The Beautiful Art Of A Psychotic Mind

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 - ❝ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 ❞

Blood. There's blood everywhere, so much to the extent where it's covering the white marble titles that furnished the bathroom of the pathetic man I just cut into pieces. Oh well, at least I'm not the one to clean it.

A satisfied grin graced upon my lips, but what do you expect of me? For me to cry? To be shocked or have any sort of remorse? No can't do sweetheart. I enjoy the sight of blood everywhere. The smell of metallic may be a little too much but it's nothing I'm not used to.

It's my hobby to kill, to slice the soft skin of these victims. To slit their necks and hear their last pathetic breath. Enjoying the sight of them brawling, seeing the fear that pierce through their eyes when I take the sharp silver into my hands, pointing it at them. The muffled screams and pleads are as pleasant as it can get. It can be the only thing to bring that one unique smile from me.

Fun, isn't it? Now I stand here, looking at the very well pleasing sight in front of me. Hands, fingers, toes, all ten of them, scattered like broken pieces of glass everywhere. A leg in the bathroom, an eyeball near the door. And many more lingers about.

A masterpiece, I like to call it. The girl in my mind agrees with me too. She likes it when they scream with fear, cry pathetically begging for their useless little lifes. Oh what a pleasure!

Pieces of the man's body, Mr. Fred Wyatt, laid about his apartment's bathroom. Blood is everywhere, his guts too. The police wouldn't find him until a few weeks after he starts to smell or maybe if anyone notices that he's gone. Not a problem at all. I'll just hide the evidence. Burn my clothing and erase my hand and footprints from the apartment. Not a big deal at all.

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕, 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