Sociopath Test Novels & Stories

By the time he reached the part about Chicago, my blood had begun to run cold. “The Dr said three years ago, Chris killed a boy he was seeing,” Zayne continued, “and that his parents covered it up and sent him to the psychiatric hospital- where the doctor used to work. Dr Smith later realized that Chris needed special attention after some sessions with him, and recommended a higher psychiatric facility, but he stabbed the doctor before they could transfer him. Jer…Chris is a diagnosed sociopath.” My jaw tightened until it hurt. Why am I believing this so easily- at the same time the revelation is shredding my heart into pieces. I should be doubting this, telling Zayne he’s bluffing, but… my

“Do you like killing people?” “Still trying to diagnose me as a psychopath?” I ask with a smirk. He smiles sheepishly, “I’m just trying to understand you. From what little I was told about you; you weren’t painted in a good light. I was told you’re cold, sadistic, and ruthless. I’ve seen you be ruthless; I’ve seen you be cold, but I haven’t seen you once be sadistic. In fact, I’ve seen you be compassionate a few times. You’re not like what I thought you were. For someone with such a terrifying reputation, you’ve shown me nothing but kindness. In your own weird way that is,” he explains.

Tiodor Lison sat at his office desk, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. Yesterday’s events had made one thing clear: his victory was assured. On the monitor, he once again reviewed the report on Libia Musso. It detailed every time the young woman had seen a psychologist. He had needed some money to dig deeper into her file, but it only confirmed what he had already suspected. “Depressive disorders, anxiety, all due to a disorganized attachment in childhood,” he read aloud.

Assumed wrong and imagined we had a common and finally was on eachother's side? Could she have... could she...no. She wouldn't. She wouldn't. She wouldn't have told her lawyer about what I told her. The test. The mental clarity tests I had to be admitted for. Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) Sociopath. "No," I shut my eyes, head low. The voices around me fading away. The Judge saying more stuff that sounded like advice. "No," I breathed silently, "She wouldn't. She wouldn't." She really wouldn't.

She looked me up and down with undisguised disdain and I got the immediate impression that she didn’t think I belonged here and resented the fact that Killian had chosen me over someone from within the pack. “My name is Selene and I will be administering the loyalty test,” she said in a voice that was smooth as silk but carried an underlying edge of hostility, “This test is designed to determine whether you can be trusted to keep pack secrets even when faced with threats or incentives to betray us.” She walked in a slow circle around me and I felt like prey being stalked by a predator, and when she spoke again her voice had dropped to something more intimate and dangerous. “The test works by

he heard himself ask. Sienna's expression shifted, surprise flickering across her face. She'd been expecting him to push back harder. He was pushing back harder. But he was also listening, and something about that surprised her. "You'd need to implement a personality assessment in your screening process," she said, and now her voice had lost its edge, become more collaborative. "The NEO-PI is robust, but if you want something more targeted to risk-taking behavior and impulse control—which are going to modulate your neural plasticity measurements significantly—you might want something like the Barratt Impulsivity Scale alongside temperament measures."

His laugh grated on her last nerve and she hoped he choked on it. Oh, and don’t you worry, they had a test for that as well, a normal test. Legit, they tested her fucking IQ with a computer based test and had her sit down with a psychologist. He showed her ink blots and asked for her interpretations. By this point she was exhausted, annoyed, and tempted to mess with him, to lead him to believe she had homicidal tendencies. Which she was feeling a bit homicidal at the time actually. Instead, she plastered a smile and said what well-adjusted people would, no that’s a stream of clear water, not a river of blood flowing from your jugulars which I just sliced open doctor. It seemed Grayson Godwin

I asked impatiently. “His stepfather asked if there was a cure for it, and the psychiatrist told him that there was no cure. After his stepfather heard this he got worried, and he decided to ask his wife about her ex-husband, and our research showed us that the man's real father was a sociopath, his mother left his real father because of abuse, and some other sociopath behavior she observed, and we do not know if the man is alive or dead,” he said from the other end.

“He was flagged in a couple of psychiatric trials as a subject. Years ago. Something about dampened affect response. Detachment disorder. Closest label would be primary psychopathy with elevated mimicry traits.” I frowned. “English, please.” The man chuckled, dry. “He doesn’t feel much, not guilt, not empathy. But he’s learned to fake it. Really well. A social chameleon. The kind who mirrors emotions instead of feeling them. They can pass as normal for years—decades—until one crack shows.” The air in my lungs felt colder. Denser. “Thanks,” I said, and hung up. It didn’t make me feel better. If anything, it confirmed what I already feared.

Six’s view meant he held no value in the human life, and it was disturbing to think there were people out there that thought the same. Not that it surprised me, really. I’d worked for the medical examiner for years and saw firsthand what people were capable of doing to one another. Someone had to be the first sociopath. There wouldn’t be a diagnosis, an entire field of study on the disorder, if it weren’t really a problem.