My Life As a Psychopath

Hello.

My name is Edward McCollin, though i rarely go by that name nowadays.

I no longer have much to do, i've gotten old and my days are numbered, so i thought i'll leave another thing behind.

My life story, as a diary of sorts.

You don't seem very excited. let me be honest with you neither am i, not a fam of sharing.

Well, sit tight because this is gonna be a long one.

Let's get started.

...

I guess, I'll start from all the way back. Even with my photographic memory, I still can't remember clearly. too foggy, but i'll try my best.

My childhood was like a very cliche villain backstory.

Abusive father, a druggy mother.

Let's start with my mother, she was in her early thirties, what little beauty left was covered by her saggy eyes, pale skin and bruises.

You guessed it, I wasn't the only punching bag my father had.

Let's get back to my mother dearest.

She was a substance user, that's the best way i can put it.

From the small time stuff to the hardcore. From alcohol, marijuana and nicotine to some substances that just sound silly, or that was what my five year old brain thought. don't ask me to specify the drugs, i have no interest in such pathetic means so the names never resurfaced.

All she does all day is get into her trances, sitting somewhere in the appartement tweaking the fuck out.

Excuse my language, but i won't be holding back my words while telling my story, and some cuss words are going to be the least of your worry.

Like I was saying. always on something, no job, didn't clean or cook.

I didn't let her do the cooking part myself, don't trust what she might put in there.

A useless whore, was what my father used to call her.

He was all bark and no bite. At least outside, whenever I see him by coincidence or not, either by his boss or his "Friends' ', my dad always had his head down, belittled and made fun of all the time.

I guess he's only tough when facing a 5 year old or a short skinny woman.

I remember he would try to teach me about the need to be tough and being "A man"

While my classmates were impatient to go home and play with their games, or i'm not sure what.

I would take the long way back home.

Not really a fan of being beaten till i go to sleep.

....

And then it happened. not sure when and how, but it just did. I noticed it back then.

A car hit a dog while speeding, sending it flying.

Landing right in front of my school, it's legs and head broken and bent in grotesque ways, blood and guts everywhere.

When all the kids started looking away, screaming or crying.

I found it...

Fascinating.

A lot of thoughts went through my head.

'Why are the other kids acting like that?'

'Is this how fragile living beings are?'

'It's still twitching even when it's in this state. how long would it bear it?'

'What would its limit'

'What would be the difference between a human and an animal?'

'Would humans last this long as well?'

'I want to find out.....'