Psychopaths aren't born, they're bred. Bred by the very people who gave them life. They can be bred physically, in the case of the mother who beats her son for no reason. Or emotionally, in the case of the father who tells his daughter she's not good enough. Both happen just as easily, just as quickly, and both are equally damaging. To you, to society, but most importantly, to themselves.

   These are the thoughts that ran through her head as she stared over the city, the wind blowing the loose locks of hair around her head, tugging at her hoodie. She could hear her heart beating, feel her hands trembling, taste the blood in the air, smell the cold metal of the knife in her hand. She felt the bloody knife slip from her fingers, but didn't hear it hit the ground. She couldn't help but smiled as she closed her eyes, before taking the small step, the one that would send her hurtling toward the ground, eighteen stories below, with one final thought running through her mind.

   I'm finally free.

The End

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