A/N: I apologize for not updating the final part of this when I thought I was going to. College took over the majority of my life. For those who want to keep reading my works, I have a new story called Capricious Infection. It will have parts in it that are similar to this story. If you like horror and works like this then that may be up your alley. I will also be uploading another one-shot horror story called . and my best horror story: Toxic Butterflies.
Enjoy the conclusion of Psychopath.
By: Melissa Norvell
The white-haired general walked slowly, as if taking a casual stroll. Under his arms were the severed heads of his victims, blood and ichor still spilling from their necks, dripping onto his military uniform and staining the fabric in a vibrant red. The whispers of a newly birthed insanity spoke alluring phrases in the confines of his mind. 'When your life is severed, the fluids run out like precious silver from your veins. Blood is like a flower in bloom, full of rich colors. I want you all…to become a corpse at my feet.
There's one word to describe it.
Hauntingly…beautifully…the sounds repeat themselves.
I'm overflowing with insanity.
It repeats…the screaming.
I'm smiling…I can't stop it.
This feeling is overflowing.
It's happening again.'
Walking into the tent where his two allies had resided, Siberia was greeted by the sounds of laughing reverberating through his ears. Faded blue eyes glanced over to see Kizashi and Tezuka, laughing at something before the atmosphere changed dramatically upon realizing he had come back. The two heads he was holding hit the floor, rolling with blood streaming behind them as their grotesque expressions gazed upon them with horror-riddled sockets.
A metallic click sounded through the air as Siberia pointed a gun at the two soldiers.
"General Siberia!" Tezuka's voice was a mixture of happy and nervous at the same time. His general always was a little off, but his aura felt stranger than usual. "We thought you were dead!"
I can't stop it!
It's so enjoyable.
I'm trembling with excitement.
His smile widened wickedly as the gun trembled with mirth.
A low, unstable chuckle intensified into a cackle as his team mate's expressions transformed into those of bewilderment. This situation was growing very uneasy quickly.
"What are you doing? Watch where you point that." Kizashi tried to snap him out of it, but shots were fired into both of their legs. The two men released agonizing screams and instinctively grabbed their lower limbs in pain.
Tezuka looked up at him, his expression marred with anger and pain. "What are you doing? Are you fucking crazy?" What was the meaning of this? Was he being brainwashed into attacking his friends, or had he simply lost his mind and went AWOL? There was no doubt in his mind that this was purposely done now. He would have to be a damned fool not to acknowledge that now.
"This is your weapon of choice. A sub-machine gun. SUB MACHINE GUN. You can die quickly with more precise hits. It ensures a quick death but you can also shoot…AS MUCH AS YOU WANT!" Siberia shouted in an unstable rage as he released a round of bullets that peppered Tezuka's body.
His injured friend hit the ground as more bullets assaulted his body. "No! Please!" He shouted in disparity and fright. "No! Don't kill me!" Tezuka continued to beg violently as his body was relentlessly assaulted. The final blow dug into his skull, right between his terrified brown eyes and penetrated him, blood spraying into the air as he slumped over, robbed of all life.
Kizashi was in awe at this. He couldn't believe that Siberia would do such a thing. They had always been so close. What happened to him? What had the enemy done? He had to get out. There was no debating it. This was no longer a good friend he shared war stories with. Siberia had become nothing more than a sadistic butcher who killed without any remorse or regard for relationships.
The pain seared in his legs, to the point of causing a few stray tears to run down his olive complexion. "Why did you kill him? We've been best friends since childhood. We even enlisted in the army together. Is this about what happened? Is this because we ran off without you?" Kizashi kept talking. Maybe he could reason his ex-friend into not killing him. Slowly, he drug himself towards the back opening of the tent, looking like a wounded animal more than a human being.
The sound of a clacking against the ground reverberated in his ears as the machine gun fell to the floor. Finally, he had managed to talk some sense into the satanic general. Maybe he would be spared. At least, that was what he had thought before he pulled out a long knife, that more resembled a machete in size. Kill him and the urges will stop.
'Kill him! KILL HIM!' The voice raged in his mind as he smiled down on his pray. Blue pupils were reduced to the size of pin picks and his breathing escalated. "Your weapon of choice…" You little fucking traitor. "Is a knife."
"No, please Siberia…" Oh god. This was it. Even if he wanted to, Kizashi couldn't run. He was dead.
"It's more of a slow…painful death. You get a lot of stabs in." His voice rotated in octave accentuating on the more macabre insinuations of the phrase. This was it. He would get his ultimate sense of revenge for all they had done to him.
