Page 2 of The Cute Psycho

"Ubei menya," I utter again, and his eyes widen in shock before his hand tightens on the handle, wrenching the gun away from me.

"Clean yourself," he mutters before leaving the room.

Taking a deep breath, I allow myself to feel disappointment for a moment before I turn back to the doctor's corpse.

Father may not know it, but he just left me with a gift. And I plan to take advantage of it to the fullest.

Hours later, my father's guards show up, and they find me elbows deep in the doctor's chest cavity as I reorganize his organs.

Bummer...

"We can't let him stay here, Dima," my mother whispers to my father, thinking I can't hear them. I turn my head to the side, my gaze fixed on the bird hopping around the windowsill.

I know I'm not wanted in the house, and everyone has made it clear that they don't wish to share a space with me. Not that I blame them, since I've noticed the fear in their eyes as they look at me. They are all afraid I'm going to snap somehow, but even that fear is not enough to make them kill me.

I am a child after all, and even seasoned killers frown upon killing the young. If only they knew what's in my mind... they would certainlynothesitate.

"Are you my brother?" I look down into the curious eyes of a little girl. Her hair is parted in the middle, two pink ribbons holding the strands together. It looks oddly reminiscent of something.

"Hey," she pokes my side, frowning when I don't answer. "You're my brother. I know you are," she says with more confidence, folding her hands across her chest.

I shrug at her, and my gaze returns to the bird. Foreign information starts flooding my brain. I seem to have read somewhere that birds have hollow bones, their structures different to allow for flight. I wonder how they would look on the inside...

My hand shoots out, my fingers wrapping around the slim body of the bird. I'm quick enough that she doesn't have time to spread her wings.

Bringing her toward me, I study the way her eyes close, the membrane serving as her lid inciting my interest. Sharp... I need something sharp.

I'm about to reach for a knife when the little girl's hand covers my own. She looks terrified as she glances between me and the bird.

"What... don't..." she stammers, her lower lip quivering.

I tilt my head to look at her, my eyes narrowing slightly.

She tries to pry my fingers off the bird, her efforts futile. When it finally dawns on her that she won't be able to do it, tears gather at the corners of her eyes.

I still, the sight shocking and foreign. It awakens something uncomfortable in my chest. For the first time, as I weigh the options, I findmyself leaning toward making her stop crying, even if it means passing up on satisfying my curiosity.

"Katya!" my mother exclaims in outrage, tugging her away from me. My eyes follow the trail of her tears, already entranced by them. My fingers become unwittingly loose until the bird flies away, unharmed.

"Never do this again, you hear me? Never approach your brother alone. He's dangerous!"

My mother continues to scold Katya, telling her just how awful I am, but as I look into her eyes, I see some type of understanding.

My parents decide to place me in the attic, as far away from their other children as possible. It's funny because for as much as my past before a couple of months ago is a void, I don't think I've ever felt particularly close to my family — evenbefore.

There's only ever been one person who's been by my side through thick and thin—my twin, Vanya. And she's the only one who is not afraid to interact with me, even risking our parents' anger if they found out.

To everyone else, I'm just a necessary evil.

What they don't seem to understand is that my behavior isn't intentional. I don't just set out to do harm. It just... happens.

Like a haze covering my mind, I forget about my surroundings and I focus on one object only—my prey. I hone in on my target and everything else falls away. It suddenly becomes only about the unanswered questions.

How many pumps of blood does the heart have left after death? How do organs look from the inside of the body? So many questions, and so many situations to explore.

"Like that, cut through the stomach too," Vanya advises and I take heed, slicing the blade and making a straight cut from sternum to pubis. The fat under the skin is making it hard for me to get to the inside, but as Vanya urges me on, I can only dig the edge of the knife deeper, a sharp sound signaling I've hit bone — the ribs.

One of my father's men had come to bring me food. But just at that time, Vanya had a different idea. While I don't always indulge her, this time she'd pouted at me and I couldn't find it in me to say no to her.

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