Chapter I 

Self-conscious Memoir of A High-Functioning Sociopath

This may not be the right moment to think, but my lord, I am in a lot of pain. The sheer pain in my body feels like I descended from heaven. But we all know, judging by my past deeds, there might be more chance of the devil throwing me from hell rather than the concept of heaven. But hear me out for a moment; you might think otherwise, but I am not a monster. I am merely a man who is misrepresented by our cruel society. And while we are talking about society, I say, to hell with them. They branded me as a psychopath. Pathetic humans. I am a high functioning sociopath, but will society ever get that?

Since the first time I was introduced to this so-called society, I have been waiting to get out of it. I had a perfect plan to escape from there. A plan that would be harmless to others and beneficial for me. Would you like to hear the plan? Even if not, here it is. I would work diligently for a few years and purchase a home in the outskirts of a county, with a view of either a forest or a lake. However, houses with views of hills tend to be more affordable, and if you know me, you know how much I dislike cold regions. Therefore, I would have to work diligently for a few more years. I always desired to be the person who has someone for every task, like my own personal butler, but instead, I would pay them per job rather than a monthly salary. It’s purely economic, you know.

For me, this society had different plans. Every crooked eye or twisted lip was determined to trample me as a potential serial killer. I always imagined that if I were in the US, they would never allow me a gun license. But here we are, in a peaceful country like Nepal, where guns are more expensive than cars. I mean, they tried to brand me as a suicide bomber, but if they knew me for more than five minutes, they would realize that I would never waste my life on such a silly stunt.

But here I am, lying in a hospital bed, in a psychiatric ward, with my hands and legs tied down. Well, I was never a person of physical means, so it doesn’t matter much to me for now. However, the thing they’ve used to tie me down looks like it’s made from synthetic or fake leather and it itches a lot. Plus, with all these days I have spent in this unholy body, I feel like my kidney is going to make the ward boy clean the floor quite often. God, I hope they clean it regularly because with my kidney problems, they’re going to be the patient if they keep smelling it.

I am downplaying the game compared to my other ward mates. I haven’t seen them yet, but I think they are real nutjobs. I can hear some screaming so loud that sometimes I think it is coming from my own head. Oh wait! It actually is. I should shut up now. Should I act like I am enjoying the bondage moment? Nah, never liked it with my wife, won’t like it with these strangers. I shall enjoy the new reboot of Doctor Who in my mind. Playing a total of 160+ episodes and I will be done in like what? 30 minutes. That’s not going to make my life any better, but at least I can rewind my adulthood.

I think we should negotiate, I mean, me with these doctors or whatever the monsters are within the masks. Don’t you think so? I shall give them consent to map my brain. Maybe the doctor next door, who does my brain mapping, shall win the next Nobel Prize in medicine, physiology, or chemistry. It depends on how he or she plays the game. I only bring this up because if they start without my consent, they might not get the perfect result, as I will definitely be screaming. Now, you are probably thinking, why in this atheistic world would someone try to map my brain? Well, when I told you that I was a highly functioning sociopath, I kinda downplayed it. I am definitely a highly functioning sociopath, but with an IQ of 193. This is not the highest in the world, but what are you even expecting here? You only get 193 from a person who is tied to a bed with nurses around, and not in a fun way.

I feel like you’re bored, so let me entertain you with this interesting mini-story. The moment I woke up this morning; or afternoon, I’m not sure. What can I say? I have been inside this room under LED lights without the concept of time and date. Damn it, I am not even sure about the date. The last I remember, I had a few weeks left to reach 50. I was about to have the most lavish party of my life because I never thought I would make it this far in life. When I was born, I was the smallest child people had ever seen. Technically, I wasn’t the smallest person to be born in the world; Guinness World Records shall confirm that, but what had those people seen besides their own family? So, I was labeled a dwarf, although I never turned out to be one. Then, they started calling me dumb because I didn’t speak for the first five years of my life. They didn’t even think about calling me mute, which is still offensive but at a lower level.

I remember one day when I saw a group of my neighbors sitting together on my balcony, congratulating my mother on me being able to live my entire adult life on disability checks from the government. Like, your husband has been unemployed since I was born, what about that, madam? I really wanted to say that to her face, but damn my physical difficulties. Newsflash, I told them that later. Although it was twenty years late, and I felt bad for their situation, I still got a chance to take my revenge. Anyway, back to me being mute. So, I finally spoke after five years, and not the cheesy kind kids do at the beginning of their life. I started with perfect sentences and phrases. Compared to the kids who speak early, I was ahead. About a week after that, I saw the same woman telling my family that disability benefits were not in my fate. That was the moment, at the age of five, I was fed up with this society, and this was my first step to retreat to this bed.

I think I have told you too much of sad and depressing stuff, still lots to cover. To comprehend all these bullshit, I have a supermind, but you don’t. So, now let’s slide into some good thinking, something I am glad of in my life. I know this might sound cliché, but I am very glad that I did not have any siblings (technically, we will come to that later). Imagine what example I would have set for them. My cousins, whom we consider our siblings here (we came here later), looked at me like I am some sort of outcast. More like an untouchable, who might infect them with my condition. But you idiots, if it were transferrable, you would have transferred my intelligence; anyways it’s your loss. I am also glad that I never had any children. Imagine a combination of my personality mixed with the ungodly traits of my wife. Sorry, my ex-wife, for legal purposes, let’s say that going forwards.

Wow, this pain is killing me, I mean, literally. Shall I have some me time and close my eyes, please? Who am I kidding? Why would I even require your permission? I am merely making you a relevant part of this story, so now let me have some time off and sleep. I shall be back, probably with lesser pain than I am having right now. If not, I will be gone again for some time, this time to shout and scream in agony and play for some time with the wardboy. They will inject me with something to sleep, and then I will actually be back with a fresh mind to bore you bunch again.