The Beautiful Art Of A Psychotic Mind

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 - ❝ 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 ❞

"So, what do you think about it?" Ms. Pierre, our college principal, asks. Her hands on her small waist, a small friendly smile curved on her bold red lips, tainted from the lipstick that she normally wore. "It's cool, but it needs a little work." I spoke honestly, diverting my focus back to the small room.

It wasn't cool at all. The green striped wallpaper is currently peeling, there are small bugs of species here, probably still unknown to Science and plus, I have an annoyingly talkative roommate and he certainly didn't appease it.

Bettany Johnson. A short, curvy brunette with hazel eyes, light freckles that litter on her small, round face and plumb lips that are kissable yet it talks too much. She's short, probably shorter than average girls but got looks to kill; I must give her that. Sun kissed skin is what she possesses, every girl here must be jealous of her.

No, she's not one of those typical mean girls, she's a girl who's heart warms others. But somehow she failed to warm mine, but I like it as it is. "Well, get settled. Bettany will be here soon to help you get comfortable. See you bright and early at school on Monday, Mister." Ms. Pierre dismissed and left down the hall, taking the stairs that led out. Not too soon after, before I could step in, a voice belonging to someone too familiar, too well known acknowledged my presence.

"Hey you!" Bettany called out as I was about to step into the room. A groan escaped my lips but slightly so she couldn't hear. "What?" Harshly, I asked. "Woah, I just wanted to introduce myself, so let's try that again, yeah? I'm Bettany and you are?" She implied and I looked at her then the room, her, the room.

"Ryder." I grumbled, leaving no room for a "conversation". I don't like people and I hate socializing with people. "So, Ryder," She started off, testing my name out on her tongue. "Where are you from?" Asking, she sat on my bed as I unpack my clothing.

Not feeling the need to reply, I continued refolding and packing my clothing into the small sized closet, but then realized that my case with my necessities was in the bag, accessible to the curious beings. "Hey, what's this?" And as so thought, so said and done. "Don't touch my fucking things." I snarled, grabbing the small black case out of her hands. A confused yet scared expression fixed on her face.

Putting her hands up in surrender, she apologized. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." And with that she left, entering the bathroom where a little while after the streaming of water could be heard, alerting me that she was bathing. Good, enough time to plan.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘

Currently, I am repainting my side of the room. I hated how disgusting the peeling paper looked, the moss that had grown onto it, spotted all over. He too hated it, but I don't blame him. So now, it's being replaced with a fresh coat of black paint. But atlas, I'm almost finished, just gotta put back my bed in its place when it's dried.

"Hey roomie, whatcha up to?" Bettany merrily questioned, coming into the room. Interrupting my peace and quiet. "Painting," I mumbled, not wanting to talk but of course, the world was against me. As usual. "Can I help? And bro, you gotta change this color. Jazz it up a bit, will yah? Black is so...boring."

"I like it as it is. Now help me or leave." I dismissed and she looked taken aback but I didn't really care, but nevertheless, she grabbed one of the extra brushes and began helping me finish the wall.

Sweat continuously trickled down the sides of my face, making it irritating to handle, so I set the brush aside, and went to the bathroom. Washing my face a couple of times and then drying it off really helped ease the heat that radiated off my body.

"I hope she doesn't shit it up." I murmured to myself, as I stepped outside. But as I said before, the world is against me. Always. "Oh hey roomie!" She waved but all I can do was look angrily at the paint that dripped onto the floor. Creating a mess that was quite unpleasant to watch.

"You can't do it right, can't you?" I whispered harshly, the feeling of anger and misery gushed through my veins. "What?" She asked, rather confused than anything, titling her head a little to the side. I was pissed and he was angry, he wanted blood. He hated the way it looked, how messy it was. Why, why, why?

Couldn't she do anything right?! He was annoyed with her the first time we saw each other and now made it even worse. I didn't answer her, instead I walked up to her, slickly taking my pocket knife out from my pocket and putting it on her neck.

Her breath hitched as she looked at me, her wide, doe, hazel eyes filled with panic and fear. She looked at me and back at the door. "Not so fast sweetheart, it's locked. So don't think twice that you're getting away." I chuckled deeply, making her whimper in pure horror.

It was music to my ears, her whimpering, pleads of letting her go, the look of terror and panic in her eyes. Yes, that's it. I was all I ever desired to see. To have her under my mercy. "Now, you listen to me and you live. Do you understand?"

"U-Understood." She stuttered, making me smile at how pathetically weak she looked. "You're going to paint this wall, all over again. Yeah?" I questioned and she nodded slightly as I was gripping a handful of her hair, and the knife was still at her neck. "If I see a drop of paint on this floor," I warned, and moved one of my hands to my neck, motioning as if I was slitting my throat.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, refusing to die making me grin crazily. But what do you expect of me? It's fun watching them suffer. Watching their eyes widen, not knowing what move you're gonna make next, but all they know is that they're going to die sooner or later. 

Letting her go with a slight push, I slowly made my way to her bed and sat on it, watching her every little move as she shakingly took the brush up, dipping it in the paint, trying not to let a drop fall, because if one does, then she's in for a surprise. You see how easy that was?

𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒈. 𝑩𝒖𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕.