Do you trust me?

Sometimes life changes you. The things you go threw change you, and there's nothing you can do about that. Right? Or is there? But first let me introduce myself. My name... well if you must know. Its Sebastian Ford. My life. well that's what your here for right? Or are you here for my good looks? I'm joking. Maybe. Anyway, here's the thing. I don't even know where to start, maybe I'll start with what changed me. Life is full of surprises especially when you never had love. Well here goes. They call me psychotic... They break me apart. They never hesitate to call me a mon ster, but what are they? They tell me they're trying to help. However they never bother to ask me why I done what I had to do. Are you going to be different? They wouldn't care, they only jump to conclusions. Sure I done what I had to do, but I was pushed to my breaking point. How do they expect me not to become a monster after...? Well not that it matters now. I don't even know what I'm talking about right? Even if I did you wouldn't believe me. No one does. After all I'm the crazy one. I can't blame them though. If I wasn't the one that lived it, I wouldn't believe the person either. It's no wonder people are scared of me... I'm scared of myself, and what I'm capable of. Oh well. No one sides with a psychopath. I'm used to it. Did you know I killed a cat when I was seven? Isn't that how all serial killers start out? Well I had a logical reason for it. Well I think it's logical. It was my birthday. No one came to my party, and my old neighbors cat always stole my food. So, on that day. I caught it. Then I took it out behind my pale white house, and I bashed it's small round face in with a rock. Then I sneaked into my poor moms kitchen, found the biggest knife she had in her wooden knife holder. Went back to the tiny crime scene, only to cut it up into tiny pieces to hide the evidence. Then I burned them one by one. I hated that cat. No one ever knew, except me... I can remember the neighbors calling for that dumb little cat for days before giving up... See, you believed that. That's because you don't know anything about me. You just assumed that I was telling the truth, because I said I was a psychopath. That's what you expect from one, so you never believed it was a lie. It's not true. At least, not all of it. On my seventh birthday no one came to my party, except the cat. He was my only friend. I would never kill him. After all I'm not heartless, just psychotic. Wouldn't you be psycho too if you'd have been an outcast all through out school, and a nobody at your house? I only ever had the voices in my head, and a cat. I guess I really do deserve death. If I was really like they are telling me I am, then I guess I really am a monster... They tell me I'm going to pay for what I did, I suppose it would help if I knew exactly which one they were referring to. But f**k. With all these voices in my head I can't remember which one... Gosh, did you really fall for that one too? This is too easy. And I actually thought that those people I tricked into coming into my basement was gullible. Okay, I guess I should start being truthful now. Man, that's so boring, but here goes. I've never actually talked to anyone before. I've been locked up in a basement for years. I only got fed maybe twice a week, if I was lucky. I was chained to a wall. My bed was a thin mattress with springs popping out. I only had a ripped up sheet as a blanket. Thankfully in here I have a nice bed and blanket. One night, I realized the shackles on my ankle could potentially be picked... So I waited, and waited for my next meal. Finally after days, he brought it to me. Giving me the normal half eaten burger, that was at least a month old. If they were going to keep me here, at least they could feed me properly. The burger smelled like a rotten deer carcass. Don't worry. By now, the hunger pains were too painful. You'd eat eat whatever you could get your hands on. I was used to it. I've had worse... (But they call me the psychopaths.) It's been so long; yet I still remember the stench and awful toughness of this burger. I needed a knife just to help me eat it. I wasn't good enough for even a metallic one, like everyone else got to use. Not that I'm complaining. He was feeling generous that day, because I actually got one. Jokes on him. Man, was he in for a treat! As soon as he handed me my food. I grabbed a hold his wrist. That's the moment I felt the remanding humanity I had left snap. I still remember that exhilarating rush of excitement. I shiver, just thinking about it. Don't worry. This is the best part: are you ready? Of course you are. I stood up, and looked him directly into his twisted dark brown eyes. For the first time in three years, I smiled a cold hearted full smile that showed all of my teeth. Stupid fool. He actually walked over to me, and gave me a knife! He must have thought he broke me down, or that I was weak. He jerked his arm out of my grip. Then he lifted it to hit me. Usually I take it, but this time I stopped him. I grabbed his arm and with inhumane strength that just came out of no where, I heard a sickening crunch. The arm bone snapped like a twig. That's all the encouragement I needed to continue. I remember actually laughing as I looked at him. I saw actual fear in his eyes. Good. He will know what it feels like to be treated as less than dog s**t. I twisted his arm to an awkward angle so fast he took a second to even realize what just happened. Shock, pain, and then anger all filled his eyes and in a flash they all just disappeared. I just laughed, it sounded frigid and frightening even to my own ears. Then I turned my head to the side as I watched him struggle against my grip. I can remember the feeling of his windpipe in my hand. I felt him swallow right before I crushed it with my bare hands. Then I just watched as he struggled to breathe for minutes. When he fell to the ground silently begging for help with his sad pathetic eyes. I listened satisfied with the choking noises desperately escaping his throat. I watched the life drain out of his dark orbs. Then I picked up the knife, and picked the shackles setting free my foot. I ran out of the basement. I was heading for the front door, when I was grabbed from behind. I just spun around and was faced with a woman in her mid-forties. I reached for her neck so quickly she couldn't even blink, much less fight back. I pulled her head with so much force, a powerful snap echo's through the whole house. See, I told you this is where it gets good. You didn't believe me did you? That's when I heard a baby crying. It was close by. I busted the door down looking for it, until I found it. I have to say, I was truly shocked at how I found the baby. It was laying in a crib... made from human bodies... The more I looked the more features I recognized. Everyone I ever loved, was a part of the crib. They're bodies distorted and bending in ways they weren't meant to be bending. all four faces used as legs for the crib... pieces of skin and eyes missing. The arms and legs were used to keep the baby inside the crib and they're torso's sewn together for the mattress. (So again I say, "And they call me the psychopath?" I fell to the ground gasping for air as tears ran down my pale cheeks. The screaming baby brought me back to reality. I looked up at the walls and I seen writing. Words I could barely see through the tears. It was a nursery rhyme... written in blood. I slowly caught my breath, and stood up. When I finally looked at the baby. Nothing could have prepared me for what I seen. The baby wasn't a baby at all. It was only the remains of an innocent soul. One that was tortured and tormented, worse than I ever thought was possible. I couldn't tell you exactly what happened to it. But It's face had one of my sister's eyes, and the other from my mother. My brother's lips were attached where the baby's mouth was. Grown adult body parts on an infant will haunt my dreams for as long as I live. The more I looked the more feature's of my family we're no longer there's. How had the baby survived this? Every time I close my eyes it's all I see. But of course, the police bust in right in that moment. The neighbors heard the crashing and banging I would imagine. They seen me in the room and that's all they needed. I'm guessing they seen the body in the hallway. They walked slowly to me, and told me to lay down on the floor. I didn't have the energy to fight back. So I done as they said. So now I'm here. In the Psych ward. I mean what could I say? I did kill two people. I tried to explain the truth, But they didn't care. I mean who would really believe someone like me anyway? After all I am lying again. Man, this is just too easy. If you really want to know the truth, come here... Let me whisper it to you.