Psychopathic Quotes Novels & Stories

His face twitches in a vicious laugh. "Shut up, you insane psychopath !" "Psychopath ? I see myself more as a complex man. Pampered, selfish, vain and fucking indifferent, yes, but a psychopath, no”. "I see a bad moon arising". I begin. "Really ? Singing ? Now ?"

I decided the best thing to do was play along. “You act like you’re the one writing the story,” I said, conversationally. “I would believe that, except you’re the one covered in blood. Usually, the guy in charge has others do his dirty work.” He grinned at me. “I like the dirty work,” he said, conversationally. “I’m a psychopath. Diagnosed and everything. I could take medication but giving in to the urges is a lot more fun.” “So, you’re in charge,” I said. “The brains and the brawn of the operation.”

he stammered. I chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth. “Insane? No, Richard, that's a word too little to describe me. I’m just very, very psychotic, a maniacal deranged bi.tch. I've gone whacko, and I'm gonna show you just how sick I am. You’ve made a grave mistake, and now, you’ll pay the price. Your end is near, and it will be slow, it will be painful, and it will be at my hands.”

but he doesn't fucking stop talking, yes he was that wicked "And if you keep pissing me off, just remember I know how to hide a dead body" He finishes his fucking sentence, and pats my cheek with his cold hands, and it made my breath shakes, but...but I don't let him win, and I don't freaking want to give him satisfaction, pleasure, and make him smile wider, so I parted my already champ lips, and said the roght thing that popped into my head "Tell me, is being a fucking psychopath something you like, or something you do?" I asked him with a mixture of fear, anger and frustration in my voice, hoping it would make the damn smile disappear, but damnit, he only chuckled out as if to tell me that

He replied "Did you ever tell him. You never told him your feelings for him. You can't blame your cowardice on anyone, there's no way to spin and make yourself look like a victim" Mark retorted. "You are a psychopath, a psychotic criminal" "I never plan to make myself one" "What if you kill me and he loves another person, would you take her too" I asked "What makes you think you are the first" He chuckled "This isn't the first time."

“Good, that's good, because I derive pleasure in pain. You could call me a sadist-masochist.” I'm stunned. “A sadist-masochist?” The word comes out frightfully. Psychopath would be more fitting. That's the right word to describe men like him who derive pleasure in causing harm. Right? Except when I look at him, I don't see a psychopath. An arrogant bastard, maybe. He chuckles, a rich sound that comes from somewhere deep inside him. “You make me sound dangerous like a sociopath.” He pauses, lowering himself to sit on the chair facing me, crossing his legs. “I'm just drawn to pain. Giving it, receiving it.”

Psycho..He's a psycho. A real psycho indeed. I clenched my fist. "You, should be dead." I whispered. "Everyone tells me that." He looked at me, grinning from ear to ear. I pointed the gun in front of me aiming right at his heart. "Now i don't think you should be pointing the gun at me right now." "Why shouldn't I? You're a psychopath. You are a danger to everyone in Mexico. Who knows who your next target is, how many people's lives you'll endanger next and how many victims will die because of your sick brain. " I scowled.

Dante looked up, his voice quieter now but somehow heavier. “They say he’s sadistic. A beast in human skin. They say he’s a psychopath who kills for pleasure and that he’s… not fully right in the head. Some say he’s a cannibal. I used to think they were exaggerating, but now I’m not so sure.” I felt my skin crawl as a cold chill slid down my spine. Dante wasn’t finished. “There’s more,” he added, stepping away from the car.

“It’s like he cleaned the weapon before leaving.” I shake my head. “Or he licked it.” “Hmm.” “Psychopaths have tendencies to taste their victims' blood.” Dakor Romanov’s face comes to mind. That lunatic sucked a man’s blood through his nose. “It does something I refuse to understand to them.”

I redirect my gaze to him and reply, "He's not my weakness. And no, I can't deal with the idea of him getting hurt. He's my friend, and I care about his safety. A psychopathic, selfish, self-centered narcissist like you wouldn't understand what it feels like to care about someone since you obviously only care about yourself." He smiles at the derogatory names I just called him, not a hint of anger in his eyes over the insults. With him, I'm not even sure he'd register those words as insults. He's crazy enough to take them as compliments. Carl nods with a smug smirk. "You're right, I do care about myself more than anything in this world. I'm selfish and self-centered because I'm my number one