The Psychopath

There she is again. She’s not wearing yellow again… that’s good. I didn’t like her in the yellow. Orange is her colour. I like her in orange; it really brings out the amber in her eyes from the bed of brown that it sits in. I hear my breath hitch in my throat and realise I’m rubbing my lip again. I stop and thrust my hands into my pockets. But like always, she doesn’t seem to notice my gaze lingering on her. Maybe she likes to be looked at. Maybe she wants to be admired by people like me… why else would she be so, so… glamorous. Her hair bounces perfectly as she walks, and I am mesmerised. I see her every day, but I can’t stop looking. Her beauty is so unique, so true and perfect. I take a breath and close my eyes… oh, she looks stunning. So breathtakingly beautiful… I open my eyes again, aware that they have been closed too long. She was much closer now, and she looked at me. She gave me a smile and my heart pounded in my chest. Her manicured fingers gave me a small wave and I waved back. My hands felt so clumsy after looking at hers; my big chunky fingers compared to her thin, delicate ones.

“Hi”, she said, but I only managed a crooked, awkward smile. As she walked away, the faint smell of her perfume clung to the air and I inhaled deeply. Oh… she is so perfect in every way. I licked my lips and ran a finger over my eyebrow. Tonight is the night. Tonight, I am going to do it… I’m going to talk to her at last.

I hear her wake up in the dark. I can almost feel her eyes darting around in wild fear. I can hear her breathing become heavy and panicked. I don’t want her to be afraid. I don’t like her like this. I instantly flip a switch and a single light beams down on her. Oh… I didn’t have a chance to look at her fully before. The skin on her back is so pale, so beautiful and untouched. I stand up from my seat and walk over, mesmerised by her sudden beauty. I can still hear her panicking breathing, but I’m too engrossed in what I see. I run a finger through the dent in her back, making her flinch at my very touch. My breath hitched in my throat and I wanted to moan with pleasure, but I kept it down. I didn’t want to scare her away.
“Please,” she begged, “Please let me go.” I cocked my head to one side.
Let you go, I ask, why would I let you go? You are part of my collection now.
“Your collection?” she whispers. I nod, and then laugh at my own stupidity; she can’t see me after all. I kept my hand on her back as I walked around to stand in front of her. I felt her tense up, preparing for what might come next. I tutted.
I’m not that kind of man, I reassure her, I’m not interested in sexual pleasure. I smile as I feel her back loosen, but frown when it tenses up again. She is still afraid. Why is she so afraid of me? She smiled at me every time she walked past my desk, but now she is terrified of me. I feel an anger rise inside me to get rid of her and I run my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself. I take a breath and push a button on the table. It gently started to rise so that she was almost standing, with her front still pressed against the cold steel of the slab. She started to struggle, but it was no use. I had had a lot of practise at this. Not too tight, but enough to ensure she couldn’t wriggle free. It was perfect really.

Even though she was standing up now, I was still a head taller. I towered over her, looking down at her fair skin. I cocked my head again, and smiled. She was so perfect.
“What are you going to do with me?” she whispered, a tear escaping. I mopped it up quickly and smiled at her kindly.
I wish to make you a part of my collection, I say calmly, stating a fact. She frowned a little
“What collection?” she asks. I swallow and lick my dry lips, my mind racing about how to answer such a question.
It is unique, certainly, I say, walking towards the tray of toys, one that I am most proud of really. It has taken me many years and it is still growing.
“You haven’t answered my question,” her voice is shaking and I sigh with frustration.
I haven’t finished talking. My collection, I pause, picking up a scalpel and walking back over to her, is a collection of beauty.
“What are you going to do to me?” she couldn’t hold back the tears now. I place my free hand on her back, being careful not to apply too much pressure.
I’m going to transform you. She screamed as I made the first slice.

