The tales of a psychopath
Prologue: How it is done.
“Oh dear, have you ever heard the quote ‘The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet?’” No answer “No? Oh, well it isn’t like I was waiting for a straight answer, giving the fact that you are probably ecstatic by our little…performance here” Still no response “Oh don’t be like that dear. I know you well enough to know that you enjoyed it as well”
It was one of the most enjoyable performances I’ve ever had the pleasure to write.
But it wasn’t that perfect, out of the contrary, I was getting started.
The body of a girl, a teenager naked girl with no more than 18 years old was hanging up in the air, supported by 4 hooks connected from the roof to the lower arms and ankles, blood drip-ping out from the holes of the hooks that I delicately placed, carefully touching the inner bones for each time I had the whim to swing her back and forth.
You may ask how come I know that.
To fill up your curiosity, let’s just say that I playfully jumped onto her back, the limbs finally giving up its resistance to let the hooks penetrate further and further to finally hear the sound of crack due to the broken bones.
Of course she couldn’t scream louder, I mean I placed a sock on her mouth so she wouldn’t have the opportunity to spoil the fun.
She reminded me the pony I had back when I was 12.
The whinnying she performed during the game, the blood dripping off from her limbs, the soft and hairless skin that I was gently caressing.
It was exhilarant.
Now, now, there is no need to misjudge my words. I, for everything that I care, can swear that I always despised the common ritual of sex.
But that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t get turned on.
“Wow dear, I must say you are quite the friend I was looking for this entire time. And, for being such a good play doll, I think it is time to use the special party tools.”
As I slowly jumped off from her back and combing her hair with my hand one more time, I began to search for my bag that I always bring with me in case I decide to have more fun.
“And cut” what?
I was confused, unable to understand what was happening.
The now clear vision of the illuminated room that I was working on gave me the answers.
The hooks, the teenager, the wooden walls. Oh yeah, the movie.
Just when I woke up from my thoughts, the director was approaching to me with a huge smile.
“Good job, Damian! As always you just keep impressing us with your improvisations! The change of scripts, the caressing, the look, even with the jump!” He said, placing his hands onto my shoulders “And you said this was your first time as a movie actor, but this, my friend, this is talent, no. This is art!!” He said, releasing my shoulders to point out the doll.
I still can’t believe that those are actual dolls. Realistic, even too much for my taste.
Shacking my head to completely wake up from my trance, I said: “Thanks, sir. But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your help”
“Don’t be too humble with you, kid. When I first saw you, I knew I was looking to someone different. Not the group of fuck-faces that I used to work for” He stated, changing his gaze to one of the portraits hanging out on the wall, showing the face of Will Smith. Why is that even there if he hates him?
But, to be honest, he was kind of right.
I was someone different from the rest of the actors.
I felt it, I truly felt it. Like I was really murdering someone with my own hands, enjoying every single second of the session.
Am I crazy?
Am I hiding something else in the very inside of me?
I turned my face to look at the expressions of the rest.
They were shocked, paralyzed, even one of them threw up on the floor.
“Did you really mean that….sir?” I hesitantly asked.
“Why of course kid! You should really be proud of yourself. I mean, look at their expressions” He replied, looking at the guy that was cleaning up his mouth for the vomit. “He thought you were a real psychopath. HAH!” His smile disappeared when he turned his gaze at my face.
I was shocked, my eyes wide open due to the disgusting sight.
“Look kid, I know this sounds kind of hard, but when you make this sort of movies, people will start to watch you as a real psycho. I know, I’ve seen it before when I was working with the guy of Saw. Damn that guy was so fucking good. But the point is, no matter how they see you, or how they treat you, what it matters is that you have a talent that nobody is able to understand.
“When I said that you should be proud of yourself, I meant it.” He said with a caring smile, gently placing one his hands on my left shoulder “If you really want to become an actor, and to do this kind of movies, then go ahead. Don’t let anyone change your mind. If this means something to you kid, then let me tell you that I am proud of you” He said, patting my left shoulder tow times.
I just smiled, not a smile that I always give to my friends. This was a real one.
The director, known as Nicolas Price, was a 60 year old, 7 feet tall, grey hair man.
Better known for me as my father.
The only one that I considered my only family. Because you know, my mother left when my father was filming Saw. She said something about being so violent, and…
I really don’t want to talk about it right now, but anyway, maybe I will do it sometime later.
Turning my gaze up to him, I placed my left hand on his right shoulder. “Thanks sir”
“Now, now, there is no need to formalities. After all, I am supposed to be your father.” He replied, patting my left shoulder one more time to finally release it. “But, since you are being so formal, I guess it is fair to me to keep calling you kid.” He smirked.
“So that means that I can call you old man?” I retorted with a mocking expression, putting down my hand. He chuckled.
“Okay everyone” He said, clapping his hands “that’s all for today, I will see every one of you tomorrow at noon. Except you, pussy guy.” He pointed out at the camera guy, the one that threw up. “I want you to clean up your mess. After that, meet me at my office to see what we’ve filmed today.”
Everyone laughed at him, but It didn’t last that long.
And so, the crew began to scramble to the exit, not after restoring the scenario and taking down the doll from the hooks with dramatic disgust, leaving me alone with the embarrassed man trying to get rid of his mess.
But there was something that I couldn’t answer to myself.
Why did anyone would throw up if it was just a doll?
Thoughts were starting to fill up my mind with doubts about it. It was really well made to be such a simple piece of plastic.
The sounds, the skin, even the hair felt so real.
Was it really a doll or a real corpse? ... Nee. My father would have told me that early on. It is just a well-made piece of art like he said before the movie started.
Right?
“What was that Rod?! I thought you were a man but given the circumstances it seems that I was wrong!!” The director snapped furiously to the man sitting down on the chair of the office.
“Wrong? WRONG? SIR THAT WAS A FUCKING REAL CORPSE! HOW WAS I SUPPOSE TO HAN-DLE THAT?! THE OTHERS WERE BARELY ABLE TO RESTRAIN IT BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T HAVE A FULL HD VISION OF THE EVENT!!” Rod Snapped.
“Then why the fuck do I pay you for?! You told me you had experience with this kind of movies!! You said you filmed ‘Cannibal holocaust’ and that was supposed to be a real movie, with real CORPSES!!” The director replied, unable to stand still, pacing into the office impatiently.
“SIR, HE FUCKING MOANTED THE CORPSE LIKE IT WAS A HORSE!! WE ALL SAW HIS EXPRESSION! I DIDN’T THROW UP JUST BECAUSE OF THE WAY HE WAS PLAYING WITH HER, BUT HIS EXPRESSION, HIS HORRIBLE EXPRESSION!!” Rod screamed, standing up from the chair he was sitting down before. “CAN’T YOU SEE YOUR SON IS A COMPLETE MONSTER?!!”
Before Rod could react, the director punched him right in the face with all the might the old man had to give, sending the 45 year old guy to the closed door.
“Now, listen to me asshole, and you better do it well because I am not gonna repeat that once again!!” Nicolas said, rubbing his wrist and sitting down “My son. Is NOT. A monster! And the reason why he did it was for the fact that I didn’t tell him about the corpse!”
If it wasn’t because of the punch, Rod would have given the old man a face of confusion and shock.
“Oh... So I didn’t tell you, huh?” Rod barely nodded “Well, no fucks were given after all.”
“But…sir” Rod said, trying to stand up and realizing about his mistake “Why would you do that to him? He is your son!”
“And that’s why I couldn’t! You saw him. He is so weak when people think about him being different. But he wanted this.” He sighed. “He thought that if he showed up as a psycho, especially in a movie like this, then everyone would treat him the way he deserves to be, a professional.” He said, standing up to help the punched guy.
“That’s why you are here. I knew you’ve worked with real dead bodies before, that you saw a lot of shit. 35 years of experience. Hell, even I have to give you some credit.”
“But sir-”
“Call me Nicolas.”
“-I-I don’t think he was acting, I mean, some of us thought that he enjoyed it, and a lot even to me having, like you said, 25 years of shit.”
He was right, and Nicolas knew it all along, since his ex-wife and me had found him in front of a puddle of blood, in front of his favorite pony, exactly 13 years ago.
I knew he loved his pony so much that he even came up with a name that none of us would ever think. Not even in a million years.
He baptized her with the name of Rarity.
It was his gift for his 12th birthday.
One of the most expensive ponies that I could ever have the money to pay for.
She was a tiny little horse with a characteristic white fur color. Her mane with a featured pur-ple color, carefully combed and bathed with the most expensive shampoos.
I and my wife were so happy to see our son riding his pony, gently combing her mane with his hand.
He always was so good with his pets. There was no day that he forgot about feeding his cat, dog, bird, crocodile, peacock, deer, lion…
You know, rich people being rich.
But that didn’t stop him for feeding every one of them. He always enjoyed our 5 weeks of vacation in one of my favorite barns.
But destiny had something else in mind with him in that summer.
After 1 week of having his new pet, it was 15:32 P.M. when I had the unfortunate disgrace to hear a scream.
It was coming out of the barns.
We ran as fast as we could to the location of the sound. I knew it was my son. Something wrong was happening. I’d never heard him scream like that before.
Since I was faster than my wife, I made it to the barn 1 minute before her.
And it happened, a picture that not even after 13 years I was able to get rid of.
Rarity was laying down in the grass with my son crying at her side.
The poor creature in front of our barn was barely alive, trying her best to breathe, spitting out blood.
I ran as fast as I could to finally see my son with blood almost covering his shirt.
I thought he was hurt, that someone else had attacked him and his pony.
I wish I was right at that moment.
Damian was crying with something on his hands that almost made me threw up.
He was holding up her hearth.
I couldn’t believe it. Why would he do such an atrocious thing? A why was he crying?
It was obvious that the horse was now dead.
The rib cage of the little creature was cut open, with the insides of her showing up in the sur-face of the grass.
M-My son wouldn’t do such thing. Th-this can’t be… real… THERE HAS TO BE SOME EXPLANATION!
Trying to justify my point, I ran closer to him to see if he was ok. Fortunately, he was.
But now, that wasn’t the case I was looking for.
I tried to ask my son what happened.
Instead, he dropped the organ down in the grass, embracing my body into a hug.
I slowly hugged him back, completely forgetting about his bloody shirt.
“Don’t worry, son” I said, holding up my tears for what he had been through. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“Umm, sir?”
“Huh?” Nicolas said, waking up from his own thoughts about the incident. “Oh, sorry, sorry. I was just… thinking about what… you said”
Nicolas was sad, angry, and shocked at the same time.
Those memories, it was too much for him even after 13 years after. He couldn’t remember it without feeling sick of what had happened.
“I guess… I’m leaving sir… if that’s all for today.”
He didn’t reply. And so, Rod made his way out of the office, carefully closing the door, trying not to make any sound.
Rubbing his face with both of his hands, Nicolas took the control and the DVD that were on his desk. Introducing the DVD, and finally managing to calm himself down,
he turned on the TV.
