Psychological Short Story – The Devil Made Me Do It
Photo credit: clarita from morguefile.com
“Ms. Altman, are you aware of your crime?”
His watchful eyes made me feel helpless, but the silhouette that shadowed him refueled my rage. I pulled against my handcuffs, and snarled at the figure behind him.
“Darling, he can’t see me. Only you have the pleasure,” she purred, drawing closer to me.
I stared at her, hatred boiling at the back of my throat, tears burning at the back of my eyes, anger raging at the back of my mind, but I swallowed it, knowing that she savors every morsel of my agony.
“I. Didn’t. Do. It,” I glared at him as he gave me a condescending smile, and scratched some notes.
“You were the only one in the kitchen, bent over the headless body of your mother, holding what was clearly the murder weapon.”
I stifled a scream as she crossed her legs whilst making herself comfortable on the table. She looked at me for a few seconds, and then threw her back and whooped with delight when a tear slipped down my cheek.
“Finally, the brave, brave girl breaks,” she whispered, leaning down to caress my cheek.
I cringed away, and pulled against the handcuffs. I could feel the warmth of the blood drawn by the cuffs trickle down my wrists, but the inferno that raged inside me numbed out all the pain. The cop tried to calm me down, but I couldn’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. I bit at her hand, and snarled at her.
She withdrew her hand with a hiss, and then slapped me with so much force that the world rouged for a second. I could feel her nails dig into my skin, and the trickle of blood that flowed out of the wounds.
I shrugged my shoulder to my cheek in an attempt to wipe away the blood, but not a speck of crimson stained my white shirt.
The police officer stood up, his expression seething with rage.
“Look, sweetheart,” he growled, “we’ve all had a long day, and I’m not really in the mood to sit in this goddamn cubicle with a freakshow. So I’ll ask you once again. Are. You. Aware. Of. Your. Crime?”
I looked at him, trying to convince him with my eyes. Desperately trying to convey a message without her hearing me, for the tortures she inflicted were not only of the physical kind. She could warp my mind, make me do the things that I would have normally never done.
I should have known when I made the deal.
“She made me do it,” I said, pointing a trembling finger at her.
He huffed out an exasperated sigh, “Keep up the act, Miss, and you can probably get out after a few sessions with the therapist.”
The woman looked at me, and imitated my wobbling lower lip, “Sh-she m-made me do it!”
She let out a shriek of laughter, and jumped from the table, falling in front of me.
She circled me, like a tigress around a rabbit, and then stopped behind me.
I tried to follow her movements to make sure that she doesn’t make me do something even more dangerous.
“I can help you escape.”
I stopped breathing for a second, my swallow loud in my ears. I could feel my heart pouncing with excitement.
“I won’t give you anything,” I whispered.
“I don’t need anything,” she whispered, her lips brushing against my ear, “but your consent.”
Consent to control my body, consent to kill my conscience, consent to let her presence cloud mine.
Consent for her to be herself.
“No,” I hardened my voice. I could see that the police officer had already given up on me. He had stepped to the corner of the room and was now talking on the phone with a raised voice.
“I will have control,” I said, adding steel to my voice.
“No chance in hell, sweetheart. You’ve never been in control since you let me in.”
“Then I’ll stay here,” I could feel the tremble in my voice betraying my fear, and she could feel it too.
“You will be tortured to the point where you can’t make any decisions, where there is nothing left of your mind except for me. I’m bound to take your body,” she looked into my eyes with her own empty ones, “it can be now, where I am free to leave your presence whenever I want to, or it can be in the prison, where I will never leave your body.”
I considered both my options. I had condemned myself the day I let her in, and now I would pay the price.
“You will give back my body to me the second we’re out of here.”
She only smiled at me, and twirled a strand of white-blond hair with a finger.
I closed my eyes, and waited.
One….
Two….
Three…
Fo-
I snapped open her eyes, which were now mine, and looked around the small excuse of a room. I looked at the cop, and gave him the most flirtatious smile that her lips allowed. I tugged at the cuffs, and then curled my fingers in an inviting motion.
He looked puzzled for a second, and then walked towards me, looking at me as if I was some sort of maniac.
“I would like you to let me go.”
“And I would like you to shut up and admit to your crime,” he glared at me, “Seems like we want to very different things.”
I sighed dramatically, “What a pity then.”
I tugged at both the handcuffs, and made sure he was watching when I broke away the cuffs at the chain. His eyes widened in horror, and he drew his gun. Before he could pull the trigger, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his head, and brought my body down with all the force I could muster.
He fell down with a thud, and I grabbed his pistol, turned off the safety, and shot him twice, once on the head, and once on the chest.
I walked out of the booth, shooting anyone who got in my way.
“STOP RUNNING, AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” I heard a scream behind me. I turned around and pulled the trigger, but it only clicked. Unable to feel the pulse of the recoil, I shoved the gun in the waistband of her jeans. I kept running, relishing the thrill of the chase.
I stepped in front of the first car I saw. I put the gun to the driver’s head, “Drive!”
The teenage boy swallowed twice, and swerved to a U turn as I gave the directions.
He stopped right in front of her house. Without a word, he opened the door. I stepped out, but he stopped me before I could walk away.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” I said, and walked right into my house. A few seconds later, the sound of a car speeding away could be heard.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, and waited with more patience than I thought I had
I fell, and the world was on the brink of darkness when she slapped my cheek. My eyes returned to focus, when I ran my fingers over my body to check for injury.
I felt a bulge at my waistband, and pulled out a gun.
“What the hell did you do?” I whispered to her.
“Took his gun. Thought you might need it.”
“Where is he now?” I asked, fearing the answer to the question.
She sliced a nail across her throat, and stuck out her tongue.
Dread settled at the pit of my stomach. I checked the chambers of the gun
Empty
“I killed so many,” I whispered, my veins now of Novocain.
“Don’t take all the credit,” she pouted, and then threw an arm around my shoulders, “it was teamwork!”
I shook free of her touch, “You can never have my body again. ”
“Oh, come on, we have a deal!”
I walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a knife.
She looked into my steely eyes, and then at the knife, “You can’t kill me, sweetheart. You tried that, remember?”
I swallowed, and then forced my lips into a smile.
“Yes, I do,” I said, and then I plunged the knife into my own heart.
Her eyes, for the first time, gave hints of emotion. Her black eyes were now pools of terror, sorrow, and anger, all mixed in one.
The last thing I saw was darkness, and the last thing I felt was triumph.
–END–
