You can't "fix" a Psychopath

CHapTer oNe

It was cold and damp on the streets of London that night, the night I found my target. I had been searching for months to find someone who might as well not exist. When he gets arrested everybody knows his name and information, but when you try to find him, it's impossible. I had just found a lead on the Internet that probably wasn't very reliable, but at this point I was desperate. Over the years I have heard many stories of how villains could change with love. And how psychopaths gained sanity with compassion. But I am here to tell you that those authors were sadly mistaken. Jim Moriarty was a psychopath. We say that today just to convey the idea that he was crazy. But, do you know what the actual definition of a psychopath is?

1: a mental disorder in which an individual manifests amoral and antisocial behavior, lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships, extreme egocentricity, failure to learn from experience, etc.

In English, that means that a psychopath tends to be antisocial, they don't learn from mistakes, but most of all they do not posses the ability to love anyone or feel remorse for their actions. So, to think that you can change Jim Moriarty or make him love you because he is just misunderstood, is pure stupidity. I would know, he's the one that killed me. I arrived at my destination hoping to receive any information I could about Jim. I turned the corner only to find myself immediately surrounded by a group of four threateningly large men. How could I have been so stupid to meet a stranger in an ally in the middle of the night!? Or in this case, strangers. One of them whistled.

"Who have we got here boys? Pretty princess looks lost." He walked up to me and leaned down so his face was only inches from mine. "Are you all right sweetheart?" His breath smelled of onion and garlic that had been rotting for a couple years, and it looked as if he hadn't shaved for about a week. He reached up to stroke my face. I grabbed his hand, twisted it behind his back, turned him around, and broke his wrist. I pulled the knife out of the side of his belt before I let him fall to the ground. He yelled out in pain and managed to say "Don't just stand there.... kill her!" I dropped the knife and pulled out the gun I kept in my purse. After one look at the gun, the three men ran back onto the streets leaving their wounded companion on the ground.

I put my gun back in my purse and turned to leave. I only took a few steps before someone yanked me onto the ground. The man I had just knocked down was on top of me. He put his hand over my mouth and whispered, "Watch out for Jim, you'll never be safe around him." I heard a gun go off. I knew it, that lead had to have been from Jim. I pushed myself out from under the man and frantically looked for the person that killed him. I didn't know if I was saved, or if I was next.

I saw a man standing a few feet away. "You know Darlin, you really ought to be more careful when walking on the streets of London by yourself, in the middle of the night." He spoke with an Irish accent that was to die for. I instantly knew that the person who shot him, was Jim Moriarty. I straightened my shirt and asked a question that I already knew the answer to. "Did you set this up? The anonymous tip of where to find you, the thugs?" He sighed in a way that made him sound annoyed. "Yes of course I did. Why would you even bother to ask. I mean, really it's quite obvious."

I stood there speechless. Even though I had rehearsed what to say a thousand times all I could do was stare at him. I tried to gather my thoughts. "My name is Rave-" he cut me off before I could finish. "Raven Locke yes, I know who you are. I also know you've been trying to find me for months. You really shouldn't keep what you're going to say to a world class criminal, on your phone." He giggled then started walking around in circles like a bored child. "I thought you would be at least a little bit smarter than this. Most people don't make it this far." I relaxed my shoulders and replied. "Well I never implied that I was smart, just resourceful." He rolled his eyes. "You call this resourceful?

You don't know the first thing about resourceful." He said, in a laugh. I decided to play my big card. "What about Sabrina, or Tim. They seemed pretty resourceful." He suddenly became very serious. "How do you know those names? Who told you that!?" He yelled. I smiled at him "I told you love, I'm a very resourceful person." "What do you want?" He snapped. "A job." I replied. "Fine, you can earn a spot under my employment if you comply with two conditions. First, don't call me "love". Second, never mention those names again. Do we have an agreement?" "Yes, I believe we do."