The adrenaline from his fight of flight response had kicked in and Kizashi tried desperately to crawl away. He dug his fingers into the grainy texture of the ground, determined to put distance between he and Siberia. His heart raced and his fear overrode the pain in his legs. "Siberia…Please listen to me…" Still, he tried to talk reason into his friend. Kizashi knew when to get away from danger, but at the same time he did worry for his friend's state. If there was a way that he could possibly snap him out of it, he was sure that the old Siberia would return.
"That's General mother fucking Siberia to you!" The white-haired man shouted as he darted over to his victim, plunging the knife deep into the spiky-haired man's rib cage. There it was. That melodious scream that was like music to his ears. There was just something so fascinating about the sounds of pain.
Kizashi screamed and attempted to fight back the best he knew how. Pained and fuming screams filled his senses as he continued to plunge the knife in and out of the struggling man before him. Kizashi tried to throw punches at Siberia, but they fell short of anything that proved effective. He was so numb that the contact of his fists did not pain him. If anything, they only amplified his killer instinct and caused him to put more force into each blow. Over and over he plunged the blade deep into his victim's body, drawing up blood as he severed the membranes and muscle tissue. His once dark gray army outfit quickly spread to an odd shade of crimson.
The spiky-haired man begged him, much as Tezuka had, to spare his life and not slay him. Terror etched on his face.
Siberia merely smiled at him. "I'm already enjoying this far too much! Scream for me! Beg me!" He taunted his dying friend below him in sadistic delight as he continued his brutal assault.
Tears streamed down the wounded man's cheeks, mixing with the blood that was splattered on him by both the knife and spray from his severed veins and arteries. His struggles were reduced to nothing. Kizashi tried to apologize, and through the gargles of blood the word 'please' slipped out weakly.
"This is how it was meant to BE!" The white-haired assailant shouted in crazed victory.
"I'm sorry…" His friend's words slipped out before his body went limp and all of the energy drained from him, ending his life once and for all. Despite that, Siberia continued his vicious assault as blood seeped from his wounds and was absorbed by the loamy soil below. He continued, over and over, one stab after another until his breath was ragged and his form did nothing but shake from the rush.
With a final plunge into Kizashi's heart, he drew back, crouching on top of the corpse. A smirk marred his blood-stained face. "You're awful. Your apology is weak but your hysteria was refreshing. It's nice to find someone who fights to the death."
He grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it out, it was slippery under his blood-coated grip. It coated his tongue as the muscle ran across the blade. "Yes, that was quite enjoyable," Siberia was satisfied with his latest slaughter. A klink sounded through the dead air as the tool of murder made contact with the ground.
His work was done here, or at least that is what he thought. Taking a final glance at the mangled corpse, he turned to exit the scene of the crime, but before he could make his way out, something crisp sounded beneath his blood-stained boot. Glassy eyes narrowed as he moved the boot to the side to reveal a crumpled and dirty piece of paper. The soldier bent over and picked up the parchment. It was folded in half and as it was lifted, a tattered picture fell out and landed face up in the dirt.
I'll be damned!
That familiar smirk of his surfaced as he gazed down at the girl in the picture. It was a quaint looking image, really. She was beautiful, with hair the color of the sky and vibrant, warm eyes that were comparable to a doe.
He instantly knew that this would be his next victim.
At his desk, he was allowed to rest from his slaughter. The crumpled note lay before him, as well as the picture of the mysterious blue-haired girl. Glancing up, he gazed into frozen eyes that stared back at him. Four detached heads, floating in jars stared back at him.
"Heh…" The noise echoed through the empty room as he grabbed his newly gathered material and propped his feet up on the desk, the remains of dirt and caked blood fell onto the wooden surface.
"The blood on my hands will soon be the blood in you, Ayumi." He spoke fondly of her, as if to promise her this macabre moment. "You will be beautifully disfigured in my hands. Those who oppose me will be dealt with accordingly. After I have gathered all of my final shadows of the past, then I can face them with a sense of confidence. After all, there is no looking back, and I am a killer. This horror of our love will be played out on my stage. If I have to, I will murder half of the town just to acquire you once again."
My dear, sweet Ayumi.
"I'll fill the graveyards until I have you. I want to hold you down and tear you open as I sing a song to you. That song you've always held so dear. That beautiful, merry melody that graces your lips when you're happy." He smiled peacefully as he sang the song to himself, immersed in the melody.
Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do
I'm half crazy all for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two!
Lyrics faded into hums as he read over the contents of the letter. Reaching for a pen and a blank sheet of paper, he took his shoes from the desk and wiped off the small mess they had made. Siberia smiled quaintly as he began to compose a letter to Ayumi.
