A Generation Of Sociopaths Novels & Stories

How dare he try to deceive me, to think I was naively gullible, so dumb and not see right through his lies? Alex released a long sigh of defeat. My heart raced like a runway train as I confronted him, my entire body trembling with a mixture of rage and disbelief. I had always trusted him, believed in him, thought that he was a good person deep down despite all the mad and debatable stuff he had done in his life. I had blamed his shattered personality on the cruel fate of our family. But it was time for me to finally admit that my brother was a sociopath.

"I did everything for you! How dare you throw me under the bus!" "For me? You clearly did this because you resented Audrey!" As they fought like dogs, I turned my attention to Lucy's friends. They panicked, crying out, "This is a civilized society! If you kill us, you'll face legal consequences!" Troy put his hand on my shoulder and sneered at them. "Do you really think I'm afraid? I must have played nice for too long, making you forget who I really am." They fell silent, suddenly remembering that Troy had been a violent criminal since childhood, thanks to his genetic condition. Many called him a psychopath, others whispered about his “rage episodes”.

"And do not blame me for your actions, you killed yourself while I died fighting. You took the coward's way out." Sophia kept on walking. Apparently the only thing she felt was rage. It was the only emotion that kept her burning. "I wanted to change the world, Sophia," The voice said. "Well, you did, father, you turned the world into a fucking hell scape." Sophia retorted. Anyone who came across her would think she was insane and talking to herself. She was insane but she was not really talking to herself. Her father's ghost had been an unwanted companion throughout her journey. Mason Laurent was a self proclaimed visionary who believed that he could change the world by infecting it with a v

A stranger would get confused on how he got to that top, especially with the Prime estates rate in the stock exchange market, But I know what he is, the devil's progeny, a predator hiding in the mist of sheep. He must have been under a lot of pressure for him to move from a lifesaver to a murderer. Which is what the mafia world can do to any one. Takes away one's youthful days, no friends, no trustees. You can trust no one but yourself. It's impossible to be part of the mafia world and be sane. If a doctor could be a Killer, imagine what it could make a kid do. If I were to ever have children for Vincenzo he better make sure he will never force his ways on them. “Also, my kids are not going

“I think if I remain stubborn, I’ll find a way to get to the truth. Ellie deserves that.” “You’re watching James. That’s why you came early for Thanksgiving,” Gabe said. Zane nodded slowly. “As much as I can. He’ll slip up eventually. Most sociopaths do. He wants attention, fame, and power. That’s what winning means to him. One day, he’ll make a mistake.” Gabe’s respect for Zane Roberts grew. He couldn’t help but admire the man’s patience and determination. Personally, he wanted to kill James for what he’d done to Chloe. He wasn’t sure he could see the bastard again without smashing his head into the ground.

When enough people had assembled, she projected several datasets onto the wall. "Okay," she said. "I think I've figured out what's changing." Marra raised an eyebrow. "Only one thing?" Laughter moved through the room. Sophie ignored it. "The older generations were raised inside a narrative of improvement." She enlarged one of the displays. "Every major institution taught roughly the same lesson. Life gets better through progress." No one disagreed. That seemed obvious. Sophie switched to another dataset. "The younger generations inherited something different." "What?" Elias asked.

Even from beings like me who were convinced we never had one to begin with. Yes, it’s true that Razek are truly the most vile species ever conceived. Patricide, fratricide, genocide—we’re world-enders, plain and simple. No thought but the mission. No purpose but the kill. No feeling, only calculated and choreographed suffering. I was that. For a thousand years, I cut down and consumed everything in my path. Spent a thousand more in a hell pit—literally—to learn my lesson. Return balance and impart karma—or something like it—to my conscience and soul. Only, I didn’t have one until I killed a white-haired innocent, and bam.

Jessica started telling Naomi stories about my summer of academic obsession, while Naomi filled her in on my tendency to shut people out. “She used to do this in high school too,” Naomi explained. “Remember when Brad Morrison asked you to middle school homecoming and then took Chelsea Peterson instead? You didn’t talk to anyone for like three weeks.” “That was completely different,” I said. “How was it different?” “Brad Morrison was a twelve-year-old idiot who changed his mind about a dance. This was…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. “This was someone you trusted completely who turned out to be a sociopath,” Jessica said matter-of-factly. “I get it. But you can’t punish

The man huffs a humorless laugh. “The family I work for … there is … eh … was three boys.” The pause on ‘was’ prickles goosebumps along my arms, leaving me wondering what happened. Another sigh rattles out of him, heavy enough to shake the glass. “Brothers,” the man insists. His voice grows colder, heavier. “Living proof that psychopathy is genetic.” He’s got me all curious. “The youngest one … he was a real good guy. Straight shooter. A lover, not a fighter.” His mouth twitches, as though the memory still tastes sweet and sour at the same time.

“All his life you have wormed your way into people's hearts, spreading misconceptions about your brother in the hopes of tainting their love for him. You stole all the affection for yourself, like a leech. Soaking it all in, basking in their praise of you. As if you were worth it. Leaving your poor brother to shrivel in your worthless shadow.” “Wow. Is that how he spun it?” Cash asks, impressed. His casual cheerfulness enrages her. “He can sure turn a tale, can't he? His only problem was he was an endurable bastard, even as a small child. He was hateful, spiteful and malicious. He was born a sociopath and will die one. Without ever have shown true affection to anyone other than himself.” Cas