Psycho Scream Novels & Stories

Without wasting time, she quickly removed it, and at the sight of that face that reminded her so much of her mother, she broke down to0 tears. Bryan jumped about happily, holding onto the big soft hand that held him. it was his aunty walking him down the same pond they had both met. He was glad he got to meet her again. They made canoes and boats with paper and she helped him sail them. This was just the perfect moment. He wished this moment would never come to an end. But just then, his hands began to slip from hers. It was like a force that kept pulling her away from him. He screamed out her name but she only turned and smiled at him in return. He screamed again, even louder this time but

He was… amused. I found myself by the lake, the vast expanse of gray water doing nothing to calm the panic rising in my chest. I should call someone. Matteo. Alessia. The police. But what would I say? A man I used to know sent me a creepy text? There was no explicit threat. It was psychological warfare, and Sebastian was a master of it. My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I flinched, my heart leaping into my throat. I pulled it out slowly, dread a cold stone in my gut.

The smell of the room—bleach and dust—mixes with the scent of my own distress. I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my screams. It tastes like stale smoke. "Purge it," Echo commands. "Get it out." I climax. It hurts. My muscles spasm violently, cramping around the toy. I scream into the pillow, tears soaking the fabric. It feels like I’m vomiting up the trauma, expelling the memory of the camera lens, the guard’s gun, the look on Lena’s face. "Again," Echo says. He doesn't let me rest. He keeps the toy hammering.

Just her and the work and the plan laid out in the notebooks stacked neatly at the end of the bench. She pulled the first notebook toward her. Opened it. Her own handwriting from three years ago. Neat and precise and completely certain about everything it was doing. *Subject profile: Damien Voss. CEO Voss Industries. Age 31. Psychological assessment consistent with primary psychopathy with elevated fixation markers. History of obsessive attachment to objects and concepts. No documented romantic relationships. Suspected olfactory sensitivity above baseline. Potential susceptibility to compound V7 estimated at 89% based on psychographic modeling.*

I prop my phone on a stack of coasters, hit GO LIVE on the Riverbend Buy-N-Sell F******k group, and blow the camera a kiss. “Evening, y’all. Place your bets and your loads. Clock starts now.” First up is Tommy Lee, diesel mechanic, grease still under his nails. He drops his jeans, lines up, and slides home in one thrust. I’m already wet from the tequila shots and the sheer filth of what I’m doing. He groans like he’s dying, pumps exactly eight times, and unloads so hard I feel it splash my cervix. One. He pulls out, slaps my clit with his sloppy cock, and writes a fresh tally on my thigh with the Sharpie chained to the table. The chat explodes, 73 fire emojis in ten seconds.

I screamed loudly before everything blacked out. Stapsy ❣️ 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭 . ...

I rasped again, gasping as I scooped sand from my nails. The first psycho raised her knife high, laughing. I couldn't hear him. His gorgeous voice. I couldn't see him. His beautiful face. “NIKKIE!” I suddenly screamed as loud as I could, “Nikkie!” I screamed again, like screaming his name would stop him from leaving me. “No!” I continued to scream, forgetting words as I tried to keep fragments of his image in my head. His beautiful smile, The way his blue eyes glittered whenever he laughed.

now it . Oh, God! Oh, God! Shea screamed out very loud, the horror bursting from her throat. His cock... Oh, shit, shit. This is messed up. This is so messed up. His cock lay on the dirty floor, twitching like some grotesque thing.

Then the air turned to glass, and Samantha’s scream tore through the psychic bond. It wasn't a normal sound. It wasn’t even about pain. This was a primal roar of witch fire; raw, ancient, and unfiltered power that slammed into my skull like a freight train. The room literally staggered sideways. My fingers dug into the grain of the table as the floor began to vibrate. No…not the floor. Me.

Kai saw it. Kai missed a lot of things in life. But not that. His lips curved, slow and knowing. So he really is that much of a psycho.