Psycho?

Authors Note: I am always humbled when I get invited to one of Randi's events. I tried really hard to come up with something and I just couldn't for the longest time. I almost thought about backing out but then I had this idea and the story flowed. It is different and it is based on my recent classes involving medical diagnosis. It is also a different take on the Love part of "When a Man Loves a Woman". I understand if you don't care for it but it is where the writing led me to. Yes it is short but it tells the story I wanted to tell. Also there is no sex, but that should be evident since it is in the Non Erotic category. Thank you Randi for the invite and I always promise to try to do better next time :) .... Amber Forever!

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I am not a psychopath; I have the medical diagnosis to prove it. The guy whose head I was currently holding underwater would probably disagree, but he was in his fifth year of a four-year business degree, so I don't think his opinion matters. The bubbles are starting to slow down. Gonna let him up for a bit.

The intake of air is always the same when you pull the head out of the iced tub. They always suck in water that is dripping off their heads causing them to cough, which is tough when they have no air in their lungs. It just adds to the panic. The two idiots I had captured were probably going to live through this. After all they only TRIED to rape my sister. Had they accomplished more than a bad scare they would be missing parts of their anatomy by now. I looked over at Aquamans compatriot, he was naked and tied to the chair with a ball gag in his mouth. When it was quiet you could hear the buzzing of the 10-inch vibrator he was sitting on. I am sure there was some anal tearing and without medical attention he could die of sepsis, but I planned on dropping them both off at the hospital after they learned their lesson. After all, I am not a psychopath.

Some would say I am splitting hairs because my actual diagnosis is Borderline Personality Disorder. There are a lot of three-dollar words in my profile, but it basically comes down to the fact that I don't play nice with others. Part of what keeps me from being diagnosed with psychopathy is my ability to connect with those who are bullied. I never tortured animals, in fact the first person I ever REALLY hurt was a 9-year-old who decided to keep kicking a puppy. I was six at the time. At the time, I had my own bruises from being kicked and punched due to leaving the butter knife on the counter the night before, so I felt for the dog. I still remember the taste of blood in my mouth as I spit out a part of the bully's ear. Of course, it could have my blood, after all the kid was 50 pounds heavier than me. Not being a psychopath, I never experimented if blood tastes different from person to person.

Waterboy had caught his breath. Time to take it away. You would think that when someone is trying desperately to get air into their lungs, and they see that they are going to be plunged headfirst into water they would take a deep breath. Not this guy, he wanted to talk.

"Please no more!" he shouted.

This was probably why he was having such a hard time graduating, failure to prioritize. I might even be helping him out in the long run. I shoved his head back down into the water and thought about what led me here.

Her name was Martha, and she was probably the only good person I have ever met. She was the birth daughter of my last set of foster parents. The Carmicheals were okay people I suppose, they were not rich, but they had enough food for us to eat and John never came upstairs to put a pillow over my head and assault me, so I tried to be decent to them. It was tough though; some things would set me off and I know they wondered why they put up with me. I figured it was because they could use the money they got from the state. But Martha was always kind. When I would go off on John and Louise, Martha would come into my room unafraid and let me hold her teddy bear. She didn't understand what was going on in my head but she knew that her bear made her feel better so it would help me feel better. Such are the thoughts of an eight-year-old. As messed up as I was, I could never be mean to her. I know John and Louise were not sad to see me go off to the army when I turned 18, but Martha cried her eyes out.

You often hear about people coming back from the service messed up, but I was messed up when I went in. Somehow, I made it past the first round of evaluations and was doing pretty good in boot camp. I kept my head down and kept to myself. I knew that any relationship I had with anyone was going to cause problems so I just kept my head down and tried to make it so the DI didn't even know I was there. I probably could have made it work except for Fatty Patty. Every unit has a fuck up and Patrick Tillsdale was ours. He was out of shape, whined like a bitch, and lazy to boot. We all wanted him gone so one night some other recruits decided to help him decide to wash out or shape up. The problem was they went too far. They had his pants down around his knees and were dropping their drawers when I attacked. It may have been three on one, but I had surprise and rage on my side.

Turns out the army doesnt like rape. They also don't like it when one person puts three people in the Med tent. I was the only one who was handcuffed after Fatty told them it was all a joke, and nothing was happening. The army wanted it to go away so I got an ELS and they all got kicked back to the beginning. I was despondent since I had no place to go. Then Underwood contacted me.

