Psychotic Stories Novels & Stories

Maybe it was really just too much caffeine topped with I was stressing about finals and, bam, I suffer a psychotic episode but it won’t be a reoccurring theme. It might be wrong but I cling to that silver lining of hope. I’m willing to wait and see what happens. If I have no more episodes then this will just be something I laugh about fifty years from now. Plus it’s not like I’m a danger to people. I’m not violent or wanting to hurt myself so I should be good. I don’t want to ruin my life because I had too much coffee one night and there is no mistake if I get branded as psychotic, even if it’s just a passing thing, my life is over.

She answered my questions and suddenly that story she was telling me, started to sound very very familiar. "Her family even decided to get her free from this pain she was in. She did not wake up. So they decided on the option of mercy killing. But the next day when they all reached the hospital, she was awake and fine. She spent a few days at the hospital. Then she was discharged. And after a month, she started babbling about these fantasy things. One of her students told the police that she even started talking about a man with horns. She called him Lucifer." By the time the maid finished Alina's story, I was lost in the oceans of my own thoughts. I could not understand how anything like th

We talked for hours as the night wore on. “You really thought about quitting because of burnout?” I asked, tracing a finger along his chest. “Yeah. Days blurred together. Then you started coming in regularly. Made me look forward to shifts again.” He smiled in the low light. “What about you? Why history?” “I like stories that last,” I said. “People who lived real lives hundreds of years ago. Makes my problems feel small.” We laughed softly. Then the touching started again. This time I climbed on top, riding him slow while we kept talking. He looked up at me like I was something special. His hands roamed my body, squeezing my breasts, guiding my hips.

My hands burn with the need to touch the wolf, to make him suffer the way my own body did that terrible day as I felt them leave their marks on me. "Wait," the voice inside my head begs. "Please don't hurt him." "Who are you?" The voice snaps me out of my mania, cooling that burning sensation as I am forced back into my thinking brain. Just like before there is no response. Did I even hear a voice, or was something else within me, some instinct, telling me to think and watch before acting? Maybe this is the beginning of a psychotic break. With the last doctor, it was images of ladies in blue. For me, it is a strange voice speaking to me in times of stress and ignoring me the rest of the time

Without even hearing his response I already touched the end call. I’m doomed. Do I need to wait or not? I didn’t even hear him. Poppycock! I was standing at Sevi’s front door still knocking and trying to calm him down. I wasn’t trying to open the door myself since the last time I do that, a flying glass greeted my face. It was better not to force him to calm down. That’s the last Psychologist said as a token of advice after she resigns. I had hired many Doctors before but no one can handle him once his PTSD struck.

“Hold up. The deserted royal stronghold? That place is cursed. I’ve seen the old pack reports, people go in and either come out insane, clawing at their own skin, or they don’t come out at all. Bodies show up weeks later with no marks except their eyes melted. One guy’s body cam leaked, five minutes in, he’s laughing like a maniac, then drops dead. Forums are full of stories. No one goes there unless they’re desperate.” Dad’s face hardened. He slammed his hand on the arm of the chair. “Mere rumors. Twisted stories from scared packs trying to scare kids. Caius, you’re building fear in her heart on purpose. Working with Cassian to ruin her, aren’t you? Same old tricks from your father’s pack.”

(Maya) Days fold into each other. I can’t tell one from the next. I can’t control my mood swings. Sometimes I’m sobbing, other times I’m trying to smash the wall open with my bare hands. My brain is all over the place. No one will listen to me. No one believes me. I’m psychotic, they say. I had a mental breakdown. I tried to kill myself and my child. No one visits except Jade. The devil. She asks the nurses for privacy, says it keeps me calmer.

A boy who had once believed silence was safety. “I never thought I’d have to do this,” he began, his voice steady. “But someone has to speak first, and if I don’t, he wins.” He detailed the stalking. The manipulation. The threats. He spoke about Adrien Wolfe by name. And then he said the words that would spark wildfire: “Obsession isn’t love. Power isn’t romance. And pain no matter how well it’s dressed up will never be a love letter.” They posted it to every platform they could reach.

"You can't keep me here." "Can't I?" I raised a brow. "Because according to the paperwork, you had a complete mental breakdown. The stress of your company's collapse triggered a psychotic episode that resulted in you attacking several innocent women on the street." I paused. "Then you tried to kill yourself. You're clearly a danger to yourself and others." The bastard's eyes went wide. "That's not true. I never— I didn't do any of that!"

The Pastor and the Slutty Nuns Kristen ponders her next story as she rides her bike home from school. Writing naughty stories has consumed her life. It's all she thinks about. She constantly masturbates, picturing the perfect story to pen into her corrupted diary never realizing how she warps the world around her. She's hardly in the world any longer. She can't remember the last time she spoke to anyone. She eats leftovers out of the fridge at odd hours. She doesn't speak to her mom, her brother, her sisters, her father, or the two Japanese exchange students who, for some reason, were always naked in her house.