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Sociopathic Tendencies

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Author's note: I hope you guys will enjoy this story, for it is my first creepypasta, please don't sugar coat anything. If somethings need improvement then tell me. Also I really hope you guys like this story. If you do I will continue to make more.

I am a sociopath. I took a look at my family tree and looked at the traits. Sadly, I was the unlucky one in this generation. I don't know how to describe what I feel. I don't feel "empty" inside like someone without emotions. I feel like there's water inside and you know how water muffles your sense of feeling? Well that's how I feel inside. I'm twenty-three years old and my name is John Hans. I didn't realize I was a sociopath until one day when I was seven.

After school I walked to my house to see my father's car there. His name was Ronald Hans. You see, my father was one to beat women. So when I opened the front door, I instantly heard screams coming from the kitchen. I heard cruel, harsh yelling, which I guessed was my father, and futile, helpless pleas, which were coming from my mother. I then watched as my father threw my mother to the ground and harshly kicked her in the ribs. I just stood there watching as my father beat my mother. He picked her up and started choking her while slamming her into the wall. She looked at me hopefully and flicked her eyes to the phone. I just watched her getting choked and walked up to my room feeling nothing but numbness inside me, like when you stay in cold water too long. 

The next incident was when I was thirteen. I ran away from my parents at the age of eleven and lived in a foster home ever since. I walked into the bathroom to take a piss and was greeted by the sight of some kid getting bullied. I again just watched as the kid was beaten until the bullies got bored. Since that nightmarish day when I was seven, I vowed to kill everyone who I watched beat people. So I memorized their faces and later in life would meet them again, but this time in an old abandoned warehouse.

At the age of fourteen, I saw someone in an alleyway get mugged. It was dark out but for some unknown reason I could see the mugger's face clearly as he ran past me. I, again, didn't feel anything but numbness. Later in life, I would figure out that the numbness was a part of me, but yet at the same time, "it" was not.

When I was fifteen I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID for short. I didn't really care, for it didn't affect me in any way, shape, or form. But as I look back right now, I was sorrily mistaken. What I didn't realize was that the numbness was part of DID, or my "other personality". So when I turned seventeen I had a job and was saving up a lot of money. I had saved up about $12,345 and some change. I know what you are probably thinking, "How the hell did he save up that much?" Well I started working two jobs in overtime when I was fifteen and continued to work until I was seventeen. That's when I started to make my plan. I got about a $100,000 loan from the nearby bank to purchase a warehouse that was away from civilization. I then started to track down the three bullies from when I was thirteen. I found where Tom lived in the first week or so. He didn't live that far away, about a thirty minute drive away from my warehouse.

I then purchased some "special" items to get into his house and drug him while he slept. I proceeded to drive to his house. I cut the power and the phone cable, so he couldn't call the cops if I somehow made a mistake and woke him up. I then climbed through his bedroom window and inserted the syringe into his neck and pushed the plunger down. When I had waited about three minutes and forty-five seconds for the drug to take effect, I made sure I didn't leave anything behind that could point towards me. That was fairly easy since I had a rubber mask which covered my hair and shoulders so no hair would get left behind. I also had a gas mask on so no one could easily identify me if they saw me. I then had on elbow length rubber gloves that allowed for no skin cells or fingerprints to be left behind. I had on some tight fitting black cargo pants and tread-less combat boots on so I don't leave behind bootprints.

I then picked Tom up firefighter style. You know, the over the shoulder carry? I then climbed out of the window and placed him in the passenger's side so he wouldn't arise suspicion. I drove back towards my warehouse. He woke up once but a sucker punch to the jaw took care of him the rest of the way. I carried him through the doors and strapped him onto a table. I put the gas mask back on so I could release hallucinogenic gas into the air so he would be driven to the point of insanity while I torture him.

I went to go get my box of goodies and when I got back I noticed he was awake. Eyes wide and filled with complete terror at whatever his hallucination was. I could only imagine what I looked like to him. I then proceeded to show him all the tools of torture I had. I slowly, oh so slowly, start to drag the blade down his cheek. I could see the crimson liquid start to flow and felt that familiar numbness inside me grow until it turned into something else. Complete and utter glee at what I saw coming from his wound! I couldn't stop staring at the crimson liquid, for it was beautiful! I then proceeded to torture him in the most horrific ways possible. When I was done I disposed of the body.

I did the same with the two bullies that I had to find. It took about a month to find them all and dispose of their bodies. I turned on the news and was glad to see that a masked man was on the news for murdering three people without leaving a single trace but the picture and signature I left in their beds for their parents to find. I then started to track down the person who brutally mugged a woman. Now this man was different. He reminded me of my father. I had a special surprise for him.

I found him in a diner late at night, oh about 9:34 PM. I walked in and sat next to him. I ordered a coffee and doughnut. He looked to me and said, "Late night, eh?" I replied with a nod, because I usually didn't talk that much. Only when I had to. He then gave a grunt of pain, for I had pushed a syringe needle into his side where no one could see. This time the needle was full of Rohypnol mixed into a base of liquor. Within minutes he started to get tipsy and fell off his stool. I gave a fake look of concern and asked him if he was alright. He replied with, "I don't know," with a look of confusion on his face. I helped him up and started to walk out of the diner while giving him my shoulder. The waitress asked what I was doing and I convinced her that I was his childhood friend and I needed to help him get home. When I walked out of the door I put him into my passenger seat and closed the door. I walked around and got into the driver's seat. I asked him where he lived and he gave me his address. I drove him to his house and opened the front door with his keys and walked him upstairs to his bed. I laid him down and exited the house. I got into my car and drove to my warehouse to get my truck. I got dressed in my usual abducting gear and went back to his house and, by climbing through his window, grabbed him and took him back to my warehouse.

I then tied him down but this time I didn't make him hallucinate. I still wore my gas mask and I continued to sit and wait for him to wake up. When he woke I broke every bone in his hands and feet. He was in such agony. I felt real bliss! I just stared at him for about two hours before I did anything else. I did this because I wanted him to feel like he was in a nightmare. I then drugged him with my own concoction of drugs that make you witness something that is relatively close to a living hell. I then went and got some sleep. After about three hours of sleep I went back to him and the drug was wearing off. I could see that he tried really hard to escape because the skin on his wrist and ankles were almost rubbed off. I then finished him off with some incendiary gas and other things I will not tell. After all that was done I turned around to clean my knives and hammers and when I turned back around I didn't find the body or the table but a white padded cell with a notebook in the center and the words "Write Your Life in A Story". So I picked up the pad and started writing, "I am a sociopath. I took a look at my family tree and..."

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