Novel & Cerita Psychopath Stories

I wouldn't want Maxwell saying I was an hindrance to his fiancee. She talking about the story I talked about earlier, I felt some part of it was true but what if it was all lies? What if he didn't rape her? But Maxwell is someone who would do anything when he is at his very own state. He usual sickness that made dad treat him horrible just like an animal is being treated.

I couldn’t go back on my promise. “Where are your men?” I asked him, when I looked around and found no one. I wondered whether the one whose head I had smacked against the wall was still in that room. He shrugged. “I have no idea and I don’t even care. I see the wary looks they give me. They all think I’m crazy. But they do all I ask them to anyway because I pay them.” He sighed. “This was not what I pictured my life as a wealthy man would be like. I was never this depressed when I was poor. At least I had a woman who truly loved me but now, I’ve turned into a psychopath.”

"You're finally getting the hang of this! Luckily, you didn't try to talk about money with me—how boring that would be? I love it when people want to play games with me. That's what makes it thrilling. Money is worthless compared to that." Hearing the man's laughter, Theodore knew he was dealing with a psychopath. The way the kidnappers had died made it clear that this man wasn't interested in money. A psychopath who didn't care about money would only be interested in sick games, deriving pleasure from torturing others. It was a thrill far greater than wealth for them. "So, Mr. Spencer, are you willing to play a game with me?" "Yes, I'm willing," Theodore said. "Tell me what you want."

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Chapter 2 Sophia’s POV “The sound of a deep voice like yours sometimes. The way fabric rubs right against my clit when I walk. Even the smell of clean male skin or aftershave. It’s humiliating. I feel like such a fucking freak.” “My last doctor just gave me antidepressants and said it was all in my head, just anxiety. But it’s not anxiety. It’s like my pussy has a mind of its own and it wants cock twenty-four seven.” “I wake up soaked and aching every morning, I go to bed soaked and aching every night, and in between I’m fighting the urge to grind against anything I can find just to get a little relief.”

The two bodyguards stood still when they heard me laugh. “Take it easy because I’m not crazy. Can you believe that now there are psychopaths who want to play games with me?” Believe it or not, it’s up to them. walking slowly toward the window; I picked up the bed cover that I used to wrap the man’s head. “This ... I used to wrap his head earlier.” I was babbling like a depressed person. How come? The psychopath made me feel depressed to the point of disgust. I continued walking while the two people were just listening. Then take my laptop that fell. Maybe it’s broken by now. Shit!

I could still hear my voice echo faintly around us. I couldn't hold it back anymore, it had to be said. This man was a psychopath, a sadist, a deranged cult leader, he was everything in the book that was wrong. I makes me wonder what happened in his life made him the way he is now. No one is just born with a mindset like this, it's disturbing and upsetting that these were his beliefs that he stands by. Ian looks calmly to me. His expression was completely relaxed, which scared me. But I stand by every word I said.

Yet, to Byron, it didn't seem right. When he got her talking about the other girls, to forget her nervousness and actually talk about them, she did so with such fondness, and love. He knew mental illness could make people do strange things that only made sense to them. He also knew the mentally ill were far more likely to be victims of a crime than perpetrators, contrary to what the media and millions of horror movies have taught us. Even in the cases where the sick person does awful things, it's rarely planned out, at least not to the degree that these deaths must have been. Hannibal Lector, while compelling, was not a real person. And Janice, though smart and charming when she wanted to be

He was still whistling slowly, whatever he was trying to achieve with that I couldn’t tell, but it was obviously working and getting the effect he wanted. He had roared at me to sit down. I had seen him shaking with anger that he was trying to control. One moment he was shaking furiously, then the next her was calm and whistling like nothing happened. Psychology taught that such behaviors and people were dangerous. Only killers and psychopaths had them, he was a killer, a psychopath, he was everything that I was afraid of, everything that I was scared that I was going to be, He was the devil himself.

"Do you really think I would give myself the trouble of bringing you here to protect you only to poison you to death?" I shrugged, "Some murderers are selfish like that. They do not care that the victim is going to die anyway. They just want to be the one to end their life and watch the light in their eyes go out. I've read stories where billionaire CEO'S are psychopaths like that. You could be one for all I care." "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't waste good eggs." He responded dryly. I sat at the counter and took a bite from the toast.