Evelyn American Psycho Novels & Stories

"If I didn't know any better I would have mistakenly thought it was me in the crosshairs! I must admit I am curious. What precisely gives you so much confidence? I mean most women would be crying, begging, hell maybe even piss themselves in fear, yet here you are glaring me down. God you truly are one who stands above the herd in everyway. I can see why that Irish shit bag and Carlos are so taken by you. Maybe I will even sample what is so great tonight." ""Do you really want to know what is keeping me so calm? Imagining one of the many different outcomes for you!" Evelyn sneered rubbing her cheek that had been slapped earlier. "HAHA and let me tell you. Especially for you and the human hog

POV: Evelyn They say healing comes in waves. Mine came in chaos—cryptic messages, my ex boyfriend lies, and a man I never meant to fall for. It started with a trap. Damian and I, cornered by secrets and shadows, devised a plan to catch the ghost who had been haunting me—“E.”

The mere thought of abortion made Evelyn's heart ache and bleed. ___________ Amidst the chaotic, honking cars on the road, Evelyn's mind was in disarray. Unbeknownst to her, tears streamed down her cheeks. Wiping them away, she looked at the report once more, contemplating her next move. Just then, a voice called out from behind, causing her to freeze in fear. "Evelyn?" Evelyn turned around, horrified to see Kevin, Alaric's best friend, standing there. Kevin's voice was laced with suspicion as he questioned her, "What are you doing in front of a hospital, Evelyn?"

Night fell. The firelight from the fireplace flickered against the tall windows. Evelyn sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, speaking softly through her phone—checking in with one of her therapy clients. Her voice was gentle, low and soothing like water. When Nicholas pushed the door open, that soft tone drifted toward him, brushing against his ears like a feather. He stopped at the doorway. For a moment, without realizing it, he listened. Under the warm glow of the lamp beside her, he could see her calm, graceful face. She had studied psychology for four years and was now interning at a counseling firm under a listed company.

I am crying because I have never felt so seen and so lost at the same time. What is happening to me? The parking garage is dark and cold when I arrive that night. The folder is in my hands, thin and white, filled with the fake records Liam gave me. My palms are sweating. My heart is a drum. Evelyn is waiting in a small room on the third floor. Her grey suit is perfect. Her hair is pulled back tight. Her eyes are cold, flat, and then eyes of a woman who has seen too much and felt too little. She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes.

Evelyn didn’t deny it. Didn’t argue. Didn’t defend herself. Instead, she simply said: “I didn’t intend to.” Silence. Ama felt sick. Because she remembered the recording. The confession. The guilt. The regret. And now she was hearing it from Evelyn herself. “I only wanted the files.” Daniel stared at her. “The Project Sophia files.” Evelyn nodded. “Victor refused to hand them over.” The room became deathly quiet. Then she added: “So I forced the issue.”

Evelyn said, catching me as I stared blankly at a child struggling to untangle a rainbow kite nearby. “It’s just the espresso kicking in,” I replied. But even my usual comfort drink couldn’t steady me, couldn’t pull me away from the storm in my head. I’ve spent years mastering my craft, navigating challenges without breaking stride—and yet here I was, unraveling over a man. A man. The thought felt absurd. Did I really have to go as far as that procedure Clementine underwent in the movie Charity and I had watched earlier that morning? “Oof, I can see it all over your face,” Evelyn said bluntly. She sliced into her strawberry-filled croissant on her small plate, lifting a piece with her fork.

Evelyn's POV After the video call ended, I stood in the middle of the living room staring at the dark screen for far longer than any psychologically stable person probably should have. The apartment had gone quiet again, the kind of quiet that only became noticeable after hearing someone’s voice you missed too much. I could still picture Evelyn perfectly from seconds ago—the windblown hair, the flushed nose from the cold, the excitement in her eyes whenever she talked about Yellowstone—and annoyingly, none of those images seemed interested in leaving my head anytime soon.

“My temperature’s normal, my breathing’s normal, my blood pressure’s normal, and my heart rate’s normal. I’m fine. I’m not that impulsive when facing air.” But when facing Amanda, he couldn’t hold back. Brad elegantly sat down across from him and said, “The driver’s broken through, and it’s been revealed that Evelyn is behind this. Evelyn was caught in the hospital, but she’s not mentally clear. She keeps saying she saw a ghost last night.” Benjamin: “!” “What happened next?” Benjamin asked. “Then the doctors diagnosed her with a mental issue, and she’s been sent to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.” Brad handed him the diagnosis report.