THE PSYCHOPATH WHO LOVED

1

Today's the day. Today's the day I kill myself. Dramatic right? Or perhaps a little too serious for you. Well, there really isn't a way to sugarcoat it. Some people believe that killing yourself is the easy way out. Some believe it's the most unforgiving sin. I believe, well, nothing other than it's my way out, for the sin part, well, I really don't have an answer for you. Sure, it's a wild fuckin' thing to do, but, hey, it works for me. Well, hopefully, it does. 

Why? That is what you're wondering right? Why would someone want to end their own life? There are a lot of reasons as to why actually. Depression, abusive parents, being bullied, self-hatred, brokenhearted-- you get my point. Google it if you need more reasons, although most of them are bullshit.

To understand my reason for pondering suicide, let's start with an introduction.

Hello, my name is Conner Thompson. I'm a drug addict, Heroin to be precise. I'm also a pain addict. I'm a sucker for any kind of pain, physically or mentally. I'm an orphan, apparently, my parents didn't want me, I can see why. They haven't tried contacting me and I have no interest in finding them. I live with Nancy and Greg, yeah, they adopted me. Nancy is pretty great. She's the one person I'm actually going to miss. Greg is an abusive asshole. I figured that out at age six where I witnessed him beating Nancy, almost dead if I hadn't stepped in. That's how I got this scar on my neck. The fucker smashed an empty beer bottle on me. Can you believe that? Well twelve years down the road and in about 3 hours, I'm going to die. I just want peace. I can't stand all the noise. So hopefully, that will stop when I'm dead. 

Okay, now that thats out of the way, time for me to do all the things I've wanted to do since the beginning.

* * *

My alarm goes off, playing some random happy song. I like to listen to them early so I can go through my day in a feel-good mood. Standing up I make my way to my dresser, whistling the tune of the music.

I open my dresser and move some clothes out of the way. I grab my pistol and clip with only two bullets. I load the gun and put it in the pocket of my ripped jeans. I glance in the mirror and adjust my hair, not doing much I sign in anger. With a smile, I punch and shatter my mirror. 

"Much better!" I laugh out shaking my head.

Bending down to the bottom drawer of my dresser I, again, move some clothes aside only this time, grabbing my syringe. I roll up my sleeve, revealing my scar-covered arm. I take my band and wrap it around my forearm. Uncapping the syringe with my mouth I proceed to inject the drug into my arm. I roll my eyes back and exhale shakily dropping the cap on the floor. I toss the needle on my bed and pull my sleeve back down.

"Today is a good day. I can feel it." I speak softly while putting on my shoes.

Making my way downstairs I'm greeted by the smell of blueberry pancakes. My favorite breakfast meal by far.

"Hey sweetie, breakfasts ready." Nancy greets with a smile placing two pancakes on the counter. "I hope you like them." She adds putting syrup on the side. 

"Greg, come eat." She yells shortly after, Greg joins us at the table. "Good morning Greg," I speak with a toothy grin. Greg glances my way, ignoring my comment. He instead sits down, knowingly in my seat.

I frown. "Now, Greg, that's my seat. I always sit to the left of Nancy. You're on her right." I mean come on, that's just rude.

"Shut the fuck up brat before I make you." Greg spits out. Nancy gasps quickly and apologizes to me, insisting I just sit on her right. But that won't do, I can't sit on her right. It will just feel wrong.

"Greg, didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Or were you always an ungrateful asshole who justifies your actions on your parents never showing you love and affection?" I sigh and shake my head side to side.

"What did you say you fucker?" Greg yells while standing up.

"Jeez like come on, you should know how rude it is to stand up while someones talking to you."

"I'm going to beat the shit out you. You little bitch." 

"Not so fast," I smirk while bringing the gun out and pulling the trigger so fast it probably gave him whiplash. Hah, whiplash, good one Conner.

Nancy screams as Greg's body topples to the floor, blood going everywhere. 

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry Nancy. I'm sure a little bit of handwork and elbow grease will get that carpet spotless. No one will ever know it had the body fluids of your once alive, asshole of a husband I might add, on it."

I strut out of the house the screams and cries of Nancy follow until I close the door shut, whistling the tune of that oh so happy song I heard this morning. 

"Today's going to be a great day."