Through the eyes of a Psychopath


She wants to leave? She wants to leave. She can’t leave.

“So I will go back to the UK and find some job I suppose…” She trails off. That means she must be unsure or lacking confidence in her decision.

I look at the red wine in her glass, barely touched. It’s not like her to leave the wine untouched and this frightens me more. Any action that I can’t predict leaves me feeling slightly nervous. I need to change tactic. You’re losing her. I down the wine in one gulp, feeling the acidity trickling down my throat. I notice her judging me. Or is that fear? Oh I do hope it is fear. I refill my glass and her words of encouragement wash over me.

“So” She continues nervously “I will see you in the UK, like we discussed. Like we planned”. Yes three weeks alone time. Who can I fuck in that time, who can I…Stop. Focus on the energy source in front of you. I down the glass of wine again. Again there is fear in her eyes. I love it when her eyes widen in fright or when I feel that nervous energy she gives off when she has no idea what she is doing. She gives of such a delicious vibe when she is frightened, like Bambi caught in the headlights. She becomes something soft and moldable, putti in warm hands. She is so easy it hurts, but sometimes she closes up and puts up these invisible barriers. That’s when I become overwhelmed with anger. She is mine after all.

I top up my glass again and think about her leaving and possibly escaping. Women can’t be trusted. I hate her. I want her and I hate her. I have yet to break her but it is not for lack of trying. I try everyday. The light is a lot less bright in her eyes. I can see by the way she walks that the confidence of being young and careless is becoming less visible. I don’t know whether I want her less now. What else can I emotionally beat from her? Yet she may realise what I am when she leaves me to visit family and friends. The people I hate the most as they are constantly in the background, giving her advice and warnings. Warnings against me of course. I hate them.

My mind is running wild. I don’t know what to do first. The sympathy plea? The crocodile tears? The threats? Scare tactics? Love bombing or drop the crazy bomb? Threaten to kill myself? Threaten her? Oh there are just so many options. Fuck it, I’ll do them all.

“Your going to leave me, I know you will. You say these things but you will get home and meet someone else” Accuse! “There’s someone else…There must be”. I feel the ice prickle my heart and I watch her as she defends herself. I know she is telling the truth but to see her emotions spill onto the restaurant table is a treat. That’s it, tell me how much you love me.

I am suitably drunk right now and I am thinking of who I could be screwing. My girlfriend is a cockblock. I want to leave and practically snap my fingers, making her jump. I want to drink more. I want whisky. I make her walk quickly back to the flat. I do not notice my surroundings only the hatred that keeps building. It’s not a far walk, thank fuck, as my throat is dry from the desire of whisky and the copious amounts of cigarettes I have managed to inhale on the short walk. When we arrive I rush towards the Red Label whisky and drink from the bottle. I look at her and feel nothing. Never have and never will. Her very being irritates me and I hate how much she feels. Her sympathy and compassion for others makes me sick and her femininity makes me gag. But oh she is so easy to destroy.

I do it all that night. I drink and cry. My performance is Oscar worthy and for a second I am confused by my act. I can’t remember if this is the part I should cry or get angry? The whisky is hindering my performance. I decide to evoke sympathy from her first but she just looks blankly at me. She has seen this performance before. Changing tactics, I smash up the DVD player and some plates for added effect. The DVD player came apart quickly but in the process cut my hand. I watch as the blood trickles down the side of my palm. I look at her sitting in bed with the white sheets up to her chest. I walk over and wipe the blood in her face, smirking as she flinches. The reaction is just what I needed and I want more. I walk into the bathroom to get a razor blade and scratch her initial into my cheek. I continue to threaten her with promises to kill myself. I can’t get enough of the attention. I want more, more, more. Alcohol, pain, control, reaction.

I do not remember what she said to me as her facial expressions changed from love to hate, fear to pity, sympathy to disgust. I do not remember as I do not care to remember. She gave me what I wanted which was an audience. Plus her feelings for me are real which put me in a position of power. You see, I feel nothing for this woman who I made fall in love with me with false promises of love and protection. I enjoy watching that sparkle of innocence in her eyes when we first met, diminish as each day ends. I can see she is dying inside, sluggish and slow and it fills me with excitement. If I could suck anymore life out of her I would but she has little to give now. So very little that I should look at something fresher, newer. All in good time.


Weekly Writing Challenge: Moved by Music

My dad and I were discussing accommodation in Thailand. I told him that I was planning to find a retreat and meditate. You would swear by the face that he pulled that I had just told him I was planning to sell myself on the market in exchange for Thai fish cakes. ‘Ohhh NO. Don’t you bloody be doing things like that’.

Note to self: When dad pisses you off, threaten that you will mediate all over the place. That should sufficiently end any disagreement in your favour.

Although my parents can test my patience I must say I am grateful for the escape its given me from my bedsit existence near London. I did have some rip-roaring great nights though….By myself…With my iTunes. Who said that single life was dull?! Hell no! With the right wine and headphones (cant piss off the neighbours that live with you) you can really get your groove on. Firstly, you need to make sure that you have enough space for thunderous jumps, extreme hip thrusting and heart-felt miming (which can involve a lot of hand gestures and frightening facial expressions….Remember that expressing yourself is key). Now there is the choice of where you want to end up. That’s right, you read it correctly, music can take you down memory lane (hell lane, love lane, teenage lane etc.) Decide where you want to go pre-wine bottle….I mean glass! Pre-wine glass. Mentally prepare, sip wine, play tune and I will see you tomorrow…..

As sure as I am – Crowded house: I’m in Beijing. A miserable young girl who decided it would be a fabulous idea to board a plane to Beijing to teach English, with little in the pocket and even less in the mind. I am sat with my two flat mates. A guy from Liverpool and a guy from Texas. “I am as sure as I am. I couldn’t care less what might go wrong”. I am home sick and quite honestly being eaten alive by loneliness. The culture shock that I though I would be immune to has quite rightly given me a solid smack in the face. The three of us are sitting together in the apartment – the harsh winter freezing our undies that hang outside on the balcony, drinking questionable wine and stuffing dumplings down our throat. “Make your decision now, rely on no help from above”.

Cry me a river – Justin Timberlake: I’m in the car with my boyfriend. He pumps up the volume to the painful ‘ear shattering’ setting which makes me wince. “You don’t have to say, what you did, I already know, I found out from him. Now there’s just no chance, for you and me, there’ll never be and don’t it make you sad about it”. His eyes are popping out of his head, staring at me menacingly with the idea that I would ever be unfaithful. I know he is creating this movie worthy scene in his mind, me running off with some random lad. “Why are you directing this at me? I don’t understand why you would sing this to me when I barely leave the house, never mind cheat”. “I know princess…I’m not really singing it at you…I’m just singing!” He gives me the ‘I’m watching you’ look. Nothing like a bit of fear and projection to keep a relationship fresh.

Are you Strong enough to be my man – Sheryl Crow and Dixie Chicks: I am sitting on the double bed at a lodge in Sydney. My attention is on the industrial size cockroaches that are scuttling up and down the walls. I have the song on repeat and I am wondering where he is. My face is drawn and my skirt is hanging off my hip bones. I believe my boyfriend is telling me lies. Big, fat, whopping porkers. I choke back the tears and hope that I am wrong “Lie to me. I promise I’ll believe”.

Fireflies – Owl city: I’m walking along Coogee Bay, Sydney. I have my head phones on, strutting to the beat and feeling the Australian sun breathe life into my sallow skin. I’m heading to my see my boyfriend, who is staying with a fellow work colleague. I walk in and the place is filthy. Takeaway boxes and empty beer bottles line the tables and the counter tops. He is there sprawled out on the cream leather couch, naked. My stomach churns when I look at him and I am hit with a waft of whisky, vodka and beer. He has that certain kind of sweat that accumulates with a hangover. The kind that leaves a thick, pungent odour hanging in the air combined with the smell of stale tobacco. He is smoking and I don’t understand how he can smoke with such a painful hangover. He is angry that I have made a decision to leave him. I want him to put clothes on as it seems inappropriate that he is stretching and sweating all over someone else’s sofa.

Mmm mmm mmm mmm – Crash Test Dummies: I’m in London and my flat mate hates me. She is older than I and works as a Lawyer, although this is questionable as I rarely see her leave for work. She takes time off from work due to stress and proceeds to scrutinise my every move. She turns off the electricity at the mains so we cannot have the light on before 8pm. She shouts when I have my clothes hanging in the window to dry. I am desperately unhappy as I did not plan to be in London and miss Sydney so much it hurts. My boyfriend continues to watch me and follow me. Full of empty promises and lies. I can’t live with him and cannot live without him. He picks me up from the flat and I lie in the back of the car crying over the things that I cannot handle, while he continues to run errands. We continue to torture each other.

Life is too short – Scorpions: I am packing the last of my belongings and moving back to Wales. I lip sync to the music, putting emphasis on my dance moves around the bedsit. I ensure that the curtains are closed so poor unsuspecting neighbours do not get an eye full of my “I am a star” impersonation. I feel no regret and know full well that this is another chapter in my life that is fully closed. I have recovered from a toxic relationship and finally feel ready to embrace the world and whatever challenges that life may throw at me. I am ready to throw caution to the wind. I will no longer wait ‘For the time to stand still or all the worlds and stars from turning around’. Yes Scorpions, life it too short and sometimes you have to run for it before you have a chance to change your mind.