My dearest Ayumi,
I will be coming home within a few weeks. After all of our time apart, I would love to see you and to touch you.
Putting the message in an envelope, he sent it off and waited for a response. Within a week, he got exactly what he had been hoping for.
I would love that, but we have to do it when Siberia isn't around. After all, I can't let my husband see that I am having an affair with his best friend. If he ever learned of our secret, I'd hate to think of what he'd be capable of. You know how he can be. I know that it would break his heart to know that I wasn't happy with our marriage anymore.
I'm excited to see you! I can't wait until we meet face to face again. I'll be waiting for your return.
"Don't you see, my love?" His unstable voice spoke to no one but the lone piece of parchment. "There's catastrophe in everything you touch. There are harsh, awful edges where you end and I begin. I'll hold your beating chambers until they cease their function, and enjoy the expression on your face as I drain all life from your body. Love is a beautiful and terrifying thing. One wrong move and we can dance in dark suspension. What a black waltz that will be."
A date was circled on his calendar nearby. Reaching forward, he grabbed all of the heads and stuffed them into a black bag and then exited the room.
"As of today, I am officially AWOL. Let them come and find me if they can. One by one, they will fall to my hand. If they so desire to meet their bitter end. The last one will be mine."
'It will be mine!'
"All of this time…"
'For FAR TOO LONG…'
"She had been taking advantage of me. All of them…"
"ALL OF THEM! Best friends are only good to stab you in the back and in the front. Tezuka…is having an affair with my wife for years behind my back. In the end, she'll be the one who is under ME! My face will be the last one that she sees."
My dear, sweet Ayumi
It's happening again.
This feeling is…
His face contorted into a display of madness.
"He should really learn that the one her mind, body, and soul truly belong to is the one who can take the very breath from her body and stop the very beat of her heart." Siberia took the heads and placed them in the back basket of a nearby black bicycle as if it were his own and he were committing no real crime.
A man ran up to him with an angry expression. He was athletically built, clad in running shorts and a t-shirt. "Hey you! What do you think you're doing?" He shouted as he stopped short of the general. His protests were quieted quickly as a sword was rammed through his chest. The blade punctured him with a single pop as Siberia drew the body close to him.
"You won't need it where you're going," the general purred as he ripped it out carelessly and left the body where it lay, peddling off on his own agenda.
He rode for several miles, happily humming the tune of A Bicycle Built for Two. Soon, houses came into view as he entered what appeared to be a small town. The general rode past a small yard where a tall, slender woman with long, blue hair was watering plants with a bright yellow tin. She was clad in a long-sleeved, pink shirt with a pearl necklace and a long, yellow, skirt.
"Hm?" She questioned, turning from her mundane chore as the bike rolled past. She caught a glimpse of the general as he peddled past. "That's strange…but it couldn't have been…"
In a house down the street, blood littered the floor, as if someone had slung it around the room haphazardly. In a portion of the room, the boards were missing and a large, oblong hole. One by one, Siberia drug the newly slaughtered corpses into the hole. 'Just like a scene from The Tell-Tale Heart, dismembered bodies beneath the floor board.' His satisfied thoughts reeled as his blood-splattered face twisted into that familiar smile. "There is one minor difference…"
Yes, a very MINOR difference.
"I do not possess the manifesting guilt of the narrator," he said to himself as he hammered the boards back into place and threw a rug over the hole, giving the façade of a normal, harmless-looking wooden floor.
Nearby was a blank easel, once used by an artist in the family to paint vibrant landscapes, would now be used for a sadistic portrait or a murderer's future victim. Sitting a few shallow, open containers on a stand near the easel filled with blood, he dipped a brush into the substance and began to paint a picture on a blank canvas.
You'll soon be mine.
When he was finished with his masterpiece, Siberia casually got up and left the picture standing to dry. It was a portrait of Ayumi that was a near perfect render of the picture that he had found in her letter to Tezuka. He never ceased to continue humming the tune of A Bicycle Built for Two.
When he had passed out, he didn't remember but the general found himself waking up in the middle of a circle of chairs. Each chair contained the severed head of one of his prized victims. He sat up before the pieces of furniture, the severed head of Kizashi staring back at him with hollowed sockets. Siberia cracked an affectionate smile at the head as he ran his hands through its bloodstained, matted spikes. "Today is my day of reckoning. My shadows have been gathered. I can finally lay my past to rest, my dear friend Kizashi." Picking up the appendage, he sweetly kissed its forehead and sat it back on its pedestal. "This is the day I become whole again."