I still don't know who I work for. I am pretty sure it's in that gray area between big business and secret government, but they gave me a second chance. It was strongly implied it was my last chance. I went through training similar to that in Quantico, except without the white glove service the CIA is known for. By the time it was over I could pick a lock, roofie a mark, steal a car, shoot a pistol and kill someone with my bare hands. Skills useful in polite society. Underwood would give me a dossier and an objective, and I would complete it. Sometimes it took a couple weeks, sometimes it took a couple months. I had no family or friends to worry about, so it was all the same to me. Please don't think that I'm Billy Badass. I have been caught, tortured, and beat up. I have screwed the pooch on an assignment and had to call a clean-up. I am not a dashing James Bond or a kick ass Jason Bourne. That's Hollywood. What I do in real life is boring until it is not boring. Then it is usually messy. But I still get the dossiers and I get a very nice amount of money deposited when I succeed. They also let me keep what I find as long as it is not the mark.

The only tie to anything is Martha. She will hopefully never know that the scholarship she won was funded by a duffle bag full of cash that I liberated from a drug house in San Antonio. I would send her letters making it sound like I was still in the army, which anyone who looked at my records could confirm. She would always write back and ask when I could see her. I showed up for her high school graduation with my arm in a sling. I told her it was a training accident, and I would be fine. It wasn't a total lie since the personal trainer I was hired to hurt got in a lucky grab and ripped some ligaments before I could wrap the resistance bands around his throat. The news covered it as an erotic asphyxiation mishap and an oil tycoon's trophy wife was taught a valuable lesson about fidelity. Like I say, business and government. Back to the matter at hand.

I pulled the asshole's head out of the water and tossed him to the ground. When you are punishing someone, it is good to give them a respite, build a little hope, then continue the punishment. I have never gone toe to toe with a spy or a special forces person, again that is Hollywood. I HAVE made many a person rethink their life decisions and re-evaluate their positions on matters such as theft, rape, pedophilia, adultery, and snitching. I decided to get to the point of my visit to the two losers.

"So, I suppose you are wondering why I brought you here today," I started.

"Please man, no more, my dad will pay big bucks for you to let me go!" the asshat responded.

"Keith, there is where you are making your mistake, you think I care about your daddy. I don't. I don't care about the half-brother you have that he keeps secret. I don't care about the 20-year-old bimbo he is currently fucking around on your mom with. I don't care about the false documentation he filed with the SEC to make his business look solvent. I don't really care about you. What I care about is what you have done to the female coeds you have had over to visit your frat brothers the last 5 years. I read your frat journal. You guys deserve so much more than the loss of your house and the pain I am going to inflict on you," I replied.

"Man, that was all a joke man, we didn't do nothin," he said.

"Keith, again I don't care what excuses you want to make. What you did was assault someone I am personally close to. I am not gonna tell you who it is, because you are not smart enough to leave it alone. You would go after them and then I would be forced to get really unpleasant with you. As it is you are probably going to survive this. I want the lesson to be thoroughly learned, and just killing you would be too easy. Little shits like you need to be taught that just because you were born on third base doesn't mean you hit a triple. Eventually there is someone who doesn't give a fuck and that person is me," I told him.

I heard a crash and stepped away from Keith, keeping him in my peripheral vision while I could look at his compatriot. Mike had tipped over his chair and was struggling against the ground trying to dislodge the vibrator. I went over and pulled it out of his rectum. He almost passed out from the rough handling. The vibe was covered in shit and some blood. I was glad for the gloves I was wearing. I tipped the chair up and tightened the ratchet straps a couple extra clicks. I went to my bag and grabbed a container of parmesan cheese. While Mike was staring at me through the ball gag, I had put on him, I sprinkled the cheese all around his genital area. I could tell he was curious and worried about what happened next. When I went back to my bag and put the cheese away and pulled out a live rat, he started to get the idea. He was screaming through the gag as I slowly walked over to him. I added a strap to the right and left leg of the chair so he couldn't tip it over then dropped the rat in his lap. I turned around to see Keith struggling hard against the ropes I had tied him up with. The muted screams from Mike were having an effect on Keith. Good. Now back to the matter at hand.

"Now Keith," I started, "I am going to beat the shit out of you, I am going to destroy your teeth with this lead pipe, then I am going to break three ribs. After that I am going to beat the shit out of your balls. Lastly, I am going to break every single one of your metatarsals. Those are the bones in the feet since you failed anatomy. So when it hurts to breathe, is tough to eat, and you can barely walk, you are going to remember what happens to serial rapists who mess with the wrong person. Oh, and I made five copies of your frat journal and sent them to various news outlets. Daddy is going to have a very difficult time paying all those corporations to keep quiet. The University will be forced to launch an investigation. The two regents on the board that are taking money under the table from your dad and his cronies are also going to be exposed. You once bragged that you were an alpha dog and could get away with anything. Are you willing to reassess that position now?"

I heard a scream off to the side and glanced over. Apparently, the rat had gotten a little careless with his teeth going after the cheese. Mike was sobbing and it felt pretty good. I left the rat where he was as I proceeded to go to work on Keith. I did everything I said I was going to do to him and eventually the screams faded to whimpers. They picked back up when I started smashing his feet with the lead pipe but quickly faded. When I was done, I grabbed the rat and let him go out the door to live the best rat life he could possibly live.

Since they were both passed out, I hauled them into the back of the white panel van I had acquired for this job. I drove to a block south of the emergency room and got out in an abandoned parking lot. I went over every detail of what I had touched and decided to kill two birds with one stone. I opened the back doors and dumped the miscreants out. I drove about 500 feet and grabbed the two gas cans I had stashed earlier. I opened the windows because I wanted this to burn and not explode. I grabbed the last item out of my bag and loaded the flare into the flare gun. A shot through the window lit the fumes with a WHOOSH and I felt the air push past my face. Within minutes the van was burning merrily. The two idiots had to feel the heat, but they were far enough away that I didn't think they would be burned too badly. A call to 911 from a phone purchased at a gas station, and they should be found shortly. If not, well I did what I could.

I was listening to my streaming music app when Percy Sledge came on. "When a Man Loves a Woman" is his signature song. I thought about the words and realized that the guy was an idiot for letting a woman control him like that. To let someone control them to such an extent can't be healthy. Then I chuckled to myself, who am I to know what a healthy relationship looks like?

Two towns over I pulled into the hospital. I gave my name to the desk and made my way to the ICU. The nurse was walking out as I was walking in.

"Has her condition changed?" I asked as I looked at the form lying in the bed.

There was a sympathetic smile from the nurse, I asked every time I came to see her.

"The swelling on the brain has gone down quite a bit, and that was our main worry. The doctor is going to try waking her up in a couple days, but she will need a lot of help getting back to normal. The good news is that the CAT scan didn't show anything that looked like permanent damage. There is a very good chance that with the swelling down and some rehab she should be good as new. But she will need constant care for the next three months at least." The nurse replied.

I liked this one, she was pear shaped with very thick ass and thighs, but she had a really pretty face and seemed to not take herself too seriously. Under other circumstances I would have tried to charm her out of those scrubs. Right now, I just needed my Martha to get better.

"Thanks, I already submitted my severance paperwork. I plan on moving back and taking care of her as much as she will let me," I replied.

"You're a good brother," she replied, "If you want someone to talk to, my shift ends at 5 and I have been known to enjoy a cup of coffee."

"Let me get your number," I replied.

I learned a long time ago that if a pretty girl flirts with you, you should flirt back. If you don't you seem off and seeming off is a bad thing in my now former line of work. She pointed to a number on the whiteboard and smiled as I took a picture of it with my phone.

"What are you going to do for work?" she asked.

"I plan on opening up a security and surveillance company," I replied. "Stick with what ya know am I right?" I said with a grin.

She gave me a smile and headed out the door.

I pulled my chair around so I could see Martha's face. The doctor said she should be fine. I had a lot of money squirreled away that I could afford pretty much anything she would need. I picked up the book I had been reading to her about rabbits fighting other rabbits. I picked up where I left off and continued the story. Maybe she could hear and maybe she couldn't, but she used to love being read to when she was sick, and this was her favorite book. I finished up two more chapters and turned out the lights. These hospital visiting chairs were very uncomfortable, but I had slept in way worse conditions. I drifted off to the sounds of a night shift at a hospital. Everything would work out. It had too.