The Mental Patient

Chapter 32 - A Roster of Psychopathy

EVERY day at dinnertime, I eavesdropped and spoke discreetly to other patients, I wasn't only gaining knowledge about my neighbours or trying to do the whole self-medicate-thing and fit in; I was recruiting for my army, to show this world a new colour to blood. The people within employment here couldn't run a bath let alone a nut house.

Number one, Trey (The Viking) King; British origins; a young man who was bullied during his adolescent high school years returned five years later to the same school, same classroom with the idea of retribution, he blew away an unsuspecting class full of children with a Sawn-off shotgun, killing eight kids and one teacher. I could manipulate him into my Army-of-Death by bringing up the past and the idea for poetic justice against the dudes who gave him those nightmares when we have broken-free.

Number du, Jacqueline (Downer) Chaser; French origins; a welfare mother who after meeting a man with a good job, she drowned her three children, after she was caught-out for her crime she tried to take her own life, later she became a manic depressive bipolar. She is barrelled on the maybe stack.

Third in line, Anthony (Fire Stone) Clayton; Irish origins; an arsonist who set fire to a free health clinic, killing eleven people and leaving thirteen in an intensive care burns unit with third degree burn. This guy could come in handy.

Fourth, Dean (Terror-Kiss) Samuels; American; a wannabe assassin, he wanted the big-kills and knew he needed to gain a state reputation which would spread worldwide. He believed the police were his biggest threat, taken it upon his own deranged conscious to bomb three on-duty police cars; ending three officers and their careers. We will see about this one.

Number Five, Jeffery (Seven Fingers) Holmes; Scottish; an elderly man whose wife left him. He became so anti-social where he poisoned his own mind with evil thoughts. Any person who came knocking at his door, religious believers, postmen and general people from his community; he would viciously assault them and drag them down to his basement. After their murders, he removed their ring fingers, trophies for his wife, I bet. He killed several people. Definitely not taking this guy under my black wing, he's too old and he'd cause more problems than I am willing to be.

Six-Six-Sixth, David Wallis, he was a wealthy business man who when the recession hit, he lost everything, including his mind for a brief period and killed his two children and wife with a hunting rifle. If anything, this douche will be a victim, for having a weak moment of madness he will pay with his life, I mean his heart isn't in it, no passion, he has to go.

Number Seven, Oscar (The War Hero) Jewel; American; in 1979 he was a soldier on the frontline of the Vietnam War, he came back home a changed man. He held a small shopping mall hostage, acting out events, which had happened. He killed nine people while he wore a gas-mask. I salute this man but he is getting on in life, so perhaps.

Eighth, Jade (The Blonde Widow) Ross; British; Still stunning for an older woman but in her life, she married six times, turns out she poisoned her lovers and took all their money; a true black-widow. Maybe she could blow one of the orderlies into giving us the keys to the front door.

Number Nine, Brian (Bad-Seed) Connelly; Irish; This Irish guy is awesome. He raped and killed five women. One coroner quit after he was doing a post-mortem on a nineteen-year-old girl, her hands had been tied behind a tree with her bottom-jaw missing. It was later found out that he had gone back several times to her decomposing body to feed his sexual frenzy. When he climaxes in sex he starts to eat his victim's dead or alive. Sex is like crack for him. I tip my hat to this man; I need him on my side.

Double figures, Number Ten, Latoya (Regan) Cook; British; an over-paranoid lesbian who killed three of her lovers after thinking they had cheated on her. She went on the run and killed a female police officer who was tracking her down with a knife to the side of the neck. She is a hoodlum-chick so her street wise instincts are always switched on and also, she obviously knows how to throw down. I say, yes.

Two stick men, number Eleven, Troy (Son of Lucifer) Sampson; Unknown origins; his case is an interesting one to me. He was an adopted young lad who grew up in the seemingly perfect care of Father Walker. To the world everything was great especially to the on-look of little baby Jesus. Unbeknown to the public behind closed doors, the priest liked little boys, if you know what I mean. Troy was taken under the robe of this preaching paedophile for one reason and one reason only. Things went from evil to worse for Troy, as he grew up and gained his own voice, he used a profane word at the dinner table, which led to Troy having his dirty tongue removed in his So-Called-Fathers tool shed. That night he in complete agony he killed his abuser, carving up his body and mutilating it, so God could not recognize his body. The policemen on scene first state, on every wall of the young teen's home were biblical quotes written in the ministers' blood. I see a lot of my own frozen trauma within him, if I were to make friends, I believe he would be. We'll see.

Leaving the best until last, Derek (Angel of Death) Thompson; American; repeatedly raped by his father and uncle, until Derek naturally put on the muscle and when he was bigger than them, their punches stopped hurting, he killed both of them with his bare hands and removed both their genitals with a power-saw. He went on to kill thirteen other sick-perverts. Unbeknown to him, he thwarted one of the biggest child-molestation rings in America, hailing him as a national and international Hero. But, he wouldn't know that, as Derek has the mental age of a Seven-year-old. He is a deeply Christian Child-man. And, with the natural body of a steroid-infused-bodybuilder he makes for an interesting possible friend. I will need a plan of attack to get him on my side; I need him to trust me and my judgment.

I told you Dr. McKay, this means war. Kyle, don't allow them to know what is on your mind. Spoon your pudding and smile at them; you're a crazy person, remember; dribble your food and act like it. They stare at me, that's all they do, stare.

Arms crossed and frowning, Dr. McKay scopes and over analyses my every movement. I raise my water cup to him, cheers. He must know I am planning something diabolical, too bad for him he is not a clairvoyant for my conceived clever carnage. Paging Dr. Cunty McCunterson. I will write a story and kill him into history.