you're so stupid, why are you still in my house," he slurred, throwing the vodka bottle at me, but i underestimated him by grabbing it and throwing it at his face. "oh, you whore,"

my previous smirk was brought back to my face as i grabbed the bottle again and threw it at his face once more, causing it to break into little pieces on the floor.

he groaned a bunch of a times as he stumbled back, tripping and falling down the stairs.

my smirk became wider as i then followed him down the stairs to see if he's still alive.

he laid on the floor with his arms awkwardly above his head and his neck turned to the side.

wow, it feels like forever since i've been downstairs, and i can say that i don't miss it.

my eyes scanned the dark walls and all of the records and alcohol bottles on the ground, covering the carpet and floors.

what a scumbag. i thought, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"richard, where are y- who are you?" a lady voice panicked from behind the counter.

i looked over to see a lady in just a old band t-shirt and underwear, i hope.

i didn't answer her, since i don't talk, and i walked over to her slowly, causing her to back up until she met the wall.

she gulped, and her eyes wandered over to my hopefully dead father lying on the ground. gulping again, her eyes widened in fear, making a smirk appear on my face.

but my smirk remained and grew ever bigger as i listened to her desperate pleads and begs.

"please don't, kill me." she begged, closing her eyes.

i shook my head and looked at my father once more before turning back to her.

i grabbed a notebook from the side-table, me not making her lose fear at all.

i won't hurt you, darling.

i'm his daughter.

if you know what's best, leave.

i'm psycho.

i showed her the message and she nodded, looking up at me.

"let me help you." she pleaded, grasping my hands, causing me to pull back and jump away, shaking my head. "your father has told me about you, sweetie. you have talent. you're a beautiful young lady. please, just let me help you."

my teeth gritted in anger as i grabbed the pen again.

i don't know who the hell you are,

but don't tell me what i do and don't need.

i'm psycho lady.

i have no meaning in this world.

you know nothing about me.

leave this house.

now.

she sighed, biting her lip. "arianna, please."

how do you know my name?

"again, your father told me much about you."

my eyes squinted and my teeth let go of it's tight hold on each other and i let out a breath, throwing down the pen and notebook, and i looked back at the lady. crossing my arms.

she let go of a breath and she closed her eyes, before re-opening them. "i'm nicole. i was your fathers.. i don't know, we weren't dating. nothing had happened. he called me for help, and he spilled coffee on me, so i just changed into this. i was talking to him, and he had gotten the wrong impression of what i said so he went up and took it out on you. he wanted what was best for you, arianna. please let me help you."

i shook my head, biting my lip and looking back at my father, and then back at nicole.

she looked at me with hopeful eyes and i grabbed the pad again.

no one can help me, nicole.

don't you see?

i enjoy pain.

i enjoy causing others pain.

i like the feeling i get when people around me are hurt.

crying.

bleeding.

begging.

i'm a psycho.

i'm not good.

i'm terrible.

how can you want to help someone like me?

someone so,

breakable

and impossible.

you make no sense.

she mumbled things to herself before running her fingers through her blonde locks of hair.

"look arianna, obviously you aren't heal-"

what do you mean

i'm not healthy?

oh nicole.

stupid,

helpless,

oblivious nicole.

i'm highly healthy.

it's just,

as i told you,

and i will tell you again,

i am psycho. 

no one can help me.

it's the way i am.

why are you still here?

trying?

breathing?

"i'm still here because it's what i do." she grumbled, fixing her posture, squinting her eyes at me.

two can play at this game, bitch.

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