Psychopath Manic Eyes Novels & Stories

My eyes wide with panic, and I jerked against his grip instinctively, the blade biting into my skin just enough to make me freeze again. "Let me go, you psychopath!" I shouted, desperation bleeding into my voice. He chuckled then, low and dark, the sound vibrating through me. It wasn't the laugh of a sane man. It was the sound of someone who found pleasure in unraveling you, pulling you apart piece by piece just to see what you were made of. "Psychopath?" he repeated, as though the word amused him. "Maybe. Or maybe you just bring out the worst in me." His face was close enough now that I could see the glint of his eyes-dark and predatory, watching me like a cat cornering its prey.

She could easily be on her way. "Tori?" Grace spat, "Don't tell me that bitch is here." Grace turned to her dark haired friend, "Go get the other one." Grace's friend left without a word, and finally Grace turned her attention on me. Her blue eyes were glinting maliciously. I had never looked into the eyes of a psychopath before, but I assumed this is what they'd look like. There was no light behind her ocean blue eyes, just an emptiness that had me shaking with fear.

The man in front of me is the biggest psychopath. A muscle ticked in his jaw and see, like a psycho he gave the answer like a sadist, crushing my right wrist in his hand. It’s fucking painful but I gulp them down not exposing the injured expression on my face, he has seen my tears already. I don’t want to see the pity in his eyes. Even if it seems far more than pity, like hurt as if he is the one is hurt here.

“You have no meat on your bones.” The change in topic made her frown in confusion as she searched his face. Was he being serious? Or was this a trick question? “I was fed.” His eyes stopped glowing, and for a second, she forgot he was the psycho who intimidated others for no reason. His eyes were the most striking, beautiful amber colour she had ever seen. This close, she could see his hair was such a rich dark brown colour with a few perfectly blended blond highlights, and the rare amber eyes completed the breathtaking look. Why did all the handsome ones have to be certifiably insane?

He replies, and I watch him. His blue eyes take me in like he is sizing me up. Guaging my reaction… I study every detail of his face. Searching desperately for proof that there was once a little boy under there. Once a normal, innocent little boy who just wanted to live and grow into something beautiful. But the harder I look, all I see is a heartless bastard who isn’t capable of a single seed of goodness. All I see is a fertile field of insanity. Madness. Pure. Wicked. Madness.

He was quivering, and I bet he got the taste of suffering he’d caused other people. Just by looking at his messed state, the fright I had towards him suddenly vanished. It was replaced by amusement. He slowly approached the seat, his head was still tilted down as he sat in front of me. And when he flitted his eyes up, the first thing I noticed was his right eye. It was swollen, and the way he stared at me was screaming helplessness. His greasy hair was tousled as it cascaded to the side of his face. I didn’t pity him, I was in awe. Dmitri was a psychopath, and this was what he deserved after all.

The glass cracks and shatters into a thousand jagged pieces, reflecting his distorted, angry face. Then, he marches toward me. He grabs my arms roughly and lifts me off the bed, shaking me. His grip is so tight I know I will have new bruises tomorrow. "You ungrateful bitch!" he yells right in my face. His breath is hot against my skin, and I feel a few drops of spittle land on my cheek. The sensation makes bile rise up in my throat again. I look at his wide, crazed eyes and realize I am dealing with a bipolar manic.

Heavy mist poured into his black eyes, hiding the infinite darkness at the bottom of his eyes, leaving a vast malevolent meaning. He raised his hand and held her body tightly in his arms, only to find that she continued to tremble. William Black's eyebrows were drawn together, and his black eyes quickly roamed over her exposed calves. It would seem that the poison had not yet been eliminated. Mary in his arms suddenly became agitated, grabbed him by the collar with both hands, and suddenly opened her eyes. A pair of strange and unique fox eyes that were reddish bloodshot, with tears running in the back of her eyes as if they were dripping blood, and her brown pupils were constantly trembling

she said, her lips quivering with anger as her chest rose and fell. “I am, in fact, a psychopath,” he agreed, tilting his head slightly as he straightened to his full height. It was like the air in the room suddenly changed, like something dark had settled on the air. She gulped, but her frown didn't disappear. The smile on the man’s face had disappeared, like someone had wiped it away in one rough move. His eyes changed too. They were cold and empty, like nothing inside him cared anymore. There was no warmth there, no feeling, just a flat look that made her stomach twist. It was the kind of look that didn’t care who got hurt or how bad it was, the kind that had done terrible things and neve

Squeezing my eyes shut briefly, another tear escaped. They stood there trying to fix it, but nothing. The man beside me tsked, his eyes on his watch, before they dragged up to meet mine, and I froze. His eyes had no form of life in them, almost as though they belonged to a corpse. Who hurt him? Who made him this way? I wondered. Have you ever heard of psychopaths? Isabella, some people don't need someone to hurt them or get evil. Some were born evil, just like him.