In society, murder was the definition of insanity. Only a man who takes the title of psychopath could ever be amused with the content of murder. Imagine the repeating image of murder & torture being replayed over and over in your mind. Having to watch innocent woman being held at the end of a knife because a man named Charles S. Myers believed that prostitutes were the biggest disgrace to humanity, they made him despise his eyesight.
Blade Anastasia Muerto, the girl with eye sockets painted in death and agony, dwelled in his sadistic life style, taking in the blood and the screaming. Their lives not meaning anything to her step-father, Charles. He began by seducing them, his tongue grinning in lies as he looked upon his victims. He'd take them down to the basement, the oblivious woman ignoring the stench of rotten corpse & wounded surfaces. Blade just sat in the corner of the room, her broken bones knowing that this was the last room they'd ever see before being sacrificed to the name of death itself.
"I suppose you know the man with the axe," the white woman eyed her drawing. "redrum" written beside the well detailed figure. The man stood, anger flashing his eyes as he held an axe. A vibrant blue substance dripped from the axe, her blue inked pen not able to capture the colour of the blood. Blade's head hung low, it has been in that position ever since she arrived at the police station five hours ago when they found her body laying unconsciously next to a burning home.
"Is this man your father?" Investagator Luna pointed at the detailed drawing, feeling confusion as she eyed the art peice. "Was he the one who set your home on fire?" Luna took in the environment that they both sat in. The cemented walls of the investigating room reminding Blade of the basement. The basement room that coated in hundreds of deaths.
She refused to speak. Her Father didn't like when she spoke. If a simple word graced her tongue, father punished her with whips slashing her back, or cigarette burns to the shoulder blade if father was feeling extra nice that day.....
"Redrum," Luna Delerentéz's words were silent to Blade's ears. All that mattered to Blade was the image of a killer being drawn onto a piece of white paper.
"Redrum," Blade followed after her. The pencil lines on the axe indicating that blood was slowly dripping its way from the axe to the cement floor. "They didn't stay for long, only a day or two, only one girl stayed for a week, but father realized he wanted a new doll."
Luna bit her red coated lips. 'We're making progress here," she thought. She noticed the word 'Muerto' carved into Muerto's jawline in small phont.
"What do you mean?" Luna got out her notepad. Ready for the red ink to hit the scrawny, white paper.
"His victims."
"Father calls them 'his dolls.'" Blade grinned, finally lifting her head. Her black iris's meeting Luna's blue ones. The deep scar cutting through Blade's left eyebrow like a chainsaw through wood.
"Was your father the one who set the house on fire?"
Silence.
"Blade?"
Silence.
"I've already said to much," her head lowered, making her shoulder length hair fall infront of eyes. She felt as if Charles was watching her from afar, even when he wasn't around, she still followed his rules.
Luna wanted to slap that grin off of Blade's bruised lips. Fustration filling over Luna for the millionth time as Blade shut her out. She needed more information, and she was willing to do anything to get it.
Delerentéz walked out of the room, her maroon heels clicked against the police station's floor. She dropped her hands to the side and went tiptoeing to Officer Bentley's room. She didn't knock, feeling that her and Ben were way beyond knocking terms.
"Mr. Bentley, Ms. Muerto seems to be more difficult then I thought she'd be...." Luna set down the note pad on his desk and raised a dark eyebrow. "Her drawings were completely irrelevant to the house fire...."
"She keeps drawing a man with an axe, Bentley." Luna exclaimed, she popped her bubble gum against her tongue. Her dark red lipstick making her feel bold. "And she keeps writing 'redrum' on the paper. What does that even mean!?"
"I haven't heard that word in years. Sixteen years ago, a woman came to this police station, redrum written on her jawline."
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American Psychopaths BWWM
Mystery / Thriller*DISCONTINUED Vincent Knight was the mask of complete insanity marked in the deepest oceans of anguish. They contoured the word psychopath on his pale, canvas skin as if it belonged there. He had the grin of a mad man and the fists of the insane, pu...
