High Functioning Sociopath Novels & Stories

His gaze is predatory, calculating, the look you see on nature documentaries when apex predators are deciding which gazelle looks most vulnerable. I’m mentally cataloging all the ways he probably sucks—definitely has a cocaine problem, probably treats service staff like disposable furniture, almost certainly calls women “females” in casual conversation—when he pushes off from the wall and starts moving through the crowd with the fluid grace of someone who’s never had to consider whether he can afford the next drink. Networking, I assume. Pressing flesh with people who matter while completely ignoring everyone who doesn’t have the right last name, portfolio value, or potential to advance his

Definition of Psychopath: : a mentally unstable person especially: a person having an egocentric and antisocial personality marked by a lack of remorse for one's actions, an absence of empathy for others, and often criminal tendencies Tessa "Okay I'm being nice, I'll let you choose, right or left." The man whimpered, shaking like a leaf, probably pissing his pants off by the smell of it. I stood to his front, clicking the steel cutter waiting for him to choose which pinkie finger he was going to let me cut.

I begin carefully, but the care doesn’t last long, “he just tried to kill someone. Stabbed someone so hard they nearly bled out, and you want me to be ‘nice’ to him?” Her lips press into a thin line. “But, he’s not inherently evil. He can… he can change. He’s not a bad man.” “No.” My voice snaps like a whip. The rearview mirror reflects her startled face, and I can see her tensing, bracing herself. “No. He doesn’t change. He’s a fucking sociopath. And the second he gets the chance, he will do exactly what he did today, or worse. He will take someone’s life to get what he wants. And if it’s you in his way? Do you really think he’d hesitate?”

“Right, Stematography.” “You’re not even sure of the concept,” I parrot. “Tristan… sorry, he-who’s-dead to me is unstable. He’s a sociopath with antisocial disorder. Of course, he has a pattern. Even Dahmer had a pattern.” “We’ve searched every hidden place,” Damon completely ignores my protests and ambles to the center of the room. “What do you see in plain sight?” “I see your stupidity.” “No, I mean plain sight,” he says, popping the ‘P.’

“I changed my mind, I want this asshole to beg, but before you do, I want you to apologize to Cara for what you did to her.” The deputy looked up at Rancid and stared into his eyes. “Fuck you, she was the best pussy I’ve ever had and I’d do it again.” “How did you ever get to be a lawman? What kind of sick fuck pretends to protect the public and then takes advantage of them?” Ashley spoke up, “He’s a sociopath.” “What’s that mean?” “He has no remorse for what he does.” “I see that.” “What you’re doing won’t do any good, you can’t change him or his ways.”

I just cannot accept it. "Because of how bad they are as people, you are referring to them as evils, and the reason for this is the dreadful character they possess. But are you aware of the one who poses the greatest threat to humanity on this planet? Someone who maintains a pleasant outward demeanour toward you while harbouring malicious intent against you on the inside is a sociopath. This group of individuals is outrageously cruel to the rest of humanity!"

She immediately clicked the site and read through it. "The most serial killer traits are: Lack of Empathy, Lack of Remorse, Impulsivity, Grandiosity, Narcissism, Superficial Charm, Manipulation, Addictive Personality, Lust for Power, Sensation Seeking, The Macdonald Triad" she read through and with a disturbed look she raised her head from her laptop. "Lack of Empathy?" Her voice trailed. She tried imagining how Stephanie was, with the little time she got to know Stephanie, she wanted to check if her characteristics match these ones on G****e.

Normally, I wouldn’t even remember my previous address. “Why do you ask?” he taunted. I was going to break his nose, too, and that was going to be a shame because he was the guy who stitched people up usually. “Why are you not fucking answering?” I raised my voice. Carter was a Savage, but he wasn’t a savage, if you catch my drift. He was a badass, sure, but not as aggressive and nasty as Derek and I were, unless you really pissed him off. But make no mistakes. He was the quiet sociopath who was more dangerous than all of us combined.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you. An obsessive person isn’t as bad as a psychopath.” “Huh?” Sydney was confused. Finn grinned. “Nothing.” He was born without empathy or fear, so he was called a monster and a psychopath. He was indeed a psychopath and he knew it. He had an unhealthy bloodthirst and life meant nothing to him. He could do terrible things just to achieve his goal.

Every day we fight on the same matter. That I don’t fulfill my responsibilities. Technically I do but in my own way. Which in Dad’s words is disrespect towards him. But his words don’t matter to me. In fact, no one matters to me because I’ve been like this, indifferent and cold since childhood. People call me a sociopath because I hate people, they call me a psychopath too because I lack feelings. I am immune to emotions so maybe hybrid would be a better term to name me.