Smart=Psychopathic

From: High School (Rumors fresh off the grill)

It was rumored that there's a curse on any girl percussionists who try to stay all four years. I mean, can anyone actually recall a time when there was a senior lead percussionist who was female and led the drumline...no. So, it was told that any girl who was a percussionist and drumline memeber would quit before highschool or would mysteriously stop. As a disbeliever of cliche's, I ignored this. Now, natrually, with 3 years left till this dead line, and already a chance I'll be going to live in a KC suburb, I'll redirect my attention to a different one called the 'Psychopath.'

There's this old legend that one of the smartest kids always turns into the psychopath. I personally didn't believe that till she (A) changed. I won't give her name away, since she actually is connected to this blog. Anyway, she had to be a pretty smart kid, used to cry a lot, used to get real emotional, but she was smart. She used to hold grudges easily, get upset easily, and rely on only one friend, and I guess, that we all wished for her to change.

It isn't like she was a bad person, but all that stress, all that crying drove us all nuts. Then, around 7th grade, second semester, she started to change. I, personally, think it was due to (J). He was perverted, and taught her the meaning of a lot of words she didn't even know, like the girl didn't know what 'rape,' 'moleost,' 'bastard,' and 'f***' meant. Since he used them on a daily basis, he had to explain them to her. The counselor recommended she do a sport, she chose Track, and then we all hoped she would mature and become less like a crybaby.

We got our wish I guess.

When 8th grade hit, everything was different. She had developed different tastes and was mature. There was no more fights in Band, no more crying. I witnessed someone call her a mean name and she just laughed at them. It was a miracle. She improved in Track, because she was kinda sucky at first, and did long distance. She could be perverted, and understand most everything perverse. Yet, she wasn't open, and still relied on only one person.

I guess, it was not everything we wanted, so we asked for another miracle.

Suddenly, her and her friend had a falling out, due to a bizarre personality change in A. It was really strange, considering she was really close to her friend. When A talked about movies, they no longer were just the innocent (or not so) of Beetlejuice, but extended to some of the more gross horror movies. Natrually, a few of us were a little creeped out. I was one of the ones, who hadn't noticed the changes during 8th grade, but now that I think about it, she was changing then, laughing at people's misery, often joking in a dark fashion, and we blew if off as just her method of dealing with stress.

As the Freshmen year kicked off, A was a bit shy, but then another personality change must have hit her, because she became social, and strangely open about all her ideas. She would tell people about her visions of killing people. I was a bit disturbed, but we all talked about it behind her back, and decided she was going through a phase.

Sadly, this 'phase' didn't die out, but mutated into something worse. Suddenly, she would sometimes clench her fists in class, when people pissed her off. She would tell the nearest friend, that if--God bless her--whoever it is that was bugging her didn't stop, she would murder them. Sometimes that was followed by a very detailed description of how she would kill that person.

Now, it was hard to ignore. Sometimes she would stare off, and when we stirred her out of it, she would just start smiling. Her grades were as good as ever, still all A's perfect and she always knew the answer. Despite her murderous attitude, she started making friends with some of the more popular kids, giving us hope that this was an effort at attention...it didn't stop though.

Rather than just write these scenes, she began to draw them, and give people her writings and drawings as 'presents.' It wasn't a gift though, it was a curse. Some of us, found her amusing, other of us (including me) were growing wary, not knowing how to take her sudden bouts. She became peppy about her detailed descriptions, like some type of "I'm going to kill you" cheerleader. Everyone once in a while, ever since--who the heck supplies her with these horror movies--she watched House of 1000 Corpses, she would cheerfully shout "Run Rabbit Run" and if you didn't run, she would get incredibly cheerful and really rough with her actions. When you did run, she would chase you, but, thanks to the person who suggested she take Track & Cross Country (are we trying to make her a psychopath that can kill us all) she would always catch you.

She became sadistic with this, and sometimes just plain cruel. Teacher's still think she's perfect, all A's, always questioning basic beliefs with creative answers, what's not to love. She tried so hard in every subject, and even when her creep factor spilled into her school work, she would still pull through as a favorite.

Sometimes, you wanted to envy her, but I guess we have to hope that we're not nutring a psychopath, I think she's still partly normal.

She has a crush on a boy, but the weird thing is, her reason for it. She said she liked the way he thought, his personality, his aura. Odd, but the guy was a bit of a jerk and not hot, but she liked him. She still strived to fit in with some groups, and improve at somethings, but then again, if you read what she writes and what she draws, then we're harboring a psychopath.

Here's a rough excerpt of some of her writing, copied from where she wrote it on a piece of paper.

She ran, her breaths coming out short and fast, not used to exercise such as this. Clutching her stomach, she ducked around the corner, starting to wish that she exercised more and stayed in shape. I took my slow sweet time following her, calculating how long before she reached the dead end, how long before she was trapped. There was so many things I wanted to do to her to make her pay, and I wasn’t going to stop till the light from her eyes disappeared and her blood soaked the tiles. She may be a mom, a person with a life, but there was only so much you could say to me before I got mad.

“Run rabbit, run” I muttered under my breath, quoting Rob Zombie. Unlike his movie, I was real, and I loved the chase. The pounding of feet desperate to get away. She was a fat, heavy bunny, who wasn’t going to get away, no, she wasn’t. I would let her run after each hit, let her get weaker, let her get desperate and scared, pleading, begging. I would enjoy watching her suffer.

For fun, I put on a burst of speed, and rounded the corner, crowbar in hand. Swinging it, I bashed her in the gut, and watched her double over, a bruise probably forming. There was a small cut, blood coming from it already... pity. She shrieked her, scream like a banshees, I swung again in the same place, her cry of pain softer this time.

“Shut up you f*****’ b****” I shouted, swinging the crowbar again, striking her in the leg. I wanted her to get up and run, so I could hunter her down, watch her fear, but she just collapsed to the ground. Angered, I pulled out a knife.

“RUN, you f***** stupid rabbit, RUN, before I stab you to death!” She pulled herself to her feet, crying, and I had no regret. Mascara ran down her cheeks and blood from the gashes, but I smiled at her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice faint. “What did I do wrong?” She stared at me, big gray eyes pleading, asking for mercy.

I buried the knife into her stomach and leaned in close, my mouth next to her ear.

“Nothing, I just want you dead.” I whispered.

Pulling out the knife, I proceeded to have some art time. Might as well carve some pretty pictures for people to see on her, since she’s so damn ugly, so damn ugly on the inside and out. Maybe people needed to see her insides, maybe people needed me to cut her open and show them her insides.

She was still alive, I knew my strike did nothing to kill her. With all that fat on her, it would take a while for the knife to reach a killing point, to reach one of her internal organs such as her kidney or liver.

I drew a kitty cat face lightly on her stomach, only mildly there, barely any blood. Kitty cats were cute, they were beautiful creatures who meowed and purred. This was only a waste of space who disrespected everyone and ate more in a single sitting then a child in Africa ate in a year.

That made me angry, she didn’t deserve a mouth, a tongue, she didn’t deserve those. Before the scream could come, I forced her mouth open and cut out that vile tool, and threw her tongue behind me. A gargled scream came from her mouth and I jammed the knife in her mouth, cutting her gums. Why wouldn’t she shut up, why did they never know to shut up!

Pulling out another knife from my belt, I decided she was going to die eating the words back she said. Rising off of her, as she had been knocked to the ground with my attacks, and its easier to sit on her and carve her up, I went to find her tongue.

Ah, here it is. Ew, there’s filth on it, how despicable. Oh well, I imagine she never had a clean mouth anyway. Walking back over, I noticed she had decided to try and crawl away. Her blood leaving a trail. She had removed the knife from her mouth, and still clutched it in her hand, pulling herself weakly.

I needed to stop her; I didn’t need her crawling away while I was working. Grabbing a bell-set, as my little chase had let me right outside the band room, fun. I dropped it on her knees. A gargled scream echoed down the long empty corridors, hitting lockers and traveling farther.

Much better, she no longer moved. Her eyes were watching me, fear heavy, absolute terror.

All the better to not see you my dear.

I stuck the knife she had grabbed weakly in her left eye, because I see better in my left eye, and I just felt like left eyes were fun to stick things in.

…

She was nearly dead, I guess all that blood loss was going to kill her.

Four knives in the mouth, and her tongue, heavens know she needed to eat her words, wer ein her mouth.

Satisfied, I walked away.

Here's the warning to you all, be careful of the smart ones, they might be on the border line of a psychopath...