Page 8 of Psycho

She lives in a cozy little neighborhood. There are four houses, including hers, on one side of the street, but only two houses on the other side. They are all cookie cutter, two floor, single-family homes. I park on the street, get out, and go to her back door, with my sledgehammer in my hand. There are a hundred different ways I could get inside without her knowing, but that defeats the purpose. I want little Anastasia to know I’m watching. I want her to jump at every fucking sound, wondering if a Bonetti brother is coming for her. That’s the very reason I smash the window on her back door, to let myself in.

My brother, Bones, is the head of our family, and made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that I was not to touch her. I believe his words were to ‘not touch a single hair on her head’. He will point to this, and tell me this is the reason our father didn’t make me the head of the family. I get really fucking sick of hearing that shit. Am I fucking happy about how things have turned out? Hell no. It should’ve been me, but I’ve mostly made peace with it. I am who I am, and I wouldn’t change a fucking thing I’ve done in my life. I’ve never had any regrets, and this won’t be one either.

‘You don’t think things through, Psycho. You’re unhinged and careless.’

I’ve heard it all, and I don’t agree. Okay, yeah, maybe I’m a little unhinged, but I’m not careless. Bones thinks, since she has nothing on us, there’s no harm. Nothing can touch us, but that’s not the fucking point. If you come after us, you die. I don’t mind picking up his slack, because if you want a job done right, you do it yourself. Again, the thought enters my mind that it was always supposed to be me to take over, but I shove the thought away, because now is not the time to be thinking about my goddamn family drama.

People draw comparisons between myself and my brother, Reaper, constantly, because we’re both the same brand of evil. There’s one big difference though. He’ll kill you quickly. I’ll do it slow, because the torture is what I’m after. When they finally die, I always have a slight pang of sadness, because I can’t hurt them anymore.

After glancing around her spotless kitchen, I make my way to the carpeted stairs, to find her bedroom. That’s where secrets are always kept. Is there a boyfriend? This is where I’ll find whatever I need to know about her.

I stop mid-step, when I spot photographs on the wall. An image of a small child catches my attention. A little boy that looks to be three or four. Further up, there’s another picture, of a man in his thirties, holding an infant. I stare at it for a long moment, feeling that weird deja vu, like I’ve seen him before, but dismiss it, because no recognition follows. This must be her family, but I don’t know who they are. I don’t really care.

I walk through the first door, and instantly know it must be the master bedroom. It’s large, with an ensuite bathroom. A queen sized bed sits in the middle of the room, with a deep purple satin comforter. An arrangement of flowers is placed on the matching white end table, beside the bed. On the other side of the room sits a matching dresser. Everything has an innocence to it, and it makes me smile. There’s something beautiful about evil destroying purity.

Walking over to her dresser, I open the drawer, and pull out a purple vibrator.

Okay, maybe not as pure as I thought.

I hold it up to my nose and inhale. A faint scent remains, along with the soap she must have used to clean it. I’m not planning on fucking her, but I wouldn’t rule it out either. I’ve seen her in person now, along with her pictures, and little Anastasia is fucking gorgeous, and her screams will only make her more appealing. Slipping the toy into my pocket, I go through her assortment of lace panties. So much fucking purple.

Little lamb, I think you have a problem.

There’s nothing here that suggests she has a boyfriend. I’m confident she lives alone, since there are only women’s clothing in the dresser, and closet.

I have one more thing to do, to let her know I was here, before I can leave. Walking back over to her bed, I unzip my pants and pull my cock out, stroking it, while I imagine what she’ll look like with blood dripping down her skin. The way she’ll cry for me. The bargaining. She’ll tell me she’ll do anything, if I make the pain stop. Then she’ll realize that only intensifies the pain, and she’ll break into a million fucking pieces.

Gripping my length harder, I fuck the palm of my hand, and can almost taste her tears, as I climax with a groan all over her pretty comforter. With a grin, I pull out my knife, and shred her pillows. I toss a card down on her, now destroyed, pillow, with ‘Psycho’ scrawled just underneath the Bonetti Brothers logo, along with her now empty notebook.

I tuck myself back into my pants, before setting up a camera that’s going to catch her reaction, when she walks into her bedroom, and finds my cum on her bed, ruining the angelic look she has created with this room.

Eyeing the white bookshelf in the corner, I decide that’s the best spot for the camera. I set it among three porcelain angels, as I snicker to myself. Fitting. Her collection of books is interesting. Trial Law makes sense, given what she does. However, The Complete Mafia History makes me laugh. If this is how she plans to take us down, she never had a chance.

I head down the stairs to leave, and place a camera in her kitchen, among her collection of teas. When she calls the police, and I’m confident she will, this is where they’ll start, most likely, and I want to watch her fucking unravel, as they essentially do nothing. Letting the Chief know to watch for this ensures no surprises. He knows damn well to only send dirty cops. Odds are, it would’ve been fine anyway, since we own close to the entire department at this point, but I don’t need the added headache of dealing with some asshole that wants to save the world.

CHAPTER SIX

PSYCHO

I’ve been watching this camera for the last hour, and my patience is wearing thin. Where the fuck is she? My phone vibrates, as my eyes dart from the two camera feeds on my laptop in my office. ‘Reaper’ flashes across the screen, and I have no choice but to answer, while I eagerly await her appearance on my monitor.

“Black or blue?” He asks, before I even say hello.

“What?”

“Black or blue? For my vest.”

“Right,” I groan, “The wedding. Black.”

I have no idea why anyone would want to vow to be faithful to someone for the rest of their life. It doesn’t make any fucking sense in my brain, but I’m glad my brother chose Bella, if he had to choose someone. She’s as crazy as he is. I like her a lot more than my brother Kage’s girl, Raina. I’d still kill her if I got the go ahead. If they betray you once, they will betray you twice. It’s that simple. I see things in black and white, there’s no gray. Either you can be trusted or not. If it’s the latter, you will cease to exist.

“Gotta go, Reaper,” I say, when I spot her back door opening.

I disconnect the call, before he has a chance to keep me on the phone longer, and zoom in on the camera in her kitchen. She steps over the broken glass, as her eyes dart around the kitchen, surely wondering if her intruder is still in the house. I turn the sound up all the way, and I can just hear her panicked breaths, as she walks through the kitchen. Once she’s out of camera view, I wait while she inspects the rest of her house. I’m surprised she hasn’t called the police yet, but I wait for her to make it to the bedroom, while I mentally berate myself for not putting cameras everywhere.

Finally, her bedroom door opens, and she walks into view. Anastasia appears to notice the pillows first, as she moves closer to the bed. Unfortunately, her face is hidden, since my current viewing point is her back, which isn’t bad to look at, but I’d prefer to see her fear. She shakes her head, turns, and sits on the edge of the bed. I chuckle as she places her hand, palm down, on my cum, and jumps up in a frenzy. I turn the volume up, and listen to her freaking out.

She holds her hand in front of her, spreading her fingers, as the white substance strings from one finger to the other.

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