DIARY OF A PSYCHOPATH

Dearest reader... you have been warned!

But like all nosy earthly sapiens, a throbbing desire for untold answers clings unto your chest.

To which graphic illustrations I assure, your mind is unable to contend.

But hey! You poked your little inquisitive nose in it.

For what it's worth you get to journey through my life's long contempt, twisted disdain and the most dreaded part...

The pitiful act of emotions

(Shudder) Mine.

So, grab a soft cushion, maybe a little snack. As we unravel the truths of what might as well become our ending misery...

But keep one thing in mind.

"I set the rules! I decide what 'we conclude' as the truth."

Cause this is gonna be a long ride.

I've never been one to subject myself to the futile movement of this world

My daring charisma telling one speech from every glance.

"I'm on top. Always have been. And always will..."

_Your most wanted knight.

A lot of times I thought about what to pen down. What pieces to put together. Maybe leave behind a few truths, compose a twisted story of make believes but here we are. In my endless circle of harsh realities.

I hope this is as normal as I can be.

You'd think having such an exquisite lifestyle would be enough. It isn't. While watching my life unfold. Taking an uncanny turn. Life's rose petals turning a dark Dalia.

Alright enough with the sob story!

(Whispers) Let's get real...

******

The walk to the airport takes a mile longer than I expect. My neck aching from the long minute queue until I get to the front row. It takes a while to settle in after I board my flight. I take my sit beside a stern looking woman. Tightlipped. Reading through her book like it holds the key to her survival. It takes a whole lot more to get me flipped over so I don't seem to care. Rather pleased to get a rare view from the window.

At least I appreciate her silence.

Inspite of it all, leftover pieces of shattered memories try its best to elude my heart. Wiping the smug smile away from my face while I stare out the transparent glass.

Memories from a few years aback sends a soft chill over my body. My clenched fist hiding my unstable harsh breaths. Brewing disdain mixed with a dash of anxiety spurns within. It had been a while since panic attacks came knocking at my door. It doesn't seem much like a surprise as the past week had been a roller-coaster of emotions. Dreading the day which had come. One which I loathed.

No one could truly explain the thin line between grief and self-loathing better than me; I felt it all. At some point. Unable to open up about my struggles till there was nothing left; A never-ending numbness. There wasn't anyone. Except of course old acquaintances pretending to understand the very root of my frustrations.

"I don't need vague explanations to my current diagnosis. What I need is someone who's broken the root of their core. Someone who can grasp the faintest understanding of how I feel. Who gets me!"

Tell that to my fired therapist.

I suppose it's all kisses and bobos for prince charming and fairytale princesses. How ironic if my childhood had turned out that way. I could remember the first rose I picked out at our little garden. Mother's warm embrace shielding me from the harsh realities of this world. I'd watch her smile brushing her hands against my hair while she speaks ever so warmly. "You're my little flower..."

All good things come to an end ... eventually.

Whatever sparkle of love got drained out the moment she fell apart. A complete stranger staring me in the face as tears trickled down my cheeks.

The pilot's speech draws me back to reality. I inhale deeply, adjusting to the loud muttering of other passengers locating their seats. I fight back the burning sensation in my eyes. Prepping my mind for the journey ahead.

*****

Crazy how the world spins in anti-rotating bars around me. Like my cosmos fighting against each other, blocking every hope of relief; Peace.

The drive to "The Reynolds mansion" was one I had abstained from for what seemed like forever. I walked in, fighting the strangely odd feeling like I was never meant to be here. Elegantly hung decorations surrounding the room as I stare around. faintly recalling some old faces from mother's funeral years back. Quiet mumbling echoes around the room as guests stood in clusters, gloomy expressions on one hand, champagne glass on the other.

Not for nothing did they call it; "A solemn remembrance".

The odd sense of feigned grievances nauseated me while I scanned the room. Stopping to assess my rather agile looking father. A rather blissful looking smile smudged all over his face. Exchanging mumbled words with a man beside him.

