Escaping the Psycho's Grasp novel Chapter 2

The tension in the train car finally snapped. A few passengers, their faces twisted with disgust, found their voices.

"That kid is out of control!"

"This is a public place! Have some goddamn decency!"

"What kind of parents raise a hellion like that!"

The dad just scoffed. "Yeah, well, you're all so classy."

Meanwhile, the pint-sized terror brandishing his plastic gun, yelled, "Shut up, or I'll shoot you all!" To punctuate his threat, he spat at the nearest unfortunate person and burst into another fit of maniacal laughter.

The little tyrant, hands on his hips, surveyed his domain with a smug grin. His gaze landed on me, and he marched over, staring intently at my iPad. He reached out and demanded, "Give it to me!"

I was taken aback. "What?"

"Give me the iPad! I want to play games!"

"Go away," I growled.

He pointed his plastic gun at me. "Give it to me, or I'll shoot you now!"

The dad chimed in, "Don't be so stingy. Just let him play for a moment. What's the big deal?"

My blood was boiling and ears were ringing. There were two little people arguing in my mind, one yelling, 'Kill him, kill him!' And the other one pleading, "Listen to him, listen to him!"

Just as my anger was about to overwhelm my rationality, a voice exploded in my ears:

Murder is illegal! Murder is illegal! Murder is illegal! Repeat important things three times.

I could feel the rage bubbling up inside me, threatening to boil over. I fumbled for my meds, desperate to swallow a couple of calming pills and regain control.

The little monster moved with surprising speed, snatching the bottle from my hand before I could react.

"Give it back!" I growled, my voice tight with warning. "Don't do something you'll regret."

He just smirked. "You're sick! Are you gonna die?" Then, he twisted the cap off and dumped the pills onto the floor. "Then you go die! Haha!"

His mother, beaming with misplaced pride, gave him a thumbs up. "Good job, son! So brave!"

Her smug grin vanished a second later when I kicked her precious little angel across the aisle. He flew through the air like a football, landing with a sickening thud.

Before she could even process what happened, I grabbed the little monster and slammed him onto the floor like a volleyball.

BAM!

"Fun, isn't it?" I asked, my voice dripping with mock sweetness.

He shook his head frantically.

"How dare you say it's not fun?!" I grabbed his toy gun and whacked him on the head. "I put so much effort into playing with you, and you say it's not fun?!"

He screamed, clutching his head and nodding vigorously. "Fun! Fun! It's fun!"

"Oh, it's so fun! Let’s play some more!"

He burst into tears, snot bubbling from his nose. "No! No more! I don't wanna play the game anymore!"

His mother finally managed to push through the crowd, and like a rabid dog, she latched onto my leg, biting and scratching.

I stomped on the back of her neck and slammed her head into the floor.

In those cheesy novels, they always write about guys like me as volatile, ticking time bombs ready to explode. Maybe that's true for other psychos, but not me. Most of the time, I'm ice-cold, way calmer than average guys.

But in my eyes, human life is cheap. Killing someone is as insignificant as squashing an ant.

Like right now, if I had a knife in hand, I'd slit her throat without hesitation.