Patrick Bateman, despite being only 17, is a very materialistic and cold child, which is no surprise considering that his wealthy mother gives him all he desires from her earnings as a dressmaker for the nobility of the nearby village and due to her strenuous work, pays him little attention. His brown eyes would not show any signs of an actual person if you were to gaze into them, rather reveal an empty husk of human being. But despite the husk of a human Patrick was, he liked to play up a facade that he was rather intelligent but no one around him particularly payed him much attention, except his step-sister Evelyn, who would pine after him and whine constantly, which made his headache from all the noise pollution she caused with her torturous cries of "Patrick!". But, Patrick didn't let his desire to use Evelyn's father's axe to remove her head from her torso get the best of him but rather, he took it out on nearby rodents and animals and sometimes store them for later purposes. Despite the annoyances of his desperate stepsister, Patrick was content with his life.
That was until unknowingly, his stepfather had become convinced that Patrick was nothing but a terrible weight on this family and that he cost his mother too much money, just as Evelyn cost his stepfather too much money and thus, his stepfather convinced Patrick's mother to take the little brats into the woods and leave them there to die, causing them to become richer without the burden of snobby children. Thus the next night, when the sky was as black as ink and the moon was covered by clouds, much to Patrick's annoyance, he and Evelyn had been awaken by his mother who held a single lantern in her hand and she spoke to them.
"Children, you have to come with me at once, I have important business to attend to and I require your help." Patrick's mother told them, her voice cold and stern and Patrick scoffed, rolling her eyes and then snapping at her in reply.
"At this hour? In these imported silk robes you bought me? Don't be preposterous, I'm going back to sleep and I do not.." He paused, trying to remain composed and collected before finishing his sentence "..want to be disturbed." With a huff, he laid his head back down on his finely made pillow filled with the softest of goose feathers that he had goaded his mother into purchasing. He would have remained there without another word, falling back into deep slumber, if it was not for Evelyn's whining that had begun, her snivelling, obnoxious voice penetrating his sensitive ears and he sat up, his body springing back to life with rage.
"Patrick" She whined, dragging his name out of her mouth as though she was aware that the longer she said his name, the more infuriated he became "If I have to go, you have to come too, you can't just stay here while I go by myself it's embarrassing for someone of my status Patrick!" Her entitled voice moaned, despite being only a year younger then him, Evelyn was very aware of her privileged lifestyle and kept up a facade as much as Patrick himself, only one facade was to keep up how amazing they were and the other to hide a monstrous lust for murder.
"Fine! If it will put a stop to your obnoxious crying Evelyn, I will go but if I hear another word, I will snap your arms and then your legs like the twigs we'll be walking over in that godforsaken forest and then after that, your neck!" He snapped, standing up as his tall body shook with rage, infuriated by her unpleasant personality. But Evelyn stared back at him with a blank, doe eyed expression as she ran her fingers through her neatly curled blonde locks. Patrick looked at her and his mother, waiting for a reply to his threat of murder but unsurprised that his mother ignored him and Evelyn acted oblivious. His mother was packing another lantern into her basket for when she would abandon them in the dark and treacherous woods, free of the brats at last.
"Oh my goodness Patrick, I absolutely agree, twigs are the absolute worst, especially when you're walking in custom heels made by the finest shoemakers." She complained, an ignorant smile on her face and Patrick forced a smile onto his face, trying to keep the facade that he was a normal 17 year old. With the light of the lit candle beside his bed, he looked in the reflection of his bedside mirror and combed his brunette locks, smiling at how even at this ungodly hour, he looked amazing in these silk robes. His mother turned to both Evelyn and Patrick, her face stern and to Patrick's disgust, old looking with all the creases and wrinkles on her face. But Patrick maintained his skin with special concoctions made by the best apothecary within the regions and she told them it was time for them to leave but Evelyn begin to whine once more.
"I'm hungry and I cannot leave if I'm hungry, if I don't eat my plans to fit into the new dress you're making me will be ruined!" Evelyn cried, her blue eyes emphasising the pathetic distress she felt and Patrick imagined if that would be the same look in her eyes if he slit her throat open with a dagger. His mother scoffed and without a word, threw her a baguette and Evelyn only just managed to catch it, her nails sinking into the french loaf of bread, the baguette making a crunching noise as Evelyn sunk her even white teeth into it. Although Patrick noticed one tooth of hers was slightly crooked, an imperfection he found rather unappealing. It was then that his mother told them it was time for them to leave and with Patrick's forced smile and Evelyn's whines of looking improper, they followed his mother out of their house and into the dark night with no moon or stars insight in the large and open sky, the only way that they could see anything was by following the light of his mother's light.
As they walked through the forest, Evelyn left a trail of breadcrumbs as she picked off the pieces of the baguette that looked burnt in her opinion which Patrick found rather annoying and pointless as baguettes were not even the best bread the French had to offer. Personally, he preferred Pain a l'Ail, as it was much better in taste and had flavour, something the baguette lacked in his uncultured opinion on French breads. Evelyn though, unknowingly left a trail of baguette crumbs behind them as they ventured further into the depths of the forest. They walked through trees that towered above them like tall and silent wooden guardians. Patrick wondered if their branches were thick enough to support multiple bodies being hung on them and just as he was about to question how he would get the bodies up that high, his mother came to a stop, not noticing that he had no idea where in the forest they even were.
"Stay there children. I'll be back in a moment." After she uttered those words, Patrick Bateman's mother put her cloak over her and began walking back toward the house, Patrick and Evelyn taking no notice until they could no longer see the light and they were left in the pitch black night, Evelyn leaping into Patrick's arms, as she had heard unintelligible growls nearby in the large and threatening forest, which was much to Patrick's dismay as he would much rather be hugging her lifeless corpse then her living self. He struggled to find a way to separate himself from the insufferable blonde, her arms now wrapped around his chest with a grip that could rival a python trying to crush it's victim but he squirmed his way out of her arms and stepped away from his stepsister. She squealed in annoyance, sticking her nose up in the air as she stomped her foot down onto the ground, leaves crackling underneath it, causing Patrick to wonder what her breaking her foot with a hammer would sound like.
"Patrick what are we going to do? Your stupid mother left us here! Now we're stuck in this stupid forest! My father would never let this happen!" She complained loudly, frowning at Patrick as she scrunched up her nose with anger and he rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to think of a way to get back to their home, now becoming infuriated by not only his mother's abandonment of him but the fact he was abandoned with Evelyn of all people. He leaned against the tree, not wanting to look like a fool fumbling around in the forest due to the dark, he remained still, his thoughts wandering from returning home to returning home free of Evelyn and a wicked, psychotic smile that she was unaware of, formed on Patrick's face.
"Patrick! Do something! I am not going to be stuck in this forest forever. Courtney and I are trying on new dresses tomorrow." She whinged, stomping her foot on the ground once more, messing up her near curls. Courtney was Evelyn’s best friend and Patrick had also been fucking her senseless for the past year, despite the fact that she was betrothed to Luis Carruthers, although everyone rumoured that he was a sinner, a homosexual. Patrick frowned, hitting the tree he was leaning against with his fist as he stared at what he could see if Evelyn in the dark as she began to munch on her baguette some more out of nervousness. He couldn't see anything and he couldn't think straight either because Evelyn was driving him insane.
"Patrick do something already!" Evelyn moaned, her mouth full of baguette as she stamped her foot again and Patrick spun away from the tree, looking at what he could see of Evelyn, narrowing his eyes at her as he curled his lips back. He wanted to kill her so desperately, see her lifeless body limp in front of him, neck hanging loosely from her torso and a bruised and bloody face and body. But instead she continued stuffing her irritating face with bread as she frowned at Patrick. Patrick couldn’t kill her though, he could barely see his surroundings, let alone anything to use as a weapon or the best place to wrap his hands around her thin neck. Patrick let out an irritated sigh, deciding that he would have to wait until the morning when he could see and kill her then. So, with that conclusion, Patrick told Evelyn that they would have to sleep in the forest and find their way back in the morning and despite Evelyn’s loud complaints, they eventually settled by the tree and fell asleep a few inches apart, a distance between them that Patrick made sure of.
They both awoke to the cawing of crows, followed by a much harsher sound, Evelyn’s whines of being awake at such a terribly early hour of the morning. Patrick rolled his eyes, now that it was daytime, rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves above, showing the forest floor covered in stones, twigs, moss and dead leaves and then, something that he could have sworn was not there in the brief moments he could see the night before, a candy house. It’s walls made of gingerbread and decorated with icing and sweets. Patrick was fascinated by the sight before him, he came to the conclusion that whoever lived there must be quite rich to have such a fine collection of sweets to turn such candies into their home. Evelyn quickly noticed the candy house too, her blue eyes widening at the house that was laid before them. Evelyn turned to Patrick, going to question him about the house and her eyes lighting up with curiosity.
“Patrick! Look at this absolutely quaint little candy house, they must be some sort of private candymaker, don’t you agree?” She questioned him, her blonde hair bouncing with every movement of her round head, causing Patrick’s mind to drift to thoughts of her round head popping off her neck, scarlet blood spraying everywhere. But, Patrick quickly snapped back to reality and with the discovery of this house, that very likely had a person living there, his plans to kill Evelyn were completely ruined as he felt too exhausted to have to kill a witness as well. But, there was an upside, perhaps they could approach the owner of the house and ask for assistance, offering them the wealth that they had back home. Patrick attempted to dust whatever dirt was on his clothing as tried to neaten his hair, which despite having nothing to use as a mirror, he knew that he would look fantastic as always.
“Let’s get out of this god forsaken forest and see if the “private candymaker” will offer us some assistance and get us back home so my urge to rip your spine from your torso doesn’t overtake me.” Patrick says through gritted teeth as he walks toward the house, Evelyn walking after him, staring at the candy house in fascination as she is completely clueless to Patrick’s continuous threats on her life. Patrick, of course, is beginning to wonder if she’s just not listening to him or he never said those things aloud in the first place. He’s unsure as to which one it is. Patrick knocks on the door of the candy house with a liquorice door knocker and they stand there waiting. After a few minutes, Patrick grows more impatient as no one has opened the door. Evelyn’s eyes flicker to a small chocolate stuck to the door frame and she reaches for it in curiosity, pulling it from where it was stuck and that small area of the gingerbread frame crumbles. As Patrick stands in the frame of the doorway, he watches as Evelyn brings the small chocolate to her lips, plucking it into her mouth and begins to chew. He watches as her blue eyes widen in wonder, turning to him as she swallows.
“Patrick, you have to try this chocolate it is divine!” She cries as she takes another one, closing her eyes and biting her lip as she lets the second chocolate melt in her mouth. Patrick is sceptical, how good could the candy actually be, it could have dirt and all sorts on it, it could be spoiled. Patrick decided he would not try any of the candy house, he was far too superior to eat any sort of sweets that didn’t come straight from a chocolatier or candymaker of the highest caliber. He tried seeing if anyone in this strange candy house was home, banging on the door with the liquorice door knocker once more. Once again, he was greeted with silence and turned his focus back on Evelyn and he was disgusted by the sight of her. It had only been mere seconds since he last looked at her but she was gnawing and clawing at the gingerbread wall, melted chocolate covered more than half of her face and all the way up to her elbows as saliva dribbled out of her open mouth. Her blue eyes were wide and crazed as she made whimpering sounds as she now licked the walls. Patrick in disgust and shock, stepped away from her, his back now against the wall of the door. But as he watched her, Evelyn looking like a deranged mutt, he began to laugh, finding her current state amusing and finding her to look almost delicious.
“You pathetic pig.” He scoffed, looking at Evelyn as he imagined continuously thrusting her chocolate covered face into the gingerbread wall until there was a crack in her skull. But Patrick knew he couldn’t possibly do that to Evelyn, the gingerbread wall would break before he’d even make a dent. Evelyn, her mouth full of gingerbread and chocolate, her cheeks resembling that of a chipmunk, suddenly fainted, falling to the ground. He came to the conclusion that the candy had caused Evelyn to pass out and not be able to resist the house’s treats. He then came to another conclusion, a large, wicked grin formed on Patrick’s face. If no one was home in the candy house and Evelyn was unconscious, he could do every terrible thing he’d wanted to do to her and more. He could finally get rid of Evelyn once and for all or so he thought as just as he was about to go towards her body, a large candy cane smacked him in the face, rendering him unconscious. Patrick awoke dazed and confused, eyes fluttering open as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He quickly noticed that he was in a cage with candy canes for bars and the cage he resided in, was inside the candy house.
The room was decorated similarly as the outside of the house, the icing creating a brick like pattern on the inner gingerbread walls as there was a large oven sitting in the middle of the room, kitchen utensils and partially obscured weapons lined the walls and a table made out of gingerbread and liquorice sat in the middle of the room. Patrick finally saw Evelyn was tied up to this table and he became enraged at the sight before them. How dare they tie her up, all their torture tools laid out and he has to sit in a godforsaken cage and watch? Patrick couldn’t believe that someone else was going to get to do what he had wanted to do all along, the unfairness of the whole situation infuriated him. He had to kill Evelyn, he’d been waiting so long and he would not wait any more. He began to kick at the candy cane bars but instead of breaking them, his legs bounced off the bars as though they were metal, pain coursing through his legs. He nurses his right leg, holding his foot in his hand and suddenly the candy house is filled with croaky cackling and an old woman appears in front of his cage, her face wrinkled, her emerald green eyes crazed as Patrick could see her disgusting, rotting teeth, pieces of hard candies stuck between them.
“You can’t escape this cage, not unless you have the power of a witch and you’re no witch and you can’t kill me either, you must sit and suffer as I slaughter and devour your sister to sustain my power.” She explained to him, her cloak swishing with each hand gesture. Patrick’s entire being bubbled with rage, all that whining he would never get to silence, that annoying face he would never get to cave in, that platinum blonde hair he would never get to tear from her scalp. It was all extremely unfair in Patrick’s mind, he couldn't believe all his patience would be for naught, to watch that insufferable girl be killed by someone else's hands. The witch had turned away from Patrick at this point, humming a song by a group of famous minstrels called Huey Lewis and the News. The particular song was Hip to be Square, one Patrick had made his mother pay to be performed in front of him. A manic smile formed on Patrick’s perfectly sculpted face. It was funny how something as beautiful as a china doll could hide the spawn of Satan within.
“Excuse me but do you like Huey Lewis and the News?” Patrick asked, a mask of politeness hiding his ill intentions, leaning against the bars. The witch turned to him, she stopped sharpening the large butcher knife, looking at the strapping lad within the cage, taut muscles could be seen through newly made holes in Patrick’s imported silk pyjamas. Patrick made note of how she was admiring his sculpted physique, repulsed by her but glad that he held her attention and that the knife in her hand did not. A sly grin danced it's way upon her face, she hadn't had a morsel like him in quite some time and the witch found there was no harm in playing with her food.
“I find them pleasant enough” The witch said as she slowly walked towards the cage, the gingerbread floorboards creaking, which Patrick found odd as gingerbread did not creak to his knowledge. Her wild green eyes stared down at him, waiting to see what her dessert had to say, bony fingers itching to saw off his defined biceps. Patrick then began speaking, the witch quickly being drawn in by his charm. Despite the true sociopath that lie hidden underneath the surface, Patrick knew how to turn on the charm when needed.
“Their early work was a little too King Eric for my taste. But when King William died, I think they really came into their own within the court of King Dominic. The whole group of minstrels has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of servitude that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to the minstrel of old, Elvis Costello, but I think Minstrel Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humor.” While the witch’s deranged eyes were focused on him with fierce intensity, Patrick, although hesitant, started to move his hand through the bars, worried that he would be injured just as before but as he made his way to the floorboard, he passed through the bars with ease and broke off a piece of gingerbread. He took a bite out of curiosity but found it stale and spat it out, the witch in shock but her eyes not leaving him.
“Was that a piece of gingerbread?” The witch questioned, pitch raising as her eyebrows began to furrow but Patrick quickly dove back into his opinion on the group of minstrels, making sure to keep an eye on the bony hand that held the butcher knife.
“Yes, it is. In '87, Huey wrote a collection of melodies entitled; Fore!, their most accomplished works for King Dominic yet. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip To Be Square". A melody so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of serving the King. It's also a personal statement about the minstrels themselves. Hey, hag!” And with that, Patrick Bateman pulled the butcher knife from the witch’s hand, her grip had loosened while she had been caught up in his distraction like a fly within a spider’s web.
Patrick laughed as he stabbed the butcher knife deep into the witch’s skull, the scarlet blood running from the open wound and down Patrick’s arms, he reached his arm toward the witch, letting the blood running from her head spill onto his hands. He laughed maniacally, covering his face in the hag’s blood as he watched the inside of the house transform from candy to rotting wood, his cage soon revealed to be wooden too. He broke through the rotting wood with ease, the witch was dead, there was no magic to hold him. Best of all, she had prepared the little blonde bitch for him on a silver platter, or in this case a wooden table but Patrick would make do.
He looked up at the walls, finally seeing the dead hag’s array of weapons and torture devices in full view, mulling over how to torture and kill Evelyn as he paced up and down, not taking his eyes off the weapons as he continued making plans and decisions. There was so many things he had thought of and planned in his head over the years that now when the time came, he had too many good options to choose from. Just as Patrick was considering the idea of pulling her intestines from her stomach and eating them in front of her while she looked on, the still very much alive Evelyn, began to stir, looking around and spotting her stepbrother, coagulated blood covering his face and splattered on his pyjamas. She started screaming his name, muffled by her gag but he could still hear the shrill voice all the same, piercing his ears.
Patrick sauntered over to Evelyn, looking at her body, looking her up and down, her perky but small breasts could be seen through her lace nightgown, the girl had a body fitting of any other lady of status but she had the personality of an enchanted cow. Patrick, although he did detest her whining, removed her gag, Evelyn gasping loudly as she looked up at her saviour. The girl felt only gratefulness, and a hint of lust one might add, towards her stepbrother, thinking that he was going to untie her and take her back home, her knight in shining armour.
But Patrick was more like the plague then a knight, an unstoppable force with a rapidly rising body count and Evelyn was the next person who would befall ill to him. Patrick smiled at her, it was a gentle smile and Evelyn melted like butter on a hot day at his face. Patrick had yet to utter a word but behind the facade, the foreplay before the main event, he was listing every despicable thing he was going to do her.
“Oh Patrick, that horrible witch was going to eat me! Me! Evelyn Williams of the Bateman-Williams household, why I cannot believe the nerve of that hag, but, oh Patrick, you saved me, my hero.” She exclaimed, eyes wide and full of love and lust and then as Patrick stared at her silently, a hand making her way to her cheek, stroking her face with a gentle smile upon his, he let the mask drop and suddenly, for the first and last time in her life, Evelyn Bateman saw the monster that was her stepbrother.
“Patrick, what's wrong?” She asked him, her voice trembling as she saw the lust for murder in his eyes, the gentle smile now as crazed as the dead witch’s was. Patrick ignored her, using a sharp blade as he cut away her nightgown, revealing only her body underneath. Evelyn’s whole body trembled, the scared child shining through as she began to shout Patrick’s name.
Patrick picked up a large, curved dagger and swinging it within his hand, he moved closer to Evelyn, strands of her blonde hair sticking to the swear on her face as her idiotic doe eyes filled up with tears as she writhed around on the table as much as she could, restricted by the chains she was now attached too. She looked at her stepbrother, seeing a blood covered demon instead, all she could see was