The Lunacy of Tyler Lockhart ✔️

Chapter Five - Present

Present

Tyler

I often wondered what my life would have been if I was normal like other people in the world. If anything, it would have been downright boring, not to mention tedious. I wouldn't have possessed this ambitious streak inside me; neither would I be such an interesting person.

You see, when you're diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder, (a polite term for borderline psychopathy), things are relatively easier for you for many reasons. I wasn't scared of situations, people, or the outcomes of my decisions. Throughout the years, I'd done proper research about my disorder; around one percent of the general population was a psychopath. I'd come to learn that if I wanted to live in society and continue to fool others, I had to act normal and keep those demons locked away.

A handful of people in my life knew the real me, the rest—either thought I was insane or charming. My mother, Kiara, had been a constant source of support and if it hadn't been for her guiding, and conditioning me to the man I was today, things probably could have turned out worse.

Victoria was one of the people who knew about me, and who had tried—in vain, to try and repair me.

That's where she'd gone wrong. I wasn't a drug addict or an alcoholic who could get better through therapy and regular visits at the shrink. It was almost like calling out a shark for being murderous and train him to become a dolphin.

You cannot expect a person with my disorder to act out of his nature. A lion will be a hunter and a deer will forever remain a prey, and never the other way round.

A knock at the door disrupted my train thoughts, "Enter."

It was my mother who walked inside the room, carrying a newspaper in her hand. She looked even better than I'd seen her last when she visited London. Her short dark hair tied in a bun. She was wearing a loose satin top over denim, diamonds studs glimmered in her ears and neck. When she saw me sitting behind my father's desk, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Something crossed in her features that I wasn't really sure what to make of, "Mom?"

She recovered quickly and smiled. "You looked like Jasper sitting there in his desk, it just..."

"It scared you." I knew it.

Everyone said I looked exactly like Jasper, my father. Over the years, Mom had been a victim to Dad's mental abuse; he'd tricked, manipulated and made sure she never left his life, often resorting to blackmail. At least, I had a chance to escape the imposing man when I left to study in London, but mom had stayed behind.

She gave me a tight smile. "He looked exactly like you when he was your age. It brings back memories."

Memories that she'd rather erase from her mind.

I stopped scribbling in the file and looked at her. "You have nothing to be scared of because I'm nothing like Dad and I have to thank you for it."

She closed the door of the study behind her. "You used to come here and draw all over his office papers with your crayons." She laughed, "And no matter how many times I forbade you from coming here, you ended up sneaking in. Do you remember?"

I smiled politely at her, "Yes, I remember. I also recall hiding under this very desk while he beat you up. I haven't forgotten, Mom."

She went silent; so much for trying to act like a normal family. That was the problem with us Lockharts, we played pretense very well, almost fooled people into thinking we were a happy, wealthy, privileged family.