"He probably couldn't recall even the faintest memory of her" I muttered.

The ceremony goes on for a while longer before guests began to take their leave. I stood by the hallway, watching as our spacious living room gradually emptied out. A heaved sigh of relief escapes my chest while I compose myself. Ahead of the little family bickering at the dinner table tonight.

Mom's room had always been a stone throw from mine. I walk into my old room, amused at how swiftly eight years unravels in a nick of time. Hyper realistic memories of her knocking at my door flashes before me. Her fondest memories while she put me to sleep as a child mixed with the dreadful days of fright and loneliness crawled up beneath my sheets as I grew older.

A sudden knock on the door jilts me from my trance.

"We're having dinner now..." I turn at the sound of a faint voice as if reaching out me. My stunning face void of expressions while I watched my father walk in.

We stood a few feet apart from each other. No one making an effort to clear the strangling air amidst us. The piercing silence engulfing the room curled up my nerves. Upset that he had no words but somewhat a sign of guilt in his eyes. I would even dare say.

Responsible.

Yet, I brushed all of my concerns. Clearing my throat to ease the tension. "It's been a while... Dad." After what seemed like long minutes, he reached out to move closer but was soon interrupted by the maid's beckon for dinnertime.

We ate in subtle calmness to petty conversations flowing across the dining room while I appeared laid back. Completely detached from my present environment. A few exchanged glances from extended families to which I reciprocated a befitting scorn. I take a fast peek at the wall clock, lost in its rhythmic movement of its hands. hoping it swings fast enough so I can catch the next flight back to my cozy apartment.

But I knew one thing.

I hated it here.

The way in which the breeze calms my once weakened heart. The muffled laughter surrounding the room like we were one happy family. Nervous smiles tainting the sweet glare of perfection we all struggled to keep.

I hated how memories never seemed forgotten here. Like a thorn waiting to strike. At least for me. "A few more hours..." I mumbled within myself. Emptying my champagne glass in one gulp.

8:45am

I wake up to a dreadful headache. Struggling to get out bed. Then I remember it's a new day break. It takes less than a second to jump out of bed, arrange and get prepared to leave. "It'll take the whole universe to get me staying another second in this hell walls."

My insides had begun to churn at the aftermath of escaping fumes of memory lane. A deep breath and I grab my keys on the shelf, my luggage on the other and shut the door.

My brisk walk to the living room takes a halt as I am met with glaring faces of my loving family. Telling all sort of sappy emotions but I could read between the deceptiveness unmasked within. (I honestly would have played a better role of feigned surprises).

"I have a flight to catch in 2 hours". My voice sounding rather abruptly follows behind as I head towards the door.

"You should have breakfast..." a rather high-pitched voice mutters to which earned no response. Sweet aunt Catherine trying to act all caring. Desperate for points from father. I couldn't care less. It aint easy being the star of the show. I continue my walk. Shutting the door behind me.

The flight back to Massachusetts was a rather peaceful one. A soothing balm to my pent scorched soul. I spent the entire journey reminiscing within myself. Scattered thoughts fixating on my unstable subconscious. Unable to hold weight in my translucent mind.

Walking into my apartment held a different feeling. An anticipated but dim sense of relaxation. Not strange yet unexpected. Rollercoasters of the past few days must have had an impact in spite of my deliberate efforts to appear unfazed.

*****

The world was never ready for my kind you know. You should start to realize that the world is quite flawed for the most part. Even the earth's not a perfect circle. Its freaking spherical!

Expect for its commentary effects in creating the likes of me. One of the only reasonable realness the world has to offer.

They say a genius is born, not made.

It's okay if you cannot begin to grasp the simple understanding. You will, soon enough.

*****

I stare at the blank canvas paper. Assessing each corner on where to begin. My gaze fixated on the nothingness staring before me. The past week had been a marathon of paintings and drawings; an escape from reality. Purging the darkness within me; turning into the beautiful canvas hung around the apartment.

