SOCIOPATH by Ella G (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

Do you know that feeling when you're drowning but you're actually not? Do you even know that moment when you hear voices though they're not there? Do you even understand what I'm saying? Can you even hear the words? I guess not since I don't think you even understand what I'm saying. Anyways, who'd listen to a sociopath that's also a teenager? No one I'm guessing. Thought is what makes us up. And thought is what breaks us. Either this or that. Choose. Pick one side. One side can kill you. And one side can save you. But honestly, try not to choose at all. Try to cheat death, if you can. Save yourself. If you even know how to. I'm a fourteen year old sociopath. It's like I have no feelings when I do something evil. Autismic, maybe. But I do know what to do in public once I get to have freedom. Stay quiet, ignored. Think your own plans. They don't even let me into school, those bastards. They're afraid I might kill every single one of my classmates back there. They have every reason to believe that, since I've already killed my bird and buried it in a little hole under the koi pond in my backyard. But my mother already found out, screamed at me and sent me to Hell. The Lunatic Asylum. I'm just lucky enough to be Intermediately Insane. Only one more insanity level, and I'll be in a straitjacket all the time. I have a psychiatrist on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays, and a therapist on the other days. Today's Thursday, so I have my psychiatrist who tries to pick my brain with stupid questions. I just stare at the ceiling until he gets frustrated and calls the nurses to send me back. But, he figured out how to pick my brain with questions even when I do nothing, that bastard. He makes me answer or else he'll call the nurses to send me to The Room. The Room is a Hell, the third Hell, that has electroshock therapy, nuns that make you say why you're there, and send you to your own room with a straitjacket at all times. I've gotten used to The Room, and I almost get sent there every day because of him. "Ana, answer or else you'll never get out of here. Do you really want to stay here for the rest of your life? Don't you want to go home?" "Home is a Hell for me." I answered. "But do you want to stay here?" I looked at him. His eyes were looking directly at mine, and I answered him honestly. "Yes." "Then answer the questions." As much as I hated the questions, I did want to get out of here. "Do you feel like if you drowned or...killed another..."being" will you feel their pain?" "No." "Why not?" "They have no feelings, those bastards. The thing is, Mr. Brown, the thing I'm giving them is freedom. I take them out of their misery. I let them be free forever," He jotted down notes. "You better not be quoting exactly what I'm saying, or else I won't answer any other question you have." He stopped moving his pen, and put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "Can I at least write one sentence from you?" He looked at me, placing his left leg over his right one, and clasping his hands. I licked my lips, and answered. "No." He sighed, rubbing his bridge. "Ana, you have to cooperate," he started. "Or else you'll stay here forever." That pulled my string. I've had enough. If I could only reach the pole and bang it on his head. But then I remembered about the nuns and orderlies tying me down. "I'd love to kill you right now. The only fucking thing you do pick adolescent minds and talk shit about them. I don't give a fuck if you send me to the fucking Room. I've had enough of shit. THE ONLY FUCKING THING YOU DO IS ASK FUCKING QUESTIONS THAT ARE WORTH NOTHING!" I screamed at him. But, my face was still had it's pale complexion and my ears still felt normal. He jotted down notes. "You are a bastard." I told him. "You need serious help, Ana. It's kind of rare for a person your age to be a sociopath." he said, shaking his head. "It was only a yellow bird." "Yes, a yellow bird that didn't do anything-" "It kept pecking my fingers, screeching at me, and flapping it's wings every single time I come near." "Ana, that's normal. All birds are like that." "You don't understand." Mr. Brown held my gaze. "Ana, remember your last victim? One that was not an animal?" I chuckled. "Mm, yes. Miranda wanted to die, she asked me." Mr. Brown was mortified, but his face didn't let it show. But, his eyes were surrendering. "Ana, you strangled her then stabbed her 2 times, saying "you're welcome". Then you left her body in room. Ana, she is your cousin." 

I smiled, and Mr. Brown's eyes still surrendered the horror, and he took it that it's better for him to leave. "See you on Sunday, Ana." He quickly got up, dropping his clipboard and pen. I smiled, looking at the ceiling. "I can still get out of here, you bastard." He just shook his head, and walked away. I screamed, knowing no one can hear me in this Hell. I was suddenly mad at myself, Brown, this place then myself again. It wasn't my fault I didn't feel guilty when I killed them. Just relieved. Happy that I did the right thing. And anyways, Miranda wanted me to. Literally. She dragged me into her room and handed me a knife saying, "do it." I strangled her first, so she wouldn't feel pain; well not that much pain. When I heard her mother saying that Miranda was in the hospital, declared alive, and I felt nothing except that I didn't fulfill her wish. Her mother told me that Miranda was suicidal, and she needed a shrink. I wanted to help Miranda, and I told her mother that, but all she said was 'she can get help herself, Ana' but I was actually the one helping her. Soon, my mother found out, and sent me here. Sometimes Miranda visits, saying thank you every time, and out limiting the visit hours. The Asylum told me that I'd be out of here when I make 'progress', and eventually got the idea. After a few days, I finally took the hint the orderlies gave to me when they stated 'making progress'. Now three days have passed, and I give fake information to Mr. Brown and my therapist, Ms. Fredrick. Today was a Friday, so I had Ms. Fredrick, and I told her that I felt guilty now that I've killed my two pets. I even let fake tears spill. But, the orderlies gave me my food, but a few pills were in a cup. I threw the pills into the drain, and drank the juice and ate little of the rice and carrots. They seemed disappointed at my appetite, but relieved that I 'took' the pills. Melinda, my orderly, patted my head as if I were a 5 year old child and spoke in her Southern accent, "good job, honey. Just keep taking the pills. They're good for you!" I just smiled and nodded. When she left, I was praising myself for practicing my fake smile. The next day, the day went the same; smile, answer personal questions, praise yourself for practicing things silently in your mind. I pushed my side-swept bangs to the side, and got up to look outside. The city of New York was beautiful, but full of shit. There were drug dealers around every corner and psychopaths passing your own path. But, I am one of them. After a few hours, a knock came and then Miranda's face covered the square plastic window. She looked at me with sympathy, and her mother waved to me, and smiled. The good thing is that Miranda's mother understood my nature, and knew of Miranda'a depression. The thing is, my mother thinks I am nothing but a rabid animal or murderer that has bloodlust. But, Miranda and her mother don't bullshit me. They visit and check up on me, but my mother doesn't. When Melinda let them in, I hugged them, and I acted sickly sweet. Melinda reported progress into her walkie talkie, and she walked away, smiling in her Southern charm. She left the room, and she checked a few times to make sure I didn't 'fake'. "How are you, honey?" Miranda's mother kissed the top of my head, and smoothed down the little frizz she made by kissing me. Miranda hugged me lightly, and explained that in a few days, (she assumed a week or two) that I'd be out of here. After a while, Miranda and her mother had grins on their faces. Were they joking? I wondered. No, they don't bullshit me. I decided on my second choice, and Miranda's mother sighed happily looking at me. Miranda nudged her arm, and I was thinking madly if they were joking, or telling me something other. "Ana, when you're out of this hell, you'll be living with Miranda and I. You two can go to the same school as you like, but there will be some security guards following you for two days or four, just to make sure you're not faking, and you'll be fine. If you're not, who the hell cares?" I felt a grin, and she hugged me tight. Miranda had this sign of excitement in her eyes as if she planted a bomb underneath a building, waiting for it to happen. But, her expression showed excitement of me coming to live with them. After a while, we were having a debate if whales ever had legs. Miranda kept laughing at me and her mother, and I looked at myself from a sideview. After a while, Melinda came in and told them they had to leave my room for rest.

I was kind of angry at Melinda for telling them to leave, but she was my orderly. She was supposed to tell them to leave or stay. I stared at my ceiling, focusing