The day that I find my one…true…calling!
"Ayumi…I'm coming for you."
A loud, crisp knock sounded on her door as a gasp of excitement was released. Ayumi's face lit up in happiness. Today was the day that she would see him again! She ran over to the door, unsuspecting and innocent to what was lurking on the other side.
"It's him! I just know it!" Her feminine voice held the joy of an innocent child as she flung open the door with a bright smile. "Hello! Welcome-" The girl's face morphed instantly as she laid sights on her unexpected guest. Her blood ran cold and her soul filled with horror. "Siberia…"
Kill her now.
"What? I thought that you died in the war," Ayumi was as shocked as she was horrified. She could hardly believe that Tezuka lied in the letter he had wrote before he had passed truly passed away at the hands of his best friend.
Siberia walked mechanically inside, covered in the blood of the innocent family he had viciously slaughtered. Nothing could be heard but the sound of his soles making contact with the floor and a jingling that seemed louder than usual. Closer and closer he came to his wife. If she hadn't taken a step back, then he would have been on top of her. His pupils had shrunken again, as madness infected him like an infectious virus.
"That look in your eyes," Ayumi's voice shook as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket and flipped it open, revealing the message to Tezuka. Her eyes widened and she visibly trembled. Anxiety seized her form and her heart raced so badly that she could feel it beating against her sternum.
She had been caught.
"Its funny how that mask of illusion dissipates after a while. Tell me, Ayumi, did I shatter your hopes? Did I ruin your happiness?"
Or maybe I saved your body from being less defiled, you damned whore!
"You were the one…"
The ONLY ONE!
"That I had to turn to, and now that bond is shattered. We all know that once we've lost something, it can never be returned." That familiar feeling washed over him: the rush of excitement, the numbing of the senses and the ultimate high of elation.
"Siberia, please…" Ayumi tried to reason, but he was beyond reconciliation. He drew his weapon of choice for her, the sword that he used to slay the biker and the family. "Siberia…"
"Do you like it? This is who I really am."
The REAL me!
"Please, you don't want to do this," She tried to reason with him calmly, despite her urges to throw up or pass out. Her nerves could not be more shattered than what they were now. For once, Ayumi had experienced what it was like to be truly descending into hell.
"So beautiful…to dance in a pool of your blood…" His voice was detached from reality, submerged in its own gory world.
"You're scarring me," she knew he was beyond caring, but she tried to reach him despite this. Maybe if she made him realize that she was a human being, then he would calm down and realize his mistake. She had done wrong but the situation was not beyond talking out.
He merely chuckled in delight.
The pain is so enjoyable.
I want to see it on your face.
It's happening again…
Out of nowhere, he shot out, grabbing her hand harshly as he drew the blade back. "I want to watch you suffer!" His voice was violent and loud as he mercilessly thrust the sword forward. An ear piercing scream echoed through the walls of the once quaint house as blood splattered against the porcelain complexion of his wife. Her life was instantly taken, a grace more forgiving than that of his other victims. Ayumi's body went limp and fell to the ground with a thump.
Siberia bent over her, taking her head into his hands and kissing it passionately as blood filled both of their mouths. Pulling away, blood trailed down the corner of his blood-stained mouth. He smiled to himself in crazed joy. "I've done it. The very last ghost of the past…the last skeleton that littered my closet will be removed. Now I can be free, and look at the world through different eyes."
Ayumi, Ayumi give me your answer do.
I'm half CRAZY all for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet, upon the seat…
In the back cage of his bicycle, a mass of sky blue hair fluttered in the wind as Siberia peddled down the street. Her head traveling with him as a trophy that signified a new life in the eyes of a psychopath.
Of a bicycle built for two!
He stared back at her horror-filled expression as he relived the last minutes of her life. "You see, my precious Ayumi, this is who I am..."
This is my destiny!
"…and even though this part of my life is over, I'll rise up again…"
I WILL return!
"The lives of those who've decided to make my life hell will be savagely ripped from them. You see, in life, there is not a single thing that is not obtained or earned without something or someone dying or being disposed of in the process."
This cycle repeats…
Written: 1/26/12 1:52 a.m.
Typed: 11/9/12 11:15 a.m.
A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this story. It's the first plotless thing I've probably ever written. It was purely for fun, so it should not be critiqued too hard. It really was just a fun horror-fic with mindless killing. I was shocked that so many people liked something like this, and I was never aware that these types of stories just did not exist in the manga world.
Happy reading to those who have reviewed my works. Please check out my story Capricious Infection if you liked this one. It has more of a plot and moving storyline. As always, any reviews given will be returned.