American Psycho by Carolyn Glass

Amoral

Mercurial

Erudite

Reprobate

Insolent

Charming

Arrogant

Narcissistic

Profligate

Salacious

Yuppie

Carnal

Hedonistic

Overwrought

Yes, that was a good summing up of his prospective business partner, just like every other New Yorker he had had the misfortune to meet this week.

American Psycho by Lesley Whyte

The thing you have to understand about me is that I'm a good guy. I am. You've probably heard all sorts of things, terrible things, but you don't understand. I can explain everything. Every single thing you've heard, I have an explanation.

A perfectly simple, perfectly innocent explanation.

Penelope is a liar. She's lying about me. I don't know why. Why would she say such awful things about me? Why? I don't understand. I never did anything to her, you have to believe me when I say that. I knew her, of course, everyone knows Penelope, but I didn't do anything to her. We had a couple of drinks. It's not a crime to buy a pretty girl a couple of drinks, is it?

I didn't think so.

We flirted a little, perfectly innocent, though I could tell she wanted more. I suppose I was happy to oblige. So sue me. She was pretty and flirty and unattached, as far as I knew. She didn't have a boyfriend, I didn't...well, my own personal situation is beside the point. It is not a crime to go home with a pretty girl. It is not a crime to buy her a couple of drinks, it's not a crime to find her attractive and it's not a crime to want to go home with her. It's not a crime to go home with her.

Penelope's a liar.

We dated. I can prove that. Ask anyone that knows me. She was my girlfriend. My girlfriend. And yes, all right, she did end things with me and I did not take it well, but I didn't hurt her. I didn't harm her in any way. I haven't even seen her since that night in the restaurant. I go past her house sometimes, yes, but it's on my way home from my favourite bar.

What am I supposed to do? Drive home instead? I can't help it if I walk slow when I've been drinking, that sometimes I linger outside her door and think about how much I miss her. But to accuse me of stalking her, of harrassing her is crazy.

I mean, yes, there was that incident with the brick and the window, but as I told the police at the time, that wasn't me. I just happened to be there when that homeless man threw it. I chased after him, for Christ's sake! I tried to catch him so he could be brought to justice! And instead she accuses me of the most awful things, the most awful. We were dating, I was in love with her.

I still am.

I can't believe she would accuse me of trying to harm her, of frightening her. A restraining order is completely unnecessary. I'll find another bar if necessary, just to placate her, but really, I'm not a danger. Not to Penelope or any other woman. I'm worried about her. I'm afraid...well, I'm afraid that this is all in her head. I'm afraid that she's not well. All I want is for her to be well. I'd never harm her. Never.

American Psycho by Nick Trussler

…and she knew when she saw him that he was different and she knew she would end up back at his place but she realised she didn’t care. She enjoyed the hunt. And he came over, as she knew he would, and he gave the same story as everyone else and asked the same questions and she replied like all the other girls did and laughed at his teasing which, when she really thought about it, wasn’t funny at all and a very easy thing to do but it made him look clever and made him feel confident and was supposed to make her feel insecure so she let him think she was, for that was how the game worked. And so the inevitable happened and he leaned in for a drunken kiss and his mouth tasted bitter because of the beer but she tried to ignore it and they continued like this for some time until he whispered in her ear, slurring, to go back to his dorm and she agreed and then the hunt truly began. And she followed him back like a shy and nervous freshman, who had had too much to drink and a long distance boyfriend, should follow a confident and drunk senior and she entered his room and there were socks and boxers littered on the floor and there was an unusual aroma of processed cheese in the air. And he pushed her down on the bed and pulled down his jeans and she gave it a few tugs and he murmured something about the alcohol so she put it in her mouth and it soon became hard and it tasted salty which was a better taste in her mouth than his tongue. And after her jaw had become sore and he had grabbed and pulled at her hair she pushed him gently onto the bed and pulled down her panties and took off her top and bra and climbed onto him and he grabbed and slapped at her ass and she pretended to be lost in ecstasy and her hands ran over his chest and then rested on a pair of scissors on his bedside table and she wondered why he kept them there and then looked down and realised he trimmed his pubes and she couldn’t help but laugh to herself and he laughed too and called her a bitch and she carried on laughing and didn’t stop even when she had picked the scissors up and plunged it into his chest and stomach, her hand rising and falling with each thrust she gave him and though he screamed and tried to get her off him she pinned him down with her thighs and carried on laughing and with each fresh spray of blood that covered her bare breasts and body her orgasm grew and before she climaxed she slit his throat open and finished as the cloud of blood that had erupted from this last cut fell down onto his body and through into the soaked bed sheets beneath them.

Day Four

And today's prompt is...

American Psycho