The Secrets of a Psychopath

It was a beautiful evening. The sky was a bright orange, blending in with softer hues of yellow and pink. Scarlet and I were laying on the picnic blanket, her head resting on my chest with my arm curled around her.

“I had a great time tonight.” I said in a tender voice.

“Oh, me too. Although every time we go out I never fail to enjoy myself. So I can’t say I am surprised.” Scarlett said with a giggle, “Thank you for dinner, Kyle.” 

Instead of replying I simply squeeze her a little tighter. Sometimes it is hard to be me. You see, I have an addiction. No, not to drugs. Not to alcohol. Not to sex. No, I am addicted to something much worse. I, Kyle Triosi, am addicted to murdering. The first step is acceptance, right?  

It all started when I was a child. I had the usual beginning signs of a psychopath, I was just better at hiding it than any of the people you see on TV. I always got some kind of sick enjoyment from watching the eyes of rabbits, birds, squirrels—anything I could catch—drain of life. Sometimes I wonder if my life would be different if I had been caught. Would I be who I am today? Would I have gotten help? No, I think, I would be locked up in a crazy house somewhere. For years I would catch animals multiple times a week. It started off with small animals, such as squirrels and rabbits. Although, as I got older it just was not enough. By the time I was 16 I was going after cats and at the age of 17 I even caught my first stray dog. You are probably thinking that I was a weird and lonely kid. Wrong. In fact, I was the quarterback for my highschool team. I lived a fairly normal life. I got good grades, got accepted into a good college, and was living my life up to everybody’s standards. Behind the scenes though, my love and addiction to murdering was growing. Soon, not even dogs were enough to satisfy. Which is why, when I turned 22, I had studied enough criminology to know how to get away with a murder. This is when I committed my first murder. It was my old psychology professor. There was nothing wrong with her, in fact, I quite liked her. But she was an easy target. I guess I have to admit there is a bit of irony that the first human murder I commit was to the one person who should have been able to predict it.

Anyways, back to the present. I am 27 now, and from the time that I killed the lovely Ms. Clark to this point, I have committed approximately 35 murders. This, according to my math, is about 2 months between every murder. My murders consist of random strangers out at the wrong time and also people I know that give me an easy opportunity. I cannot go into details as to HOW I get away with all of these murders, but I have to say, being a trusted cop in the town that I grew up in definitely helps. That’s me, Officer Triosi. I am not married, for obvious reasons, but I do enjoy the dating scene. Hence the reason my girlfriends usually tend to stick around a little longer than the others. However, it is always hard for me once the girl and I start to become serious. They always start to want more. More commitment, more alone time, more more more.  You may be wondering how people don’t notice that all of my girlfriends go missing. This is actually quite easy to explain. You see, just like when I was in high school, I keep my life a secret. I do not get close to anyone, so most people never even realize that I have a girlfriend. Fortunately for my girlfriends, I am a little more humane about my murders when it comes to someone I like. Most of my enjoyment comes from watching them die. Not necessarily how they die.  Like Scarlet here, we have been seeing each other for a few months. It is just a casual thing, and I really do like her. But she is getting too attached. Because of this, I decided tonight is the night. Bye bye, Scarlet.

Scarlet and I pack up our basket from our picnic, and we begin to walk towards my car. Tonight is the night, I think to myself. This morning was a busy morning for me, and I had actually already committed a murder. Two in one day, that’s a new record. You see, I had a gardener. Had. Today, he was pounding on my door at four in the morning trying to get me to give him an advance. Advance? I was barely wanting to pay him for the sloppy work he did do! Let’s just say he pushed a few too many of my buttons. By noon, after his “work” was done, he was hanging on the wall of my guest bedroom. (I couldn’t have the blood get all over everything, so it was limited to the one room.) I did not have time to take his body out to the woods around my house (literally, around my house, I live in the middle of the mountains) so I guess Scarlet will have an unpleasant surprise awaiting her. Once we drive up to my house I walk around the car and smile, opening the door for her. Once she gets out we hold hands and walk to my front door. I take a deep breath, this is it. Once I let her in, I let her sit on the couch and go to get us some drinks. I spike hers with a drug that will leave her aware, but it will slowly start to paralyze her from the neck down after about fifteen minutes. I walk back into the living room…

 

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He walks back into the living room, carrying our drinks. His house has a strange smell, but I cannot quite put my finger on it. I don’t care, he’s my dream guy, I think to myself. He sits down next to me and hands me my drink, a perfectly mixed cocktail. I smile and kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you.” He smiles and takes a sip of his equally perfect looking cocktail. We talk for about ten minutes after we finish drinking. My head feels a little funny. I roll my eyes, I guess I don’t hold my alcohol as well as I used to. He starts to kiss me, and immediately you can tell things are getting pretty heated. He leads me to a door that I assume is his bedroom. While we kiss, he opens the door, leading me inside then gently kissing me against the closed door. I do not dare open my eyes, because I do not want to ruin the moment. He lays me down on a bed and continues to kiss me for a few more moments. As soon as I notice the funny smell had grown much stronger, I open my eyes and he stops kissing me. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. Then something starts to form on the wall. A shape. After a few moments I notice it is a body. I am about to scream, but Kyle shoves something in my mouth. I try to move, but to my horror I realize my body is no longer taking orders from my brain. I am petrified. Kyle leaves the room for a moment, and then comes back with a needle in his hand. I feel a small prick in my neck. I start to see black spots. I see Kyle looming above me, focused on my eyes. I look him in the eyes one last time, feeling nothing but terror and hatred. Then, nothing.