Psycho

Unit 8

hello, sorry for the late upload! so from now on things really start to get interesting and i'm really excited to see your reactions! hopefully you enjoy it as much as i do, oh and thank you for sticking around if you did! <3

Disclaimer: This story contains violence, gore, sexual content and strong language. Subjects covered might trigger some. If you are very sensible or easily offended, please abstain from reading.

After the movie, the three of them went back to Dan and Phil's apartment. They played a few board games before Pj decided it would be time for him to leave. He left the flat around 8:40pm.

Phil was in the living room picking up the pieces from the board game and Dan sat there, staring into space. He was thinking about how he'd proceed to eliminate his next victims, his index slightly stroking his chin in reflection.

"Hey, would you mind helping me?" Phil asked.

"I could... bike...yeah that'd be good..." Dan mumbled.

"What?"

Dan jumped. "Did I just say this out loud?!" he thought, panicking.

"What?" Dan repeated, acting like nothing had happened.

"Where were you back then?" Phil chuckled. "Biking?"

"Oh. I was, uh, thinking of video ideas." Dan lied. "Do you have bike gloves and a helmet?"

"I think, yeah. In one of the boxes I never bothered to open again in the attic."

"Cool..." Dan said. "Thanks."

"What's that video going to be about?"

"I can't let the cat out of the bag." Dan laughed.

Phil laughed in turn. Dan headed out the lounge and Phil exclaimed sarcastically:

"Thanks a lot for helping me, by the way!"

"My pleasure!" Dan exclaimed back.

Dan ran up to the place where the attic entrance was. He pulled the string to descend the stairs. He climbed them up and looked around him. He opened a few boxes and searched for the gloves and helmet.

The exaltation started growing bigger inside of him. He frenetically emptied the boxes to search faster. He wanted to kill, right now. He couldn't wait tomorrow, in two days, or a week. He needed to kill at this very moment.

It was like a smoker's cigarette. If he couldn't have a drag of that killer smoke, he didn't know how much longer he could go on. It was embers burning inside of him, and every thought he dedicated to his next victims, it was like adding gas. It fed the fire, making it brighter and bigger.

He had to be careful. If he wanted to act now, he had to be very thorough. Get every detail right and leave with nothing else but satisfaction.

Dan finally found the bike gloves and the helmet in a box near the wall. He slid his fingers inside the gloves. They fit perfectly. He smirked mischievously.

"Perfect." He whispered to himself, feeling the fire crackling louder.

He took off the gloves and left the attic with the helmet under his arm. Dan hurried to his bedroom and grabbed his backpack. He shoved the helmet in followed by the gloves, zipped the bag and put them on his shoulders.

Dan put his ear against his bedroom door. He listened to the sounds of the house to try and localize Phil. The only thing he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat.