*PRESENT DAY*
"Why did you do it?", the man in uniform asked me. I leaned over the metal table we were sat at, looked him dead in the eye and said, "I love it. The feeling I get when I'm doing it. Their screams, their crys, their pleads for me to stop. It just adds to the pleasure of it all. I am never more content than when I feel my blade tear through the flesh of my victims." The officer just glared, clearly mortified, and I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't the laugh you hear after a funny joke, it was the kind you'd hear after a madman slaughters an entire city. It was manical, twisted, psychotic, just like the mind of who it belonged to.
"STOP!", the man exclaimed, as to which the laugh grew louder, sicker. "SHUT UP!", he cried. I threw my head back and cackled with laughter. The man got up, heading for the door. Right before he stepped out the door, I placed my hand on his shoulder, and whispered to him, " You can run, Mike, but you can not hide." I laughed as his whole body went stiff before he took off.
YOU ARE READING
Insane
Horror"I love it. The feeling I get when I do it. Their screams, their crys, their pleads for me to stop. It just adds to the pleasure of it all. I am never more content than when I feel my blade tear through the flesh of my victims."
