preview

Serial Killers: A Personal Narrative

Decent Essays
Open Document

“So what’s the diagnosis?” I smile when I say this, showing all of my teeth. This is a sign of aggression in most animals, but it seems to put him at ease. “Mr.XXXXXXX, I’m afraid that the reason for your, shall we say, discontent with your current lifestyle stems from severely psychopathic tendencies. You see, it’s not uncommon for…” I blink slowly as he continues on, leaning back into the chair. I can’t seem to sit comfortably on it—the cushion is terrible. You’d think this therapist would spend some of the money I pay him to improve the décor, but no, instead he thinks it’s a better use of his time to lecture me on how I’m a potential serial killer. “certain, highly successful, entirely outwardly normal individuals to secretly harbour these …show more content…

“You think because I hit my sisters a few times when I was a kid and never said sorry for it and lied to my parents when they asked me about it and lied to my friends when they asked me what my dad did and lied to my girlfriend when she wanted to visit my folks but I said they were dead that I’m a—“ Shit. “—I think our time’s up, Jack.” His voice squeaks out as he clasps his pen, clicking the point out one more time slowly. “I think a different therapist would serve you better.” I nod slowly, breathing deep. The pacing’s brought some sweat out—I’ll have to change this shirt—but it’s better than sitting in that chair. “Of course, doc. Send me some recommendations. Thank you for the… diagnosis. It’s very enlightening.” He nods, loosening his grip on the pen. “No problem, good luck.” “Thanks.” I stride towards the door, pausing for a second. “One more thing—about that kid?” He stares at me, eyes blinking steadily. “Yes?” “It was a bicycle, doc. My favorite bicycle. Only bicycle, to be honest. And that fucker took it from me. I didn’t kill him, course, just broke his arm. And his leg. Well, both his legs. Told the neighbors he fell off while riding. Which he did.” He won’t stop looking at me, his face scrunched up like he’s about to either scream or pass out. “Jack—I really think you—“ I shut the door behind

Get Access
Related
Get Access