The Beautiful Art Of A Psychotic Mind

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 - ❝ 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 ❞

"Please, please don't hurt her Belle. I love you baby, Mommy loves you as much as I love Eva." My Mother sobbed, holding out to Eva as I held a tight grip onto her wrist, probably leaving a mark. But who cares? Definitely not me. I stopped in my tracks and looked at her, observing her condition. Seemingly, it was as pleasing as dragging her "precious" daughter on the floor. 

Sweat ran down her temples to her neck, freshly shed tears laid on her cheeks as new ones were made, ready to shed, but she chose to be strong for her instead. Hm, that was quite a wrong choice to make dear Mother. A small amount of blood drew onto the side of her arm where I accidently cut her. 

What? I didn't mean to do it. It was a simple understanding which led to a mistake. That's all. "Please let her go Belle." Mother pleaded but I pay no heed to it. "It's Isabelle Mother, do I need to remind you to be good, again?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I held the gun to my beloved sister's temple, making her freeze in pure horror.

"Oh God," Mother trembled, as her hands covered her mouth, she instantly backed away. Her blood shot eyes widened as she quickly backed away, a satisfied smirk tugged my lips as I continued to stare at her. I wouldn't use the term staring but rather observing, but you'd fail to understand what I meant either way.

Her royal blue dress that reached mid-thigh was torned by the shoulders, dirty and filthy from the broken glasses, foods that was thrown onto the ground and the dust, meaning that she certainly didn't clean the house properly. Who can do something like that? It's just disgusting. By all means, her dirty blonde hair that was pinned in a neat bun, strands now hung from the sides of her face and behind too.

Mascara and her eyeliner ran down at the sides of her face due to the tears that she shed, her soft nude lipstick smudged. Father on the other hand, was tied up to a chair, perfectly and properly. He obeyed so I went easy on him. Always a good Father, he was to me. His hair was ruffled, strands fell onto his face, some covering his eyes as his head was bent, facing downwards.

He's okay, just sleeping. He wore a fitted black jeans with a white shirt that fit him perfectly. Like he was. My dear Father, whom I love very much, always wanted for me to stay, I always knew so. Mouth tapped and hands tied with rope as well as his feet and rest of body, he stayed seated in the woodened chair, sleeping of course. 

"Let me go, you psychopath!" Sneered my little sister, I couldn't help but chuckle at her little reaction towards me. Doesn't she know? I can kill her at the snap of a finger. I have the ability and power to do so. "Oh, don't worry sweetheart, I'll take you somewhere fun." I smiled sweetly, continuing to drag her to dinner table as my helpless Mother sat there watching, helplessly.

I turned towards my Mother, an idea instantly popped into my head. This is fantastic! How did I not think of this before? "Dear Mother, I wouldn't kill her. You will do it." I smirked, handing her the gun as I walked to get the knives from the kitchen's drawers. 

"This will be a lovely dinner night, wouldn't it dear family?"

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚.