AN: First Person Point of View.
They died. One bye one. I killed them. All but one. They thought I was insane. They all did. They suggested therapy. I refused. They suggested counseling. It's the same thing. I refused again. I'm perfect, I don't need help. They didn't believe it. They forced me into an asylum. I got out.
The first one to suggest I needed such a thing was that cheesy one that shot me when I met him. He thought I was insane when he rescued me. He thought I was dangerous. He had a right to. He called me unsociable. He thought I was scarred. He thought my mentor had scarred me. He knew nothing. He was the first to go.
I found him when I got out. I tracked him down. He was on his home colony. He was surrounded by piles of junk, as usual. He made it too easy to make it look like an accident. I didn't even need a gun. One pipe was all it took. The pipe was sharp and rusted. Perfect to impale him with.
I came from behind him. I pulled the pipe from the pile. It didn't phase him. He didn't notice the sound. I took my time coming up from behind him. About a step from him he heard me. That didn't bother me. I attempted to make a stab at the back of his neck. He turned around too quickly for the pipe to make contact. That didn't surprise me. I turned and kicking his legs out from under him. He fell onto the heap of scrap. A few of the sharp pieces dug into his back. I quickly thrusted the pipe into his neck. His blood spewed out covering the scrap beneath him. So, I didn't make it look like an accident. It doesn't matter. There were no witnesses.
The rich one that I trusted to lead the others was the first to be convinced by that cheesy fool. He found a willing therapist to 'help with my problems.' I don't want to know how he found a therapist to agree to that. He tried to use his resources to find the 'best help.' He did the most damage with his resources. He was target number two.
I came for him after I disposed of my first 'friend.' He was in his office, as usual. His tea wasn't hard to poison. A little bit of ground glass in the tea was enough to make his suffering begin. True, it would be easy to see, but he was too trusting to notice. He began to cough up blood and try to drink more the tea. It only mad it worse. The more glass swallowed, the more his suffering was increased. I came in the room and his eyes widened as the blood trickled down his chin. I took my time walking toward him as he pressed a button for security. They wouldn't come. I had already disposed of them. I decided that I didn't have time to watch him suffer. I pulled out a simple hand gun and shot him in the front of the jaw. The bullet went through his jawbone and out the back of his throat. The blood splatter on the wall. It was an interesting shape. I didn't stay long. I left his body for the authorities to find.
The other two 'friends' were the next ones to betray me. They were easily convinced by the rich one. They eventually found a way to capture me and take me to the asylum against my will. The way I disposed of them was simple. Attacking one with his own sword and rigging the tight rope for the other. I'd rather not go into detail for them.
The final one to be convinced was one I never thought would turn on me. She tried to convince me it was what was best. She tried her soft and reasonable tactics. Her sweet voice almost convinced me many times. Many times I thought she was right, but then changed back to my normal state. She surprised me when she let them put me in the asylum. I came for her last.
She was in her room preparing for a night of rest. She had brushed her hair to perfection. I stalked into her room silently. She didn't notice me until she heard the click of the of the gun chamber loading. She turned around and looked at me with her enchanting eyes. They were wide and scared. I could tell I caused the fear in her eyes. I was set having revenge for being sent to the asylum. Her eyes entranced me. She spoke my name in a shaky voice. I saw my arm quiver and shake while it had the gun aimed at her. I was beginning to question myself. Another look into her eyes and I knew I was wrong. I couldn't kill her. I wouldn't kill her. I removed the gun from its original target. My arm moved and found a new target. I would make sure I could never harm her. I pulled the trigger.
Now, I sit here, flames licking at what's left of my flesh. Her face still haunts me. So scared, so innocent. I could never hurt that face. I'm paying the price for thinking of hurting that face. I killed them all but her. Her eyes kept me from killing her. So now I sit here with the flames eating my flesh, paying for what I've done. I cannot see my 'friends' here. They must have been right if they're not here avenging themselves. I was insane. I did need the therapy. I know that now. Although, it is a bit too late for that. I get to sit here in the flames until my bones are incinerated. I can see my flesh begin to melt. I must admit, it does hurt a lot. I guess I am human after all. No one is perfect. I realize this now.
AN: So how was it? Flames are welcome and expected. Tell me who the insane person is.