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Confessions of a Sociopath.

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“My sweet child. What brings you here?”

“Murder, Father.”

If a Kodak moment could have been any better, it would have been with the very look of sudden judgement upon the Priest’s features. How they contorted with such horror and disgust while staring at such a pretty thing like her. Maybe even a bit of doubt, judging by the very fact his unholy gaze had swept over her entirety; taking in her petite frame, and the fragility she possessed. Yes, it was truly a shock how such a tiny thing like her had become so very dangerous. How calculating and organized her perceptions and views had formulated into such actions. 

Within the church, there was silence. Other than the creaking of the pew beneath their weight. He had joined her out of curiosity, no doubt. How so late at night, despite it coming to a close, she had found her solace upon the wooden bench for hours. From afar, he had watched. Witnessing her stare at the cross that hung above. A heavy aroma of freshly lit candles could be sensed within the air, and due to her extreme use of her senses, including the sixth that laced itself within her after crossing back over, Asoka was truly aware of other things that held their presence within.

Including the little boy that stood beside the second pew. How his cheeks were soaked with fresh tears, and his grip upon the back of the pew in front of him was tight with a white-knuckle embrace. He may not have been sensed, or even noticed by the Priest himself, but to her? That little boy was the reasoning for her being there. How such a boy of ten years old had been stripped of innocence, and life.

| You put on a faith facade. Think you’re holy when you’re not. |

Asoka knew of the Priest’s actions. How he enjoyed the touch and cries of prepubescent boys as he took the reigns of control into his hands. Weeks ago, there had been a time where the sociopath wished to come to reveal her very own actions, and maybe to him, that was what her being there had entailed. However, over the course of twenty-three days, he had been watched, studied, and written within her desires for blood-shed.

It was so very tempting to seal the deal at this precise moment. There was resistance, though. A facade had to be played. He had to be drawn in by her own sins, before she could unleash his own as a weapon against him. The thrill of the game was so very enticing to her.

“May I ask for your explanation?” He continued; uttering out the words with confidence, despite his very own worry that settled deep within.

There was a moment of silence as her tongue flicked out across her lips to wet them. A habit that had become of her over time. “Have you ever been in love, Father?” It was a question that didn’t entirely need an answer. Little did he know the exotic piece of delicacy already knew it.

“I have, my child. Does love have something to do with this?”

“Love has everything to do with what I have become.” Another moment, before her head was turning, and those onyx hues focused upon his features. So dark and void of any emotion. As if he were staring at the Devil himself, and she even noticed the nervous swallow he had taken to regain his courage. No doubt he felt something so very wrong about this scenario. He was right to feel that way, though.

“What have you become?”

“A murderer.” It was an answer that fell from her lips without missing a beat. “I have blood on my hands, Father, and love is the reasoning for such a thing.”

He seemed confused. It showed as his brows furrowed, and his calloused hands tensed within his lap. His head turned to gaze up at the cross upon the wall. Was he praying for answers? Or mercy?

| I think that chest must be heavy from that cross on your neck, that you only wear cause you’re weary of what comes next, after your death. |

“Love is what brought me back, but is also what has made me kill. I killed her, Father. Over, and over again I plunged her with a knife.” Such graphic details were rolling off her tongue; drenched with whiskey. “Her cries for mercy. Her pleas as blood coated my hands. I could no stop myself, Father. As I loved her.”

Love. Such a dangerous facade to behold.

“Can I be forgiven, Father?”

The Priest had been silent for a few moments. He’d heard confessions before. Even ones such as dark as hers, and the same answer had always been given. “I am sure God has already forgiven you, my child. Or else you would no have been drawn here.”

It amused her greatly. Even if the emotion couldn’t be witnessed upon her features, his choice of words to her very confession had gotten under her skin. Maybe even opened a door to what was waiting to be revealed.

“Could I ever be forgiven again if such a thing ever occurs for a second time?”

That grasped his attention, causing his head to turn, and his gaze to meet her unfaltering one. “Will it?” He could see it in her eyes, though, that there was a desire to kill. Whom, was the question.

“You intrigue me, Father. As for a man of such holiness, you play such a facade so very well.” She spoke. Calm words resounding from her lips. So collected she was, too. Yet itching for the release of her blade from within her sleeve. It had sat there for a good few hours. Even upon her arrival as she dared to wait patiently until his curiosity got the best of him. “I can see past the act, darling.”

Once more, there was confusion. Maybe even realization of what this exotic woman was referring to. Asoka noticed it. Guilt. Regret. Disappointment within his own self. He opened his mouth to speak, and yet, before words could even come forth, her hand darted out.

A gasp was much like a moan to her. So very arousing and laced with pain as the onyx blade pierced through his flesh; digging in deep into his gut.

| You can right all the wrongs just to feel you belong, but simply calling out sins don’t bring you closer to God. |

“You’re a perverted man, Father. Contradicting your speech as you speak of the ways of God. How so many have been blind to your activities behind closed doors is quite astonishing.”

“H-how?”

“Shh, my love. Don’t speak.”

Another gasp flitted through the air, with blood trickling from the corners of his lips. Asoka couldn’t contain herself as she leaned in so very close. Whiskey-laced breath fanning across his jaw line, as her hand twisted the knife deep into his gut. He reached out to her. For help, or not. He could fight back, or wither away to utter nothingness. Either way, the rush of blood that spilled over her fingers was so very arousing to her. Watching his eyes fall closed after staring at her with fear, and pain.

“I have been watching you for some time, Father. Even the little boy you had taken months ago has become a great company in all of this.” Speaking of that little boy, he had turned to watch the scene unfold. Laying drenched eyes as justice and bloodshed took place. “Say hello to the Devil for me. I do wish to see him again, soon.”

Those were the last words that fell from her lips, before her touch lashed out to steal some of his blood. Such a delicious taste that flooded her taste buds. Gradually, his grip upon her had ceased to exist. Much like his life.

1 Comment
  1. Author
    ????? ?????? 3 years ago

    Unfortunate, truly. However, Asoka likes working alone. So it’s all good. <3 Thank you, darlin’.

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