The Devil's Daughter

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
Born in an orphanage, Caroline had to deal with the worst of relations amongst other kids. Taken to a super clinic later at older age because of her psychosis, a set of psychologists consider what’s best: to send her to college as a course of her therapy, where Caroline figures out a new life that helps evolve her insanity and later goes on through events of such a young girl may never try.

Submitted: October 14, 2018

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Submitted: October 14, 2018

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Carol is a pretty girl. She’s nineteen years old but looks seventeen. She’s sitting on the chair, no senses in her face. Just impatient. The color of the room is a chilling indigo. Gentle sound of the fountain on the wall drives away the stress and anxiety. Yet she cannot fill into the mood. She wants to go back to her room. These visages have grown pointless.

 

"Carol?" The doctor takes her attention back.

 

"Yes." She casts her eyes forward.

 

"Are you listening?"

 

"Yes, I am listening."

 

"I asked you a question."

 

She can’t recall hearing any. "Sorry. I missed it."

 

"Why do you have to kill them?"

 

There’s a short mix, then she answers. "I don’t. I just can’t stop."

 

"Why? You know it’ll lead you to kill them, don’t you?"

 

"Yes, I know."

 

"But you can’t hold it?"

 

"No."

 

"What makes you go rough? Do you feel anything besides the pleasure, ecstasy? Something like hatred, anger, or anguish?"

 

"I feel crazy. I can’t name it. It’s weird."

 

"Does it hurt?"

 

"Sometimes."

 

"How often do you lose control?"

 

"Always."

 

"Do they hurt you?"

 

"No, I hurt them."

 

"You’re the dominator."

 

"Always."

 

"Have you ever let them take the lead on you, ever wanted to be submissive?"

 

"I can’t. It doesn’t let me."

 

"What is that, Carol?"

 

"That damn feeling. It overtakes me. Like a shock that suddenly creeps from my brain to my toes. I need to be on top. I can’t let them have it." She gets tired of looking at the doctor, so sets her eyes down. "I hate men. They’re so hard. But when I see a softie I can’t help getting around them. I try to stalk virgins, at least those that haven’t done it before. They are fragile to pain and scream a lot. It turns me on. I like to see them in agony, I like to hear them cry when they’re agonizing in the pain I’m causing their beautiful bodies."

 

"Do you actually torture them? Are you into seeing blood? Can you describe me your feeling in a word or two?"

 

"You know that I’m sadistic."

 

She looks away. She doesn’t want to continue. Doctor checks out some case files. The sound of turning pages stresses her out.

 

"Lara Sanders, your last sex partner..."

 

"Victim! Last victim!" Her eyes get wet as she hears the name. A painful reminder. Something to forget not to remember. "Why are you trying to numerate me as a patient? I’m a killer."

 

"Listen Carol..."

 

"I don’t wanna listen to you." She yells out. "I’ve been examined by ten doctors through several fucking therapies. Nothing’s changed. I’m still into hurting girls for my own pleasure and I can’t stop killing them, just because I’m a psychopath."

 

Tears fill her eyes. The last of her words were cries. She calms down a little, sniffs and wipes that tear that streams down.

 

"Lara was just sixteen." She continues with a soft voice. "I didn’t kill an innocent girl, I hurt the entire family who adopted me. People look at me with pity. I’m a monster."

 

"It doesn’t matter what people think, Carol. You’re mentally sick. It’s not your fault that your nature is set out this way."

 

"So you’re saying that it’s ok to kill people just because you’re sick?"

 

"No. That was not my point. It’s not a crime or madness. It’s a psychosis, and we’re doing our best to find you a cure."

 

"What will be the good of it with the increasing of pictures in my case?"

 

"It won’t get there. You will be ok."

 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Liar-A. All rights reserved.

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