THE PSYCHOPATH'S PREY PART TWO
CHAPTER ONE CONTD
DANIEL
Andriel's eyes bulged as I leaned in."Your crimes will be your confession."
"Your screams, my absolution."
The screwdriver's tip danced across his skin, tracing patterns of pain.
"Andriel, my friend," I whispered.
"You've killed, maimed, and destroyed."
"Yet, I'll show you true artistry."
"Your suffering will be legendary."With each twist of the screwdriver andriel's agony escalated.
Sweat dripped from his brow. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His pleas turned to animalistic screams.
Music to my ears.
I reveled in his torment.
My excitement grew.
As Andriel's sanity unraveled. "Please...stop..." he begged. "Mercy..."
"Mercy?"I chuckled."Mercy is for the weak Andriel."
"I'm the harbinger of despair." "Andriel, you'll know true hell before you die."
The screwdriver plunged deeper. Andriel's screams reached a fever pitch.
In that moment... I was God. Judge, jury, and executioner.
Andriel's screams faded into whimpering exhaustion claimed him.
But I wasn't finished. "Not yet," I whispered.
"One final masterpiece remained."
I retrieved a small, leather-bound book filled with Polaroids.
Victims past. Their faces twisted in agony.
"Andriel, behold, Your legacy."
The photographs fluttered to the floor as I opened the book to a blank page.
"Andriel Martinez," I wrote
"Serial killer."
"Tortured soul."
"Mine."
A final flourish of the pen the screwdriver gleamed.
Ready for its final act."Andriel," I whispered.
"Your time is up."
The room plunged into darkness.
As I struck. The sound of screams echoed fading into silence.
I seized Andriel's hand fingers splayed.
Vulnerable.
My blade sliced through the pinky finger.
A clean cut as a shriek escaped Andriel's lips.
As I claimed my prize. The finger joined my collection. A gruesome gallery.
Twenty-seven and counting.
Each digit told a story. Of pain. Of terror. Of submission.
I gazed at Andriel's severed finger, Admiring the craftsmanship.
"The perfect addition," I whispered. "To my shrine of suffering."
The finger's tip was carefully preserved in a jar of formaldehyde, Labelled and dated.
Andriel's screams faded into whimpers.
As shock set in, His eyes pleaded for mercy.
But I had none.
"Your pain is my art," I declared.
"Your fear, my fuel."
"your suffering would have reduced if you told me what i wanted to hear"
The darkness consumed Andriel as I meticulously cleaned my tools preparing for the next masterpiece.
The next victim. The next addition to my collection.
I glanced at my watch 4 AM, Time to shed my skin.
The darkness receded as dawn broke.
I cleaned up the mess erasing evidence of last night's masterpiece.
Andriel's screams were silenced forever.
My mask slipped back into place the college nerd Benign valerio.
Unassuming. No one suspected me as the psychotic artist Daniel.
Lurking beneath, I changed into my school attire a disguise of normalcy,a facade of sanity.
My backpack hid the tools of my trade the trophies of my victims carefully buried with the identity of daniel.
As I walked to campus, blended in concealed the monster within. But the thrill lingered, the rush of power, the satisfaction of creating. the satisfaction of destroying my art.
The rush of power. The satisfaction of creating beautiful arts.
Campus life unfolded. Lectures. coffee breaks. smiling faces. Deceptive normalcy.
My thoughts strayed, to the shadows where my art awaited. Next victim. Next masterpiece. The thrill coursed through my veins.
As I scribbled notes In class, fake interest. Real obsession.
My professor droned, about psychology. Irony.
Did he know? About minds like mine?
Twisted.
Tainted.
Tortured.
I exchanged pleasantries with classmates hding my hunger from the world. For the next kill. For the next creation.
My phone buzzed a message from unknown sender "A fan of your work."
My heart skipped a beat. How did they know?
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