Tasting Insanity

Chapter 1

A/N

So, this is a new story of mine. One that i hope you will like. It's a dark story with disturbing scenes which might affect some of you so if you have a problem with violence, this story is not for you. You might as well consider leaving.

I don't have much to say only, just keep your rude comments to yourselves because i don't mind them. All you'll be doing is wasting time by writing offensive shit in my comment section only to feel important and for attention when I don't give a fuck about them rude comments. (I apologize for the language. This is not meant to offense those who never once offended me.)

I appreciate the readers and please, refrain yourselves from spoiling the book for others. Do comment positive things regarding the book- something else I appreciate.

So, yeah. Thank you for reading this new story. I'll post updates on my instagram regarding the book etc. I hope you'll enjoy it and bear with me. I will try to update as much as i can.

Plagiarism will not be tolerated.

There will be character developments throughout the story.

Thank you.

One more thing....

To those who have a thing for psychopaths, this book is for you.

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Chapter 1.

Amaryllis

You know the light people speak of that they see when they are about to die? Turns out, it's pretty much a lie. All i was seeing was dark. Pitch black and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything. I just hoped that he would let go, release me but he didn't.

When I felt like this was my last moment on this earth, I was yanked out of the water. I gasped for breath the second I fell on the ground- still weak nonetheless. His tall dark figure towered over my trembling and weak one as I tried to back away as much as I could but the cold hard wall reminded me that I had nowhere else to run.

"Please stop." I said. I could barely hear my own voice. I wanted to scream, to cry but that would only make him angrier. I had to stay quiet and bear whatever he was going to do to me until he felt like stopping. And besides, crying made me seem weak and I was not weak. That was what I told myself anyway.

"Look at you," He spat, taking long steps towards me, "So weak and pathetic. Just like your fucking mother."

He was wrong. So wrong. My mother was anything but weak and pathetic. She was the strongest person I knew, struggling with two jobs to put food on our table, clothes on our body, a roof on our head and it wasn't easy with an alcoholic and drug addict for a husband. My father, the man who was currently trying to kill me- only attempting to kill me; something he has been doing since she died when I was ten. She was diagnosed with cancer and it slowly ate her up, destroyed her eventually until I had to bury her, alone.

Staying quiet was the best way to avoid further beating from my father so I did. I stayed quiet until he came so close to me that I could smell the disgusting taste of alcohol on his breath as he spat out yet another lie. "A whore. Your mother was a whore. You are one too."

I tried to look away from him but his hand immediately found its way on my face, turning it to face him. "How much money do you have?" Not receiving an answer from me, he asked again, tightening his grip on my face. "How much money do you fucking have?"

I was a psychiatrist. Funny, I know. I got fired last week because I called in sick almost everyday thanks to my father. After my mother died, I knew I was all that i had left. I couldn't count on my father to feed me or look after me. I studied, studied a lot and got good grades despite my situation at home but my father ruined my hard work. I started working in a diner last week, earning very little. I didn't make much and all I made, he took and wasted on his drugs and bottles.

"Not much." I answered, not meeting his gaze. "I gave you everything i had last month." Lies. "You used it all?"

"Yes. I was thirsty." He chuckled, "Give me what you have."

"I have only 30 dollars on me right now." I removed the amount of money and handed it over to him with shaking hands. He rolled his eyes, "Useless bitch. Just like your mother."

I wanted to tell him to shut up. He didn't know my mother as much as i did. His drug and alcohol problem blinded him, clouded his judgement but i knew speaking in this case would be worse. I was scared of my father. He was a dangerous man. A heartless man. My mother assured me he was not always like this but I didn't care. This was the version I have been seeing of him since I was born. For me, he will always be an abusive heartless asshole of a man.

"Get up and make dinner." He snarled, "I am going out. When I come back, I should be served dinner." He looked at me, "And if I am not served, you'll see the worst side of me."

"O...kay." I choked out, still having trouble breathing after he plunged me in a tank of water. When he left, I stood up, leaning against the wall for support before going to my room. It was four thirty-five in the afternoon and knowing my father, he would be back at around six so I had time before preparing dinner. I was going to step in the bathroom when my phone started ringing on the bed. I glanced at the caller ID and immediately answered when I saw it was my boss. Ex boss.

"Amaryllis," His deep voice spoke with so much confidence, "I have a job for you and if you accept, you'll get triple the amount I used to give you."

My heart started beating out of excitement in my chest at hearing those words. "You'll give me my job back?"

"Kind of." He sounded unsure, "It's your job, yes, as a psychiatrist." He paused, "But different."

"How different?", my brows furrowed in confusion as I waited for him to continue. After a long minute of silence, he spoke, "You will have to have weekly- three times a day, therapy sessions with a man named Carter Hale...", he sighed, "In prison."

"What was he accused of?", I asked, not really wanting to know the answer to this question. I hoped that he was accused of theft, felony but no. My boss's answer made me almost reject the offer but this job was too valuable for me. A chance at freedom. Freedom from my father, from this life. "Murder."