[0.1]Contestant 1— Brooklynn M.
File info:
Female
Age: 22| Height: 5′11| Mental disorder(s): Psychopathy
-Dr.Strauser notes that she truly does not care for the safety or wellbeing of anyone, instead only just about keeping herself entertained.
•••
New York, USA
I’ve always known I was a little different, and so did my mother. (Not that it swayed who i was or how i felt about myself in any way.).
Growing up, I lacked the ability to empathize with my peers and it wasn’t long before people began to have questions. Because of my mother’s inability to take criticism on her parenting, she took me to my first psychiatrist at the age of 8.
The psychiatrist warned her that my mental status and behavioral stims were enough to commit me full time and if left unattended I would become a danger to others and society. Which was a complete understatement.
She literally said “fuck you that’s my daughter” to the doctor, handed him a stack of cash to keep quiet and from there-on-out she did whatever she could about teaching me how to at least pretend to be normal.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that my body (when flaunted in the right ways) elicited a strong, visceral reaction from the male population around me. It had occurred to me that wearing certain clothes would gain more of a response than others.
I began thinking about it this way: even though i was not interested in what boys my age wanted with my body or what they wanted to do to me, i had noticed that they could be very easily manipulated with the use of my body.
At that point, I knew that was an advantage I was willing to capitalize on. And boy did I capitalize on it.
Nobody who went to school with me growing up, would ever imagine in their wildest dreams, that little ’ole Brook was a psychopath.
It’s a little funny how many of those idiots I had fooled. The same bitches who thought we were “besties” were the same ones I obsessed over killing in various different ways everytime I saw them.
I knew that if my mother found out, I would be in trouble and probably locked in a cell somewhere, so I stuck to the rule she gave me at 14: only target pedophiles.
I lure sickos, catch them, and cut them to pieces; all by myself.
You see, I have other advantages that most people around me will likely never discover is a deception: exceptional charm, charisma and incredible control over my facial expressions. I also feel no shame or guilt about faking almost every interaction i have with people.
It is part of my carefully crafted “personality”.
My mother spent my whole life “perfecting” me. Molding me into her last successful experiment. She wanted to see just how well she could teach me to mimic social interaction.
She laid a plan out for my life and only gave me one rule: pedophiles are the only people I’m allowed to target.
Last time I strayed from the plan, I got a little carried away, having the time of my life, and things did NOT go to my favor. I had to spend an entire year in a state penitentiary.
Flashes of my time without freedom caused me to roll my eyes.
‘This time will be different.’ I thought to myself as I watched my next victim exit from the back of a bar.
Mother told me all about him.
Trevor Louise. A 36 year old business man with a decent reputation in the finance world. From the outside he seems like the “perfect gentlemen” , as my mother would call it.
His 12 year old niece, Kaitlyne, can tell you though, he is not the “perfect gentleman”.
I’m going to be real, the cause does boost my confidence for the kill, but I only do it ’cause I like the blood spatter and the pretty sounds my victims make when they’re all about to die. There’s nothing innocent or righteous about what i like to do.
My eyes stayed glued to him as i watched him stop and start talking to someone next the dumpster against the brick siding of bar.
My heart starts to pound with adrenaline and I involuntarily leaned forward as my breathing intensified.
‘This is it’ I thought as my fingers flexed— no doubt ready for the familiar feeling of choking a grown man to death— and my eyes stayed trained on Trevor.
A slow smile began to etch its way onto my face. These are literally the moments I live for. The moments where I can actually feel something. And of course the only time i get to have my fun.
I saw the perfect chance to approach Trevor and I opened my car door. As I got out and was about to head over to him, I felt a prick in the side of my neck and I blacked out after blinking up in confusion at my attacker.
A man with a purple mask. That’s all I saw.