She was still screaming as I sat in my chair, panting and admiring my work. I wanted to shut her up, to keep her quiet so I could enjoy this new beauty in peace, but thought against it. While she was awake, the wounds would heal. I stared at her again, smiling with pride. I had made her a butterfly. I had given her wings. I had carved a pattern into her that would make her the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I looked down at my hands, and rubbed them together, but the blood made them stick together for a small moment. I smiled. For some reason this amused me.
“Are you happy now you sick bastard?!” she suddenly screamed and I shot up, marched over to her. I grabbed a chunk of her hair and yanked it backwards.
I transformed you my dear, I sneered, trying to get my anger under control. You should be thanking me. I smacked her head into the table, not liking the thought of the bruise that would show up from that. She started crying again, but I didn’t care. I was still hyped up on the thrill of it. I wanted to run my fingers along each mark I had made. I wanted to feel the parts that I had skinned to make it look like that. I took a step back to get another look. She started to struggle again, and her wings started to take life. They started to move and she looked like she was going to take off at any moment. I gasped. I had never seen this before. She was so special, so magical. I was never going to let this on go. This one was never going to be replaced. I would never see beauty like this again.

A few weeks later:
“This is all very expensive. Romantic date?” the woman behind the counter asked. I shrugged.
In a way, I say slyly, making her laugh. She was an older woman, not terribly easy on the eyes but I imagine in her youth she was attractive. I started to pack the items into my bag. It was almost a month since she came into my collection, and I thought I would celebrate. I felt someone bump into me and looked up. I felt my mouth hang open. It couldn’t be. The young woman that knocked into me turned around, her brown hair flowing freely and tumbled around her as she turned. Her green eyes burned into me, burned right through me. And her smell… oh god her smell was so heavenly.
“Excuse me,” she said before sprinting off to another counter. I just stood there, amazed and dazed. It couldn’t be. She was more beautiful than anyone I had encountered. Even more beautiful than… dare I say it? I frowned and sighed. I had to have this new beauty. I had to make her mine. She had to be a part of my collection. And that only meant one thing. I had to make room for her.

She was still in her chair when I arrived home. She turned to look at me and smiled, but it was a horrible smile. Especially after the beauty that I had seen. I glared at her.
Don’t smile at me, I snapped and the smile vanished.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. I started to put the food away and sighed.
Something is always wrong, I mumbled before walking over to her, releasing the brakes on the chair. I started to push her towards the back room and I saw her tense up.
Don’t worry, I assure her, this isn’t going to hurt.
“What are you doing?” I stop the chair and spin her around to look at me, cocking my head.
I’m making room in my collection. I saw her eyes widen and she started to struggle. I rolled my eyes. She never learnt. I started to wheel her into the back room, slamming the brakes on when she was in the middle. As I started to walk away, she fought against her restraints harder.
Stop struggling, I order and she does. I slam the door closed and place my head against it. Maybe I don’t need to do this. Maybe I can have two alive at the same time. I shook my head. It would never work. I punch a button on the side and look at my watch. 30 seconds. The room would be full of gas now. 1 minute. She would be unconscious. I start to tap my foot, impatient. After 5 minutes, I open the door again, smelling the faint smell of the gas. I see her still in the chair, her head rolled back on the top of it, her eyes trying to look at me. I feel nothing as I undo her straps and sling her over my shoulder, taking her towards another door. When I step through it, I smile.
Here they are, I say and I walk in further, flicking on the light. I take a moment to look at them all and feel a sense of pride. I have lost count as to how many I have. I remember though why I killed them all. They all grew too ugly. Everything about them grew ugly to me apart from one aspect. The only part that I had touched. Their wings, to me, were the only thing that were still beautiful.

I put her in her new case and closed the door. It was a new row. I looked up at her wings and smiled. Before I left, I took one last look at them all, all their beautiful wings. As I flicked the light off, ready to start again with a new face, this new beauty I had seen, all I could think about was one thing. All I could think about was how they could now fly away from me with the wings that I gave them.