Psycho

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Chapter 15

Blood spurts from the wound, trailing down the man's shirt as the guy cries out.

I stand stunned.

This is...

"Cynthia?" Jasen frowns, smearing the blood splattered on his face in an attempt to wipe it off. He rips the knife out and more blood flows from it, as he walks towards me.

I watch him, frozen and he stops in front of me.

"Did I lose you?" He strokes my cheek.

I wrap my fingers around the handle of the blade in his hand, drawing it from his grip. He watches me, backing away as I move past him toward the man in the chair.

I bend down and run the knife down his jaw, brushing on the small hairs on his chin.

He whimpers something and tears run down his cheeks.

"What was that?" I whisper against his ear.

He whimpers some more.

"I said, what was that?" I stab the knife into his thigh, as a shiver dances up my spine. Butterflies fill my stomach and I clench my teeth.

...amazing.

This is it.

Jasen grabs my arm and pulls me back.

"You did you like my surprise?" The glint from before returns.

"You couldn't tell?" He wipes something off my face. Probably blood.

"I knew you would." His fingers linger along my jaw.

The door from above slams and a stomping sound down the stairs interrupt us.

"Jasen, this is too risky." Richie comes from the steps and stands in front of us.

"You were wrong she didn't run off." Jasen and I turn to him.

He thought I would run? This is what I signed up for.

Richie's eyes turn to me.

"Of course she did. Listen, you can't prey on her like this. There is obviously something actually wrong with her mental state." He sighs.

Prey on me? I chuckle.

"And I have no problem with that." Jasen slips and arm around my shoulders and pulls me close into his chest.

"They won't like this." Richie bites at his thumbnail, crossing his arms.

They...?

"They don't tell me what to do." Jasen snarls.

I move Jasen's arm off from around me and move to the side. The two pause their conversation, watching me as I continue on to the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Jasen ask, taking a few steps toward me. I hold a hand up and he stops.

"This is not my business and my feet are starting to hurt from standing there so I'm just going to excuse myself." I flash my teeth at him and turn to head upstairs.

"I need to talk to you, Jasen, stop following her around!" I hear as I shut the door behind me.

They have tons of problems for people who claim to be friends. Maybe that's how it works.

I flex my right-hand remembering the feel of the knife in my palm.

Go back down there and finish the job.

But they're talking.

Red blood pouring down the light blue shirt, staining it and dripping on to the floor around the chair.

My breath shudders.

My knees threaten to buckle beneath me as I make my way to the living room.

What even happened just now?

I fall into the couch behind me and stare into the blood-stained hands in front of me.

You killed them. You wanted to kill more.

I did. I do.

The rush it sends me, giving another pain, is wrong. I know.

My hands shake before me and I make fists, staring at them.

The control of my limbs, veins and muscles and nerves working together to bend a single finger. The harmony of all the pieces disturbed by steel slicing through them, destroying their purpose and use.

It's intoxicating to hold that power.

Even with my hands, I can decide whether or not to let a person live, as they go about their day.

Its kindness humans show when they wave at each other or even watch as a stranger walks by, and not attack them.

Because we can, and I will.

All those days of being pulled and picked apart, like a puppet have long since passed. Its time for me to become the puppeteer.

And Jasen keeps making it easier and easier.

I clasp my hands together and bring them to my chin, laying back in the chair.

How does he do it anyways?

It's definitely against the law to hold someone in your basement and torture them, right?

He really is full of surprises.

I'll just have to find out I guess.

The stomping sound from before echoes throughout the home again and a door slams once again.

"Cynthia!" Richie calls. That fucking traitor.

"Living room." I respond, rolling my eyes.

He appears at the entrance, breathing hard, his eyes meet mine and he approaches.

Here we go.

"You're ruining everything. I told you to stay away from Jasen." He glares down at me as I sigh.

"And I told you I wouldn't." I respond, standing.

"What will it take for you to just listen to me? You don't know what kind of trouble you're starting here." Richie doesn't back down as I step up to him.

"I like trouble." I smirk at him, scoffing.

He groans, taking a deep breath as Jasen rounds the corner.

"Don't listen to him." Jasen says, walking over to me pass Richie. I shake my head as Jasen stops at my side.

"He's just makes me want to fuck around some more." I say, smirking wider at Jasen. He grins back at me.

"This is not some joke. They will kill you. Both of you." Richie tries to explain but Jasen and I already understand, we just don't care that much.

"You live to die." Jasen says, leaning against the couch and wrapping an arm around my waist pulling me to his side. I nod, agreeing with him.

Richie stares at us with a blank expression.

I hope he's given up, he should join us and we can all be cool again. He worries too much.

"Please." He whispers. I frown.

"You don't have to worry for us, we know what were doing." I slide Jasen and I into the cushions as I sit back down and his arm refuses to let me go.

My heart skips a small beat.

Richie says and throws himself back into one of the seats.

"I told you not to get too carried away with this girl, Jasen." He breathes out, putting a hand to his forehead and shaking his head.

Jasen doesn't respond, only tightening his grip on me.

"Enough with all that Richie, I want you guys to tell me everything."

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