My hands brush through my loosely tied bun, releasing my curly hair strands over my face. My neck moves in a quick rotation, responding to tiredness spreading across my body. But I was nowhere close to wrapping up. A new muse seemed to be in sight. Waiting to burst out of me.

I roll up my sleeves, stare at the bright reflection of the sun for a moment. Capturing a brief sense of beauty within before proceeding to release the unknown; my perhaps best canvas.

It takes 4 long hours from the lines, symmetry and paintings but they do a perfect job at expressing every bit of emotions. The line where perfection meets anguish; pain but in a sweet melodramatic scenario. My eyes lighten up at the painting before me; A stunning young lady dressed in pale featherlike dress.

Her astonishing eyes enough to drown the whole city in its longing. Grasping unto a sharp knife which inflicts pain within. Yet a rare view of her from the side shows her never ending torment, sadness within her eyes. Tears streaming down her face while her necklace shines a bright golden light.

My smile widens at the satisfaction within. Mesmerized by its beauty. My index finger gently brushes the edge of the painting, stopping to access my engraved trademark at the later end. I take a pause, moving back a little to soak in this artistic beauty.

My hand reaches to the sculpture knife on my desk while I firmly grip its end. My gaze unhinged while I dig into my left palm. Slightly flinching at the blood pouring out of the incision. Making gentle steps toward the painting, I wave my hand towards the painting, sprinkles of blood spattered over the young maiden's dress. Creating a more hyper realistic message I had desired.

My latest muse; "Ateria falls."

****

It takes some minutes to clean up, while I put my now tainted apron aside. I take a quick shower, get dressed in comfy clothes. Then walk towards the living room.

Heaving a sigh of relief while I pour myself a cup of coffee. I barely had the opportunity of enjoying the malty taste melt into my mouth before a half-naked masculine figure walks out of my master bedroom in nothing but tights. I continue sipping off my mug while my eyes silently enjoy the sexy menace before me.

Adrian walks over to my direction, a small grin spread across his face. "What have you been up to?". His hands, press against my hips. To which my eyes roll in scorn. "Since when do we get all personal? Keep talking and I might puke all over". His warm laughter spreads across the room, giving life to its numb existence.

We met at an art gallery a few years back. I could recall the first words we said to each other while staring at the same painting "so unoriginal..."which earned a perplexed glance from us both. Let's conclude we've been somewhat acquaintances ever since.

Adrian sighs, staring into my eyes as if trying to puncture into my soul but I get it. I'm not dumb enough not to realize our little arrangement had started to crumble.

Like others, he had gradually succumbed to the fleeting emotions of 'what ifs' and 'what could be' with us. Although I'd be damned if I don't miss his insatiable offerings. "You completed a painting, didn't you?" he whispers. Caressing my chin softly. "Uhmm." I try respond but my mind is buried deep in thoughts of what he'd do to me.

"We might as well make the last time worth it..." I mumbled within myself. Before he drags me into whatever he's got planned in his head.

My hands brush against the tip of his hardened length, earning a soft groan from his lips. "you're not playing fair miss...". I bit my lower lips. My vision already blurred at my desire standing before me. "When have I ever been fair?".

He spins me over, my chest resting on the counter while he makes his way between my thighs. The slapping sounds of his cork against my graciously lubricated vagina sends me in ecstasy. In splint seconds I am thorn with begging for more while he tells me to scream louder.

Adrian takes a peek at my face but his attention draws closer to the bandage on my palm. He slowly pauses in his movements which gets me slightly irritated. "What happened to your hand?". I ignore his question, placing his hands back on my hips. "Just shut up on fuck me!". To which he gladly continues with a lustful grin on his face while he spanks me harder.

*****

The doorbell rings as I walk into the bookstore. I spend 30 long minutes waiting for my art curator, only to have her ring my phon e. Going on for ages on how sorry she was and why she couldn't make it. My stomach churns in irritation as I read her texts on rescheduling time and location. "they're all the same aren't they." But deep down I knew she was different. With her straight face and peaceful aura. She proved useful; most times. Getting down to business as usual.

