Novel & Cerita Sociopath: A Memoir Reviews

he leaned forward, “Theft, vanda-” “I don’t need you to tell me what I -” “Finally,” Shapiro leaned forward, “A confession.” I scoffed, “I’m not an idiot.” I ignored them as I began to skim through the file. “Stop wasting our time James,” Ridley pulled away the file from me. “Then do you fucking jobs and get Nick Matthews. He is the murderer here not me.” They laughed again and I stared at them annoyed. Their thick heads were not convinced that a billionaire could be capable of such a crime.

I said and sat down on my bed. She came inside my room and closed the door slowly. "You know, there are people who don't feel emotions at all. They don't feel happy, or sad, or angry, guilt, they don't feel anything." I explained to her. "And I'm one of those people, kid. I can't feel emotions." I continued. "So, the rumors are true. You're just like your sociopath mom, who is in jail right now. Well, why would I be surprised? You're a daughter of a nutcase." She uttered with a very unfamiliar tone.

"My, my. I can't believe David was actually the one who gave him that money. Aaron wasn't engaged in bribery in this video. He was actually returning the money." "But why did David give Aaron money? Also, in the memory playback, Aaron appeared to be aware that an accident was going to happen with the construction work. "Why didn't he put a stop to the work immediately? He's not that innocent, if you ask me." "David is definitely scum of the earth, but Aaron might not be a good person either. Didn't the witness say that Aaron is someone of bad character in the first place? Perhaps he simply put on an act to have his memory extracted during the trial."

"Like they always say, you can never judge a book by its cover. Look at his first love. Even now, she's acting all innocent." Both Zachary and Gigi were sporting unpleasant expressions thanks to the scathing remarks that were thrown their way. Zachary was so furious that his hands were shaking. The way he looked at Gigi now was the complete opposite of the gentleness he previously displayed. "That was my mother, Gigi! You killed my mother!"

“This stupid girl is really making us watch this crap? Disgusting. My car was ruined because of her piss.” The voice sounded distant. It wasn’t from the memory. Oh. I understood then. It was Steve in the real world, the one watching my memory, still disgusted by me. But I couldn’t wake up. All I could do was listen to his contempt.

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.

“I’ve written your story from the moment I saw your photograph to this very second. You thought you were fighting for freedom, but you were following my script perfectly. Every choice you made, every person you trusted, every moment you thought you were clever, was planned.” Her eyes widened as she read the document on the screen. "The Gilded Cage: How I Created the Perfect Victim," I said. "My memoir. I'm going to publish it next year, and it will naturally be a bestseller. I'll donate all proceeds to women's shelters. Delicious irony, don't you think?" "You're insane," Frieda whispered. “I’m an artist, and you’re my greatest work.” I sipped my champagne again. “You’ll live in comfort in my

"Tied up loose ends. Both of them were liabilities by the end." "You murdered your own partners. Felt nothing?" "I felt relief. They'd served their purpose. Time to clean house." Becca's expression was flat, empty. "I don't feel things the way normal people do. Empathy, guilt, remorse those are weaknesses. I eliminated them years ago." "You're a sociopath," Hayes said flatly. "I'm pragmatic. There's a difference." Becca looked directly at Marissa. "Though I suppose to you, it amounts to the same thing. A monster who destroyed your life for revenge over something you didn't even do."

“When he lived in the United States, he was briefly in foster care, but they could never find a family that would keep him because he was extremely aggressive and violent. The kids called him ‘Aggresso,’ which was eventually shortened to Gresso.” Yrah started to shake her head but stopped. She was staring into the cold, dead eyes of the man on the screen in front of her. A man who looked nothing like her Gresso. Maybe there was some mistake… No, this Gresso had no emotion on his face at all, just utter blankness. A void. A sociopath. No conscience. A metal hand reached into Yrah’s chest, crushed her heart, and put it back in. That’s how she felt as she read the long list of Gresso’s convicti

My world was on fire. My body, rising from the shadows of my grave, felt torn. My heart pumped no blood, My lungs breathed no air. I was still, like a thief in the night. I stumbled out of the hole in the ground and looked at my surroundings. Only darkness, no one in sight. As I stood there waiting for this nightmare to end Waiting for this nightmare to make sense, memories started to flood my mind. A man with beautiful blue eyes and hair as dark as his soul.