Page 28 of Deranged and Obsessed Omnibus: Vol 1

Everything I did was always strategic.

I’d spent the last year with scenarios running through my mind, each one bloodier than the last. I needed a reason to be moved, transferred to where I was forced out of this prison’s walls. It was risky. They could have just kept me in solitary. But it was a risk I’d been willing to take.

The guards led me down the corridor to the exit where the bus waited.

Everyone I passed knew to avoid my gaze—like prey instinctively sensing a predator. And I took pleasure in their fear, knowing that I was the one causing their terror. It was a fucking aphrodisiac.

When the exit door pushed open, the sun hit my face. I squinted, unaccustomed to being outside. I was in solitary more times than not.

The transport bus was a fucking beast’s cage of reinforced steel made to contain monsters specifically like me.

There were a few other prisoners being loaded in, and when it was my turn, I climbed the four steps to get onto the bus. They tried to lead me to one of the first seats, but I used my strengthto power through the aisle until I was in the very back. Where the emergency exit was.

They didn’t give me shit about it and instead stayed silent while they locked my chains to the floor. I leaned back, testing the strength of my bonds, and kept my smile to myself, as my plan was coming to fruition.

After they made sure everything was secure, the bus’s engine roared to life a second before pulling forward. They thought I was restricted and broken. None of these fuckers understood that not even reinforced steel could contain the type of monster I was.

Before I’d been diagnosed, I always had people watching me, looking at me like they expected me to be the killer I turned out to be.

And after they found me standing over my high school bully’s bloody corpse, I’d been analyzed and picked apart by doctors who thought I was their personal lab rat. They couldn’t understand how a child could be so brutal and savage in the way I had been. They wanted to know what I was, and they finally found the right word to describe me.

Psychopath.

And when they realized what I was and could label me, I’d seen the satisfaction on their faces. Being able to put me in a box meant they had some kind of control over the situation, over me.

I’d been a slide under their microscope. They’d studied my brain scans, written reports on my lack of empathy, and awed by how I answered that I felt no regret over what I did.

Now, I finally allowed my smile to spread across my face and let out a low chuckle. The guard sitting beside me eyed me hesitantly and shifted on his seat, his hand instinctively going to his weapon.

My imminent escape was a violent promise to society. They thought they could lock me up and throw away the key. It hadbeen too long since I felt the rush and pleasure of a kill, one I truly felt the urge to commit and not as part of an escape plan. But soon enough, I’d find my next victim. I’d get that adrenaline rush that only came when I was in complete control and watching life fade from someone’s eyes.

Everyone thought they were safe. The world thought they could cage me. How wrong they were.

They had no idea the violence I was about to unleash.

And I couldn’t fucking wait to show them.

Chapter Two

Kane

The bus rattled over cracked asphalt, and I let the steady roar of the engine lull me into a sense of calmness. I hadn’t moved since I sat down, and it wasn’t because of my chains.

I could feel the eyes of the guards boring into me, even if I didn’t look at them. They were uneasy, their instincts telling them they needed to be wary. I kept my head down but lifted my eyes so I could make sure they were in the same places they’d been at the start of the trip.

There were four guards—two in the front, one in the center, and another in the row across from me. I knew their guns were at the ready, and the men themselves were no doubt convinced their weapons would be enough to stop the veritable monster I was.

I felt my lips curl into a smile. These motherfuckers had no idea.

The first half-hour of the trip was uneventful. I kept my focus on the terrain outside, watching the stretches of empty highway turn into more country, which surrounded the bus with dense forest.

Now, we were hours into the ride, and I intermittently watched the guards, taking note that they were tense and on alert. I made sure I looked unthreatening and subdued, but beneath that faux appearance, every part of me was alive like a predator getting ready to hunt.

As we entered a section of winding roads, I knew I’d have to make my move soon. They’d stop for gas in another ten minutes, if my calculations were right, but as if fate—or maybe the verydevil himself—willed it so, a tire blew out with a near-deafening pop.

The bus lurched violently, skidding across the pavement as the driver tried to control the massive vehicle. The driver cursed, wrestling with the wheel, and then the bus slammed to a stop on the shoulder, the sound of gravel spitting up in a violent spray audible through the thick metal surrounding us.

The other prisoners lurched back and forth in their seats, chains rattling from the chaotic motion. I sat still and silent and just watched.

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