Journals of a Psychopath

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Clarkson was abused by his mother, knifed and raped. He repays womenkind for the pain.

The Samuel Residence when a youngster

Deeming about when Stepfather let me down acutely. Vapid and he did not defend me from the tormentor Mother.
      “Clarkson has spilt his milk,” Hanson said.
Striding into the room and Mother’s silvery-blonde hair waved across her shoulders. Pushing me, I fell off the chair, and Hanson laughed.
      “You should conduct yourself the same as Hanson does,” Mother said.
I hated my twin.
      “Your mother is right.”
Stepfather scanned the newspaper and he peered over the top as he said the statement.
“Mother Clarkson is presenting as hostile again, he should not behave in that way.”
“Go to your room and do not come out until I give you permission,” Mother said.
Traipsing to my area, Hanson passed me on the stairs. He shoved me into the wall.
“I will make sure Mother does not let you out for a very long time,” he said.
“You are vile and maybe one day I will pay you back for your constant tales to Mother,” I replied.
Fleur

Inking her name on the scroll and the calligraphic penmanship was elaborate. I savoured what she would bequeath, when she removed the pollution, and justified me by her agony. Fleur’s elfin-shaped face was surrounded with a shock of silvery-blonde hair and her body perfect. Her breasts soft balls of milky skin. Massaging perfumed oil on my body and I dressed in the ensemble. Grooming Fleur’s hair, I cogitated suitably concerning her pain. Slicing Fleur’s genitalia with the sword, the squeals tore from her larynx. The gore smeared the cloak and seemed to possess jagged edges. Hacking her neck and she experienced utter pain before the head slipped from her shoulders. Bowling a few inches from the corpse, the head stopped, and the wind lifted the strands shielding the severed skull. Washing in the river, it was icy-cold, and ripples eddied around my form. Beholding, the Trees portraying admiration and I remained in the river, the Exemplars appreciated the spectacle. I waded further in and the water came to my neck.
“Come back to us we are engrossed by the performances,” the Trees and the Archangel said.
Splashing to the Epitomes and they smiled.

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