I glanced at the book in my hands for a few more seconds before placing it down. "Rich Dad Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki". It wouldn't hurt to get a little more knowledge on real estate. Might as well make my short time here productive. I grab my coat and head towards the door.

A small jar of sweets sat on the front desk while my attention is snatched by a child trying to reach its tip. I walked towards the exit, packed a handful of sweets from the jar. My smug smile meets with the little boy frowning at me while I dip the sweets straight into my pocket and head outside.

You're probably wondering what my name is. Let me spare you the misery...

Its Adeline.

Adeline Reynolds. A pleasure to meet you.

It had been an awfully long year submerged with harsh realities and sickening nostalgia. but I had done a perfect job of drowning my misery with my healthy distractions of art; poetry and paintings.

Let's be clear on something. I'm not a particularly obsessed lover of art. I firmly hold unto my notion that some fashion trends and types of art are awfully hideous. Needless to say, my paintings are a masterpiece. They depict relatable perfection and flaws all together. My popular art pieces and collections speaks for itself. But I like to remain a bit anonymous. A demigod in rare sight. No one gets to have a full tasted of me.

Just a lingering effect of my presence.

My recent escapades had remained the usual cycle. Except for a new quest for property acquisitions and anything that brings me even the slightest pleasure. The idea that a house makes you safe. Wholeness is more of a myth to me. I switch between places for a change of scenery. Capturing a new view of this mediocre universe. And maybe catch a little fun.

Today's house hunting goes a particularly different turn. I had barely finished my breakfast when I receive a text from my broker about a real estate seminar. A simple blurt of how I desire to own a few extra condo's and I'm greeted with a private invite to some fancy mogul's seminar. I suppose his point was for me getting the best picks and a way to get out more often. So bloody good at his job.

I put a little extra effort in my outfit. Elating my mood, I blow myself a kiss through the mirror. Makeup a little neutral, my dark hair resting softly on my lower back. Damn sure my dark boots steal the spotlight at first glance. I grab my keys picking up my purse before shutting the door to my apartment.

The scenery of the seminar sure had an appealing effect to it. I take elegant walks towards the entrance. Greeted by standing attendance who gracefully receive my gold-plated invite.

A few seconds in the elevator and I approach the last floor. Walking into an exclusive hall space. Guests of supposedly notable affluences hung around in clusters. (More like a bee hive if you'd ask me). After a few hand gestures and mental calculations, I figured I'd take the best front row seat. Not for the damn lectures. The room was obviously in desperate need for an elegant touch.

Me.

The seminar goes on for a while longer and I am pressed with flipping through pathetic texts from clingy night stands and exe's. My stomach churns at the long epistles before me. It really never gets old. I wasn't going to allow such flimsy nuisance ruin my already deflated mood. A quick yawn eludes my lips but my attention span is swiftly captured by the eminent presence of godlike statue walking towards the podium.

The way in which his hands move, makes me want to eat the sourest grapes from it. I take a quick pause. Scanning his exteriors with my keen eyes. The tip of my index finger brushing gently the curves of my lower lips.

His opening presentation and credentials blur out of my head as I happen to be much fixated on his beautiful appearance. Obviously not his long hour seminar.

Here I am. Sited before this painstakingly breathtaking image of a man. My vision burrs at the fantasy fuming before them.

"I walk up to him, in the most silhouette walk I could possibly fantom...my pretty wet lips lubricated in thoughts of many ways to worship his chiseled contours. I swear I could watch his heart race twice faster ... the tingling swell of his penis flickering between my soft palms. Urgh! Such pleasure". I exclaimed within myself.

"My little fingers...what they'd do to him..." I hear myself whisper. My stare does an excellent job of eye fucking him to stupor. Taking him near Jupiter in a matter of seconds. I am soon jilted from my fantasy as a waiter approaches me with a note. I stare at him deadpanned. "What?".

Slipping the note away from his hand, I look unfazed. Flipping it open to discover a darned warning inscribed in italic writing.

"Keep staring and I'm gonna fall pregnant at your constant eye fucking."

-Xavier.

A small smirk spreads across my face while I carefully place the note on the table. Stylishly accessing him from my corner eye. His stern stare meets with the soft grin on my lips, sending shivers across my body.

I clear my throat. "Such daring audacity..." I rolled my eyes. Trying hard to dismiss the smile on the corner of my lips. I snap out of my fickle daydream and got up to leave.

"Play time's over. Mama's got better things to focus on." I brush off my uneasiness but was soon to be kicked in the guts by Mr. stranger walking towards my table.

It takes a moment to grasp the concept of a godlike sculpture approaching my direction. For a split second I'd imagined him worshiping at my altar. Knees bent, head deep inside my temple. Offering well accepted sacrifice. But then again, my brain fools me into the idea that I'd have him wrapped around my fingers. "Just like always."

I hadn't taken much steps towards the exit before I halted at the clear words from behind me. '"Don't do that." My brows tug together. My shoulders stiffen at the coldness in his voice. "Do what?".

"Downplay the chemistry you were throwing at me seconds ago and leave like it was nothing." His eyes drop to my lips which was now curled up with a look of disgust. But I found myself unable to put together a sentence. The warmth in my chest reroutes itself toward a different area of my body.

The silence between us echoes around the room for much longer than seconds until I am able to catch my breath. "Pick up a better line Mr. Xavier. You fare worse that your predecessors for someone your caliber." I smirked in triumph.

His grin drops with a clenched jaw to which gains another response from me. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?". I scoffed. Suppressing my now rising feud towards his domineering character.

He propels himself forward. "You'd be surprised..."

I swear the way he looks at me, has me wanting to drop to my knees begging for a taste of his one true salvation.

"Oh, I know your type..." I shoot back at him. My hands tucked inside the another. "Really? And that would be?" he questioned with a mocking surprise spread across his face.

'Fuckers who swim in the illusion of feeling too good for anyone." I cut in a small whisper before he has a chance to defend himself. "Oh, guess what? Your flatter yourself too much. You're not that good.". A look of satisfaction has me filled with pride but we both know my solemn abstinence hangs by a thread these days...

"I hate his guts!" I mumbled as I turned to take my leave as fast as I could. Unable to trust myself around this heated conversation.

I strongly despised how he looked relaxed. Hands in pocket while his silk white shirt exposes his firmly sculptured body. Allowing a rare peak of his inviting chest. I hated his devilish smirk before I turned towards the opposite direction. How he made no move to call out my name. "Heck! He didn't even ask!"

It took a lot of courage to act unbothered but a part of me wanted to demand that he begs for my attention. Which I'd gladly grant after series of continuous pleading. "Who does he think he is?"

I heaved out a sigh. Angered by my sudden attention to detail concerning a man. "Urgh!"

XAVIER'S POV

I hate her guts!

How she so eloquently snatches the breath out of me without a flinch. Her silent groan intensifies the stiff hardness between my legs. If only I could show her just how much closer, she's become to stepping on my dark side. How desperately I try to tame myself from the dreadful thoughts echoing one word around her. To fuck her nonsense till she screams out my name for more.

The way she walks out on me screams a lot of tension at the back of my throat. But I hold it in. It takes a will of strength to hold back the urge to slam her against the wall, marking my fingerprint up her thighs. I take a pause at the sight of a gallery owner waving towards me. And try to shrug the memories of her off my mind.

The chat went on for minutes but all I could fixate my mind on was how many minutes it took to get her dress to the floor. With each moment, I flickered the tip of my wristwatch, interchanging with my thumb gently brushing against my brows. My mind unsettled on listening to this man's gibberish or to run after the lady who's caught my gaze.

Finally, the conversation comes to an end for what seemed like an hour but it'd be too late to catch up with her. I heaved a sigh and headed towards the car garage to get my ride.

*****