The Day My But Went Psycho Novels & Stories

I wandered through unfamiliar cities alone— shopping, sitting in quiet cafés, enjoying slow afternoons with no one demanding anything from me. And when the day was done—we always went home together.

Same little bell above the door. Elliot and I used to come here after long Saturday prep days, back when he was still trying to build his reputation and I was still proud of how tired he looked because I thought exhaustion meant devotion. He would order black coffee. I would order cappuccino. We would sit by the window, share one pastry, and talk about the life we were sure we were earning. I stood outside for a moment. There was no ache in my chest, no sudden urge to turn away. Only a quiet recognition, like seeing a photograph from a life that no longer belonged to me.

Now feeling wide awake, he slipped out of bed silently and tip-toed out of the room. He wasn’t hungry, actually he was feeling quite nauseous. He went to the fridge and began drinking an exorbitant amount of pepto-bismol. This didn’t seem to help, as the next thing he did was filled the kitchen sink with his expelled stomach contents. Now feeling wide awake and completely drained, all he wanted to do was think of ways out of this problem.

A planetarium that had not changed since our college years, where fake stars moved slowly across the ceiling and made the world feel less cruel than it was. For the first time in days, no one watched my pulse. No one told me to behave. No one asked me to apologize to Sophia. Luca stayed beside me the whole time, close enough to catch me if I fell, but never close enough to make me feel trapped. Near midnight, we returned to the lake. I sat on the hood of his car and looked at the dark water. The medication I had hidden from the facility was still in my pocket, wrapped in a folded tissue.

The memory burning. “I wish you'd just died that day when you were ten. I wish they never revived you.” And then there was what Daniela had said when she agreed to go out with him. "Adrian, you passed my test. Now I believe you're really over that deaf girl. You and me. A date." Every single sentence felt like a needle piercing straight through his chest, and the pain was bone-deep. Adrian's vision went dark, and his mind suddenly jumped to that day at the mall.

The bitterness and resentment that used to gnaw at me had gone still, like dead water that no longer rippled. Soon, the subway arrived. "It's fine. Don't bother," I said. There wasn't even a week left anyway. Those were my last words before I stepped through the subway doors. Lucian reached out to grab me, but he was too late. Through the glass as the train pulled away, I thought I saw panic flicker in his eyes. Maybe it was just my reflection. Or maybe I was imagining it.

The latest chat messages were his desperate, humiliating attempts to hold me back. As I stared at the undeniable proof, my blood shot to my head and then drained away. My hands and feet went ice cold. "I…" I parted my lips, but my throat felt stuffed with cotton soaked in glue. Not a single word would come out. Before my brain could catch up, my body reacted. "I need to go to the bathroom!" I shouted, unsure if I was yelling at him or trying to give myself courage.

He stands up, his gaze no longer sad but dark, hot as the devil could make hell! -"I want to bury myself in you, and fuck you senseless. It was a shitty day, that I want to forget," he mutters sadly, but the desire still present in his gaze, lascivious. If fucking yourself senseless will do you any good, I completely agree. After a day of no news, unlimited worry, and an unusual piece of news, that's all we need.

He drawled before rubbing himself against me. We both groaned, the sound biting out of me. If I didn't have him inside me as soon as possible, I would snap, go insane, deranged. The first mental patient victim of sexual frustration. So I did what I've never done before, I submitted wholly to man. I fought to find my words, my vocabulary, my ability to speak and I looked him straight in the eyes. “Y-yours," I choked out. "My p ussy is yours.”

My ears twitched as I heard their hushed conversation. 'Brucie, you thief,' she whispered, giggling. You ate half of it so fast?' 'What's mine is yours, Psycho,' 'Let's share my pain, break your legs, so we can wallow together.' 'You are crazy, break my legs for what, you? I rather go donate all my organs to a mad man than you.' 'Blah blah, you are a psycho too, let's psycho together.' 'I'll pass,' 'Break your leg or I'll tell him you ate my donuts,'