Sociopath: A Memoir Reviews Novels & Stories

“Yeah, with my grandfather's shotgun.” “Damn girl. Who was the unlucky bloke?” I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. I was a liar when it came to other things, but when it comes to things related to murders, I wasn't a full blown psychopath. I am a high functioning sociopath. Opening my eyes, I saw North’s eyes hovering over my face. “It happened recently at a party in block 24. Promise me you won't call the cops on me.”

“Remember? We talked about your anxiety… your depression. The dark thoughts you’ve been having.” Dark thoughts? Sophia’s stomach twisted. She’d never said any of that. Then she remembered the folder—the fake psychological profile, the story he’d made up. He was setting up her “instability” for when her death went public. “I don’t remember talking about that,” she said carefully. “Of course you don’t, sweetheart. Memory issues, confusion… Dr. Morrison specializes in cases like yours.” “Cases like mine?” “Women under extreme stress. Women who might… hurt themselves without help.”

I killed my mother and her boyfriend with no remorse and even today I feel nothing. After months of testing, sociopath was the diagnosis. Today they call it antisocial personality disorder. What a crock of shit. The original diagnosis is what attracted Victor. He needed a killer and he found one. I remember checking his bedroom door one night a few months after they brought me into their lives. It was unlocked. How he and Cindy slept with me, the child killer, down the hall is a mystery. The fact is, they never gave me a reason to kill them. Victor knew what I was and provided people for me to kill a year after he brought me into his home. It feeds a need inside me and he knew it.

“But Peter is a potential criminal; he can't just be out there without professional support. Which makes me worry about you. Are you really okay? People like Peter don't feel remorse about anything and can end up hurting even those close to them. You really must stay away from him, or you yourself will be in danger.” I hung up the call on her face, putting the device back on the payphone. I was scared and bewildered; there was too much information for just one moment. Not only that, but I mean, of course I had noticed that Peter's behavior was not normal; his attitudes towards social issues were really marginal, but I thought it was all due to a tantrum or because he was just a troubled teen

A sin-for-hire manipulator who had stolen a family’s patriarch and their future. Davidson sat perfectly still at his table. He did not look at Victor's triumphant expression. He did not look at the grim, satisfied faces of the religious leaders. He looked down at his own hands, resting on the cold wood. Melissa's words were, indeed, sharper than knives. They were scalpels, expertly dissecting his most sacred memories and leaving them bleeding and exposed for the world to gawk at.

I read the author's name and book title. Alina. He must be reading it before his turn comes. "We do shit Sanchi. We all do. Nobody is born saint." He gripped the book tight. "People who say they are good, do more shit than any of us. I never said I am a good person. I had done bad things in my life. Things I am not proud of. I've been into guilt and regret." He stopped for a second and stared at the wooden door. I listened to him carefully. I never saw this side of Kabir. Dark and . . . broken.

TITLE Tainted Memories AUTHOR Honesty577 . This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination. . COPYRIGHT All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the author except for use of quotations in a book review. If you want this book to be placed on your platform please see contact information on the author page. . DEDICATION This book is dedicated to my many loyal readers, my creator and my ancestors.

"I am my genius father. You are so slender, so elegant. I am so lucky to have a thoughtful father like you. I'm glad you're my father. I'm glad I'm your daughter. I'll kiss you when you come, and it's huge!" He quickly stood up and threw everything on the table to the floor. He still wasn't dead! Again he succumbed to his helplessness! Even when he killed his daughter with his own hands, he had never been this helpless... The fire inside him would not go out no matter what he did. Because he knew that only the last thing called death could put out that fire. Only those who were not helpless would do it. That fire in the helpless would burn until death, and it would burn like hell... Just lik

As the first grey light of a new day began to seep around the blinds, Elena Vasquez stared into the void, knowing with a chilling certainty that her discharge was not a promise of freedom, but simply an intermission. The treatment, she understood, was far from over. She was his patient now, in the most terrible and permanent sense. _____ Adam slammed the diary shut in frustration, a fiery anger burning within him. Okay. Jesus Christ. First off, let’s be fucking clear: what Marcus is doing is monstrous. It’s rape. It’s torture. It’s predation wrapped in a white coat. There’s no “dark romance” here. This is the blueprint of a psychopath who found the perfect hunting ground.

"And what's your connection to Pauline?" Jessica pressed. "Why does she label you her fiancé? Answer me!" Her accusations dripped with grievance and betrayal, as if she were the innocent victim ensnared and wounded. Only a heartless person like her could conveniently forget her own protracted ruse of feigned paralysis. I was disgusted with Jessica's duplicity. The pain and humiliation I had suffered from evaporated, replaced by stark lucidity.