101 Psychos

#6 - Playmates

Psycho #6 - Playmates -

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A Tale of Behavioral Addiction:

Refers to the compulsion to repeatedly engage in an action until it causes negative consequences to the person's physical, mental, social, and/or financial well-being. A pathological relationship is often formed between the individual and the action, giving a sense of happiness to the person when partaking in the addictive activity.

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I giggled quietly to myself. Each time I tried to stop, I'd laugh even harder. I couldn't help it. I had a playmate and we were going to play a game. I loved games.

I giggled again as I watched him from across the old wooden table top, still stained with my previous playmates blood. He looked like a Jock, which was why I picked him in the first place. The boy wore a nice leatherman jacket with his team name and number embroidered on the back and front. I didn't have a clue what sport he played but I thought he might like to learn a new game regardless. Not one played with a ball like he was use to, but one played with a blade.

He slumped over in the rickety wooden chair provided, still sleeping from the chloroform I'd used on him earlier. His feet were chained to the concrete basement floor tight enough he couldn't lift his foot, but his hands were unbound. You can't play a game if you can't use your hands after all.

I picked up my favorite knife and laid my hand flat on the dingy, wooden table between us, spreading my fingers wide. Gripping the hilt firmly, I stabbed downward, landing the dangerous point between my pinky and ring finger. I smiled and lifted the blade before plunging it down to the table again. Another perfect miss between the ring and middle finger. Over and over again I repeated the motion, becoming faster and more violent with each thrust. I grinned like a mad man and laughed like a maniac each time I missed my hand. They say practice makes perfect, and I'd practiced this game a lot.

After another hour I became bored with playing by myself. I stabbed the knife into the table and leaned forward. Resting my elbows on the table and head in my hands, I pulled at my short, shaggy, unkept hair in frustration and impatience. It was probably already standing on end, but it didn't matter to me anyways. I couldn't remember the last time I had a shower. I just wanted to play.

How much longer? I wondered. I desperately needed my new friend to wake.

Suddenly there was a moan across the table and I snapped my head up. He was finally coming around. I chuckled uncontrollably, but tried to stifle it. The resulting noise can only be described as maniacal. When the young man looked at me in confusion, I lost control of my excited laughter.

"What the fuck?" he pondered out loud as he looked at me in disgusted awe while wrinkling his nose.

This earned another fit of laughter from me and it took a few minutes to calm myself back down enough to talk.

"Hello friend! Hehe. We're going to play a game. You like games, right?" I inquired cheerfully. 

He stared at me in groggy disbelief before replying, "Who the fuck are you?"

A chuckle escaped my mouth before I answered. "I'm your new friend, and we are going to play a game. Have you ever played Five Finger Fillet?"

I was always a bubbly person, laughing more than not most days. Having a new friend to play with seemed to make me extra giddy. I was just so happy, I felt as though the giggles would cause me to burst like a gore filled bubble if I held them back.

"Five What?" he asked while looking around the room, taking in our gloomy surroundings for the first time.

Laughter erupted from me and filled the decent sized, unfinished basement. The sound bounced off the stained cement walls and created the illusion that I wasn't laughing alone. There was a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling, above the table we sat at. It's light was unreliable; the bulb was loose in the socket, causing it to flicker from time to time. It kept my new friend from seeing the rooms interior clearly.