Black Psychopath Novels & Stories

Or hear him. My brother Ty is a legit psychopath. He has a special gift for being able to creep around the woods unheard and unseen. Stalking, hunting, and capturing are his specialty, second to his ability to get in and out of houses without making a sound or getting caught. And that's how my brother has saved over fifty dogs—and also how he's put several animal offenders in the hospital, nearly beaten to death. To say he likes to inflict pain and suffering would be an understatement.

He does have a conscience to tell him it is wrong but he ignores it. Where as his father, Dave, is a classic psychopath. He truly sees nothing wrong with his behavior. In his mind he believes that he is in the right, doing what is needed to keep these women in line. He has no conscience to tell him that it is wrong. All he has are his delusions or beliefs, whichever you want to call them, that take over his mind and urge him to do the things that he does.

"I've known my fair share." "Would you say it is normal for someone to be both a sadist and a masochist? Or do you at least have experience with the two sides in a single personality?" Jessa asked. Her gray eyes were alive with intelligence and wonder. I shook my head. "The players I know tend to stay on their side of the slash. Add to that his psychopathic tendencies." I shook my head again. "That is a combination I've never come into contact with." "What is this psychopathic business? My son is not a monster," Momma said with a growl in her voice.

She replied pretending to be ignorant of what Carolina meant. "Elena, he is a fucking psychopath. A deadly criminal for that matter. He is dangerous." Carolina stated almost as if checking if Elena had probably forgotten those facts about the guy. "Yes, and he has psychological issues. He is still a patient and he deserves to be treated." Elena just earned a dead stare from Carolina who looked at her as if she was missing her head.

as he sped toward theirdestination. In the car, Tatiana frowned and said, "My memory is terrible. I told you before that this criminal isn't a true psychopath. He's just mimicking certain murder techniques. He can't possibly have the mindset of a real twisted killer. A genuine psychopath seeks psychological thrills, but this imitator doesn't." As she spoke, Tatiana's emotions nearly broke down. "I should have figured this out earlier! I just couldn't remember. When did my memory get so bad? I really can't recall anything!"

His face contorted as he thrashed in a frenzy. "Let me go! Let go of me now, or I'll kill every single one of you!" The officers restraining him rushed forward, pale-faced. "Chief Turner, the perpetrator arrested in the south district case is a psychopath, and he looks exactly like you." The man howled with a twisted expression. "Let me go, or I'll slaughter you all!" At the sight of that face, my soul instinctively shuddered. It was as if grimy nails were digging into my flesh once more. Even though I was already dead, the taste of blood rose in my throat.

He checks me up, his eyes lingering on my now half exposed breasts. “Don't worry though if you end up bleeding to death,I'll just throw your body into the sea. Of course after I fuck your perfect gorgeous body.” I wince at the crudeness of his words. Indeed, he is a psychopath. Who talks about raping a dead body like it a recipe they are discussingdiscussing? “You are sick in the head.”I spat and the man just grins. “You are not the first one to tell me that sweetness.I have always been sick in the head. Tell me something new.”he shrugs nonchalantly.

The estate gates disappear behind us as we merge onto the highway. "Have you ever heard of psychopaths?" His voice is low, dangerous. I roll my eyes. "Obviously." "And do you know what they do?" I hesitate, narrowing my eyes at him. "What’s your point?" "The worst of them will make you wish you’d ended up with a rogue," he murmurs. "Creative sadistic fuckers, those ones." A chill runs down my spine, though I refuse to show it. I don’t know what it is in his tone—the certainty, the calmness—but it unsettles me.

I stare sideways at him with a grin. He sighed, giving me a pity-look, just the one I hated the most. "You find me pitiful?" My tongue roll over my teeth in a scoff. "No, you're a psychopath," a laugh that lasted only a second burst out of his lips. "You're lonely, but you sure have one weird way of solving that.. i only sympathize with your victim and the reporters that thinks they've got a big scoop everytime it happens when they're just pawns on your chess board,"