Chapter 2: Friends and Family

The knowledge of having a sociopath for a daughter has taken a toll on them. They would not be surprised if someone were to tell them I had committed murder. They would save me but only to save their image, their multi-million-dollar company whose vision went along the lines of unity as a family and therefore unity as an organization, or some similar bullshit.

I was Lucifer's spawn to them. A manifestation of all that is dark and evil in the world. The fact that I was their daughter was a pain to them and even though they did not say it I knew they would never forgive me for existing. This would push them over the edge, not that I cared for their feelings or opinions but I needed their money. That was the only way I could afford this two-bedroom apartment and eat out at great restaurants and order in. I was an expensive secret and rocking the designer cage that I was currently in would do no one any good, especially me. Plus, I hate house chores, cleaning was not something I enjoyed doing. Just like that, all my fantasies evaporated and I felt my heartbeat slow down as I pulled back from the brink of insanity.

She had my leash back on and like the good girl that I was, I knew I was going to lie down and roll over. she had won again she always has. I hang up the call before turning to fucking Mathew.

Mathew had stopped all movement. He looked like he had given up, the coward couldn't even fight for his life. How pathetic! what I had seen in him remained a mystery. He was a master of deceit I'll begrudge him that. He had perfected his façade, so much so that it seemed authentic. He was an expensive fake. The kind of fake that fooled even experts. I had found a flaw, simply because I had set out to find one, I had assumed that he had one. All human beings have a flaw his, however, had been more than a crack on the wall. His had been a big gaping hole that required the entire wall to be demolished.

"You cheated on me!" I exclaimed out loud addressing him for the first time since he woke up. He looked at me his eyes lifeless.

I forced a tremor into my voice "I gave you everything and you cheated on me. No! wait, I cheated with you. You made me a monster to your family and degraded me by fucking me despite having a wife."

I raised my voice towards the end making it seem as if I was getting angrier by the minute. He had to believe that I was hurt. The higher my voice became the more emotional I seemed.

I paced around the room, the way one normally would if they were irritated or experiencing intense emotions that needed to be calmed. At least that was what I saw in the many dramas that I had watched so far. I picked up a knife, the knife that I had prepared for stabbing him. I made my way towards him with a sense of purpose he seemed to catch onto as he began to squirm or maybe it simply the fact that I was holding a knife. I squatted right next to his face bringing the knife an inch away from his neck. It would be so easy to just swipe the knife across his neck. I had sharpened it. Killing him with it would not be that hard. I, however, brought it down to my own wrists. He breathed out a sigh of relief which quickly turned to a gasp of horror as the sharp knife bit into my skin slicing its way into my wrists. As the crimson liquid trickled out I felt the tension leave my body. The pain was good. The pain kept me grounded.

"I gave you everything I could. I loved you, I still love you. More than my own life. How could you betray me like it was nothing? I just wanted to be with you forever. Why can't we be together?" I paused as I dramatically inhaled, my chest heaving with mock tears.

If put my mind to it, I could win an Oscar for my acting. Not because I was a great actor rather because my entire life I faked my way through every human encounter playing make-believe as I forced my face to contort into weird expressions that seemed appropriate. I let the knife clatter to the floor as I hid my face behind my hands. I stealthily maneuvered to touch my eyes balls with my dry fingers forcing tears out of my eyes. I faced him again this time with tears in my eyes. I played his trick. Took his hand into mine slowly caressed them while looking straight into his eyes.

"I love you. I am sorry about all this but the idea that I could lose you forever sent me over the edge. I don't think I can live without you. I am nothing without you" and just like that, it was hook line, and sinker. I watched as life slowly returned into his eyes, watched as his ego once again inflated broadening his shoulders and straightening his eyebrows. It did not matter what I said after that or before that. The fact that I had admitted to being nothing without him brought him back to life in a way CPR and oxygen could not. I let my hands fall to the floor and my body followed.

I cast my face towards the floor obstructing his view with the pillow that his head lay on as I did my tear-inducing trick again. I began sobbing, loud heart and wrenching sobs, that I hopped made me seem pitiful. His ego had to be fully soothed if I had any chance of walking out of this. My fake crying carried on for what felt like forever. I finally lifted my head again when I was sure my face was drenched with tears.

"If you want to report me then go right ahead. I can't kill you but I can't live my life without you. So you go ahead and finish me. Do what I am too cowardly to do and with that, I grabbed the knife off the floor and cut the ropes binding his hands and feet. The first thing he did as soon as he was free was lunge for my throat. He squeezed as hard as he could and I let him fighting every urge to knock him off. I could take him.

He was still weak and disoriented from the drugs and being tied up, I choose not to. I felt myself get dizzy, felt the pinpricks all over my face as I slowly started to lose consciousness. My eyes lids slowly drifted downwards as the black spots in my vision began to broaden and just as I was on the verge of plunging into the darkness he let go and my instinct took over as I gasped, coughing and inhaling precious air that was needed by my brain.

As he left my house I knew I was safe. I saw it in the way he turned towards me one last time as I lay heaving and gasping for breath. There was pity in those eyes. He thought he broke me. Laughable! I was never whole, to begin with. There was nothing in me for him to break but I couldn't tell him that. Guilt would stop him from coming after me the pain that he was feeling because of the blisters on his feet that had caused him to leave limping would remind him of me. All in all, it was not a bad outcome, pain and regret are the emotions he would forever associate with me. Even when the blisters dry up and the scars fade. He will still feel that phantom pain every time he thinks about me and that brings me a measure of comfort. He will chalk it up as an encounter with a hot, crazy girl.

In his eyes, those labels will help him compartmentalize. Yes, she was absolutely mad, but she was crazy hot. As if they balanced each other out. I will never understand how men reason. Funny just how much one can get away with when you have a pretty face. I guess I should thank my parents for this face and this body. Being a sociopath has its challenges but at the very least I am fucking gorgeous. Now that fucking Mathew is gone, I need a new distraction. Good men are so hard to come by these days and I get bored without someone to play human with. I guess I have to go to work now, another relationship so soon will not end well. I can almost see Loice's disapproving face as she lists down the million and one reasons why I should not date so soon.

When I say I am gorgeous, it's no lie. I am five foot eight. I am not skinny but slim and plump in all the right places. Big lips, bushy well-shaped eyebrows, wide doe-eyes, glassy smooth caramel skin that cost a fortune to maintain, all features that came together nicely, and all contributing factors to my beauty. Ever since I was young I was told I was beautiful not just my parents. Strangers would come up to me marveling at my unusually long hair or my unusual hazel eyes, gifts from my grandmother. She had been a Latino woman who had fallen in love with the black doctor who had saved her life.

A beautiful monster, that's what Loice calls me. She says that is what makes me ultimately more dangerous. The fact that people are often mesmerized by dazzling exterior they forget the monster that lurks within. She sometimes fondly refers to me as the devil's daughter. If she were capable of feeling anything I think I would be her favorite. Then again her lack of emotion or rather her total disregard of them is what makes her the most qualified candidate to take care of those that are deemed monstrous by others because she is one of us. She is selfish just like her patients and chooses this path simply because it was the easiest way to earn money without having to put up with other people's emotional bullshit. Pulling us away from the edge is how she pulls herself back. We are real-life simulations. Avatars depicting the different ways her own life could go wrong. I think she lets us glimpse the edge just because she can. We are twisted pawns playing her twisted game.

When she first dropped her diagnosis, my parents were devastated. Of course, she had used a fancier name back then; antisocial personality disorder. It could be managed, of course, she had said. With proper guidance, I could live a normal life free from violent impulses. At first, they were confused, did I try to drown my sister because I was awkward around other people? That was when she dropped the name sociopath and just like that the emotional walls of my family went up with a loud collective gasp. This time she had not offered any positive reinforcement. She had simply watched as their world crumbled and I swear I saw her smile. She had looked like a huntress then, with her prey in hand. I immediately knew she was different. I did not play my terror games as I had with my previous therapists that had left them warning their receptionists not to let us in ever again. She was a god-sent, at least for my parents she was, I tended to have a lot of violent impulses and she had managed to pull me back each time.

During our first session, she told me I was a sociopath and that meant I had a conscience even though it liked to play dead. She also looked me right in the eye and told me I was evil. The fact that I choose to do the things that I did despite knowing it was wrong meant, I choose to be bad. She did not bullshit me or try to tell me it was the fault of genetics. She simply blamed me for everything and I absolutely hated her for it. The day will come when she will let me go over the edge, I look forward to the day with an equal mixture of dread and excitement. What would it feel like to put my life on the line? I wonder. I know for certain, when I do go off the rails she will the first one I'll pay a visit.

Thanks to my parents I got a job starting on Monday. I had gone shopping choosing, top of the line, expensive and designer clothing. I love expensive clothes, I enjoyed dressing up. First impressions are important and I always want to leave a lasting impression, being forgettable is one of the many things I abhor. I enjoy high-end fashion something about adorning my body with clothes that cost more than the average person's salary makes me feel powerful. The knowledge that my shoes could easily pay someone's rent boosted my ego in a way nothing else could. What can I say?

I am just as shallow and materialistic. Given who my parents were silk dress shirts and high-end designer suits are what's expected of me. I hate to disappoint.They wouldn't mind the enormous credit card bill. They would pay and thank god it wasn't a purchase of acid or any murderous weapon. To them, I was a ticking time bomb that could go off at any time. After my diagnosis, they had set to work amassing wealth using every way they could just to ensure that when the day that I went off the rails they would have countermeasures in place. My mom was the sole owner of a very successful real estate company that had several branches all over the country and my dad was a re-known architect whose name adorned most of the city's skyscrapers.

Their business had a worldwide reach and in that way, they were more successful than most of their counterparts Their efforts weren't just for me though, they loved the rest of my siblings. They worshiped the ground that Rebecca and Richard walked on.

My siblings were the exact opposites of who I was. whereas I was darkness incarnate, they were sunshine and rainbows. I could not stand them. Despite the drowning thing Rebecca loved me, always seeking my approval and attention. Richard was no different. They thought the world of me and were always preening in front of me. They knew I was different, that I was more than a little messed up. That is how my parents had put it to them. Leave it to children to do the exact opposite of what their parents want. They wanted my life. To be left alone and given everything they wanted. I was more than okay with my lifestyle but even I have to admit that I got lonely and bored sometimes. They were used to love and attention. They would not last a day in my shoes. I tried to show them as much, by my lack of interest in anything that involved their lives but they had thick skins and despite my best efforts they still choose to stick to me. Although they don't show it I think my parents care for me despite their bests efforts not to. I know I scare them too, that is why they keep me happy. They have never said no to me and I take full advantage of that.

They are my parents, any defect I have is wholly their fault and they should pay for it. That only fair.

My job was a job by title. All I had to do was show up and keep myself occupied until it was time to go home. Loice had recommended to my parents that human interaction would be beneficial for me in the long run. She never specified just how much interaction I needed and when I mentioned dating she did not verbally disagree which I took as a go-ahead. I had dated more people I could remember, not that I wanted to remember their names anyways.

They were just a way of familiarizing myself with human intimacy, also I didn't stick out when I was with my friends. Yes, I had friends. I had not set out to make them, but just like everyone close to me, they had liked me and decided that no matter what I did they would stick around.

We first met in high school and despite my closed-off and cold personality they had stuck to me like glue. We're like opposite poles of a magnet, whereas I was icy cold and on the verge of murdering all living things, they were burning hot full of life, and always ready to love.

The girls had taken my constant rejection of their company as part of my introverted personality and had taken it upon themselves to befriend me. I guess it was one of those magnetic instances where unlike poles attract. The problem with such attachments is that they are hard to untangle and that is how I ended up with three best friends who kept me on my toes. My parents and Loice approved of them and I had been forcefully encouraged to maintain them. They tell me their secrets and I keep them but not because I care, rather it's the opposite. Talking to somebody else about some other person requires effort on my part and a level of nosiness that I do not possess.

The girls say I am loyal but it's only because I am not interested enough to betray them. Going against them will not benefit me in any way and they help me look normal and for that, they at the very least deserve to live in peace.

They had all gotten jobs now. Ruth was an intern at one of her father's IT companies she had told me several times which one it was I just didn't pay attention. Her family was from Malaysia but she was born in Kenya. Her father had relocated to Kenya to start a company that had immediately taken off and had not slowed down becoming one of the most recognized IT companies in Kenya. They had several branches all over the continent and he had insisted that Ruth starts as an intern so that she could learn as much as she could about the company starting from the very bottom. Ruth was stunning, there was no better word for it. Her long straight hair coupled with her porcelain white skin labeled her as exotic and she was never short of suitors.

Monica had started her own clothing design company that her politician mother helped her set up. Monica had been the first to approach me. Her small eyes and thin sharp nose screamed Asian even though there was no Asian relative in her family tree. She had dark chocolate skin that contrasted with her features and yet somehow enhanced them giving her model good looks. She was a very attractive woman and she knew it and felt no need to be modest. Her mother had held several government positions and was now a cabinet secretary and her father owned a chain of retail stores that were based in the united states. She always had a thing for fashion and her family was rich enough to allow her to pursue her dreams and so she did.

Susan was a managing director at her father's multi-million shipping company. She was of mixed heritage. Her white dad had had unprecedented success in shipping fresh agricultural goods from Africa to Europe. After establishing his own company and growing it up to the point where he had twenty cargo planes that were always booked all year long he had decided to broaden his horizons and delve into the sugar m business where he met the managing director of a newly established sugar factory they hit it off and the rest was history. Her warm beige skin coupled with her long curly hair and her green eyes made her an absolute eyes candy. She is also the smartest out of all of us.