Psycho Redemption

Chapter 1

I can't run anymore; I am tired of keeping this farce up, and truth be told, it's too tiring. I am tired of trying to 'fit in' with my so-called 'friends' who are nothing but incompetent fools who do nothing other than to show others their... pitiful existence.

These so-called 'friends' are insects who scurry around on their little legs and do not positively contribute to the world. They think they have done a great job by getting a reservation at 'Dorsia', which is very overrated as the food is very bland and with this they charge an exorbitant sum of money for a piece of 'over-cooked' steak.

I thought I was about to be surrounded by the police, and then I would be arrested and put on trial for the murder of the people whose faces I don't even remember.

The stench of blood of the people I have killed and the impending doom about to occur has left me unhinged, unable to maintain calm and composure. My heart is racing like the frantic tempo of a deranged symphony; each beat intensifying the crescendo of panic building within me.

Now, this lament feels pointless, with the pulsating streaks of red and blue lights intensifying every second, starkly illuminating the drab, antiseptic walls of the nearby structure, signifying the proximity of the police to my current position.

I grappled with the impending shattering of my carefully crafted image of a prosperous banker with an enchanting fiancée. The looming prospect of being branded a murderer and an outcast was overwhelming.

Attempting to regain composure, I whispered, 'You're Patrick Bateman!' A desperate effort to rein in my spiralling thoughts, to steady my unravelling self. 'Maintain control. Show them your true self. Prove you're superior to those soulless creatures aimlessly navigating this inhumane and cynical world.' Yet, even a whispered pep talk couldn't tether me, nor could it sharpen my focus."

I urged myself to calm down, relax, and calmly think about the situation, "assess it properly", I said. While trying to calm me down, the officers approached me after getting out of their car. 'Suspicion' was written all over their faces. I understood they knew what I had done, and now they had come to arrest me. Each step they took towards me made me feel like my end was near; I was doomed, and at this point, everything started spiralling out of my hand.

"Raise your hands above your head where I can see them!" barked the police officer, his voice authoritative and commanding as he closed in on me. My instincts screamed at me to resist, to fight back after all I had schemed and battled through. My hand inched towards the holster, fingers finding the familiar grip of the gun. My thoughts raced, a whirlwind of adrenaline and calculation. Should I make this last stand, clinging to the hope of escape, or submit to the inevitable fate closing in on me? Time seemed to slow, every heartbeat a drumroll to a decision that would shape my destiny.

The officer was getting more impatient and shouted at the top of his lungs, "If you do not raise your hands, I'll have to shoot you ......." The words sounded like a distant echo, but I was sure there was a hint of fury in his shout.

I did not understand what was going on around me.

Everything was blurry, and I failed to calm down. My mind was racing, and I was losing my mind, and this time ... it was ... it was the madness in my mind that urged me to kill the officer, pull his innards out, smash his brain and in the end, I wanted to take his decapitated head as my trophy.
At that point, I understood that it was a battle with myself, my inner self whom I had hidden from the eyes of society. I could not let the madness sweep me away from reality 'cause if it did, I would not be a Human anymore, not that I was ever a 'Human'. "I can't let it take me and surely not let 'them' take me".

At that moment, out of sheer madness, I cried out at the top of my lungs, "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!". I could not take it anymore. The constant lying, the urge to kill, the urge to give into my madness - I can't take it anymore.

In that fragile moment, when the weight of the madness bore down upon me, and it was certain that there was no return, a light shone upon me, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos.

I saw for the first time how heavy my sins were. It was a burden which no amount of money, influence or power could get rid of. The blood on my hands had dried but left an indelible mark on my conscience that time could never erase. These stains were a testament to my monstrous deeds and would never disappear.

The darkness whispered, "It's too late for redemption", tempting me to fall into the abyss of madness, or I guess I had already fallen into it.

In the end, I thought, If I had fallen into the abyss and was too late for redemption, then so be it.

The choice had been made.

I turned around and, within a split-second, aimed at the police officer holding me at gunpoint. I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the air. The other officers there ducked for cover, but the one who held me at gunpoint was a tad bit slow in reacting. He fell to the ground while clutching his throat; presumably, the bullet had grazed it just enough to leave him out of combat, but with enough blood loss, it was a ticking 'time - bomb' for the officer.

His piercing cry for help alerted the other officers that one of them had indeed been injured, and they started shooting back in self-defence and spraying me with bullets from all directions. It seemed like the lethal hailstorm was seeking retribution for their fallen comrade.

I felt countless bullets pierce my flesh and lodge themselves within my body. I started to fade and was losing blood pretty fast.

My consciousness was fading. I did not have the strength to pull the trigger again and fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Everything around me had gone silent, from the officer's incessant to the constant bickering inside my mind. An eerie sense of calm washed over me.

"So this is where my path has led me to. Huh! "I chuckled.

*Cough! Cough!*

At this moment, when I was on the brink of passing over to the land of the dead, regret washed over me as I yearned for a second chance at life so that I could undo the wrongs I had done in the past and the throes of my agony, my parched lips quivered, forming a short and desperate prayer which was uttered like the anguished whispers of a broken fool.

"If there is a force beyond, if there is mercy in the heavens, "I whispered, "grant me this second chance, this opportunity to mend my shattered soul. I will surely bear the weight of my sins and strive to atone for the sake of my sins."

As my pulse slowed and the last embers of my life flickered, I stared into the black sky and felt how insignificant and lonely my existence had been. Yet this 'lowly being' had ruptured the flow of various people who might've been significant in other people's lives. I felt my body feeling cold, and I was numb, and above all, I could not see anymore, which indicated that I had indeed 'died' and was living off the dying embers of my life as a chicken does after its head has been cut - off. The darkness of the night enveloped me, and I heard a voice resonating through the whole universe as if it were reading out my judgment - "Here lies Patrick Bateman, the author of his downfall, swallowed by the abyss he crafted."The consequences of my monstrous choices confronted me in the heart of nothingness. A hollow truth echoed had reaped what I had sown.   I faced eternal silence in that moment, forever lost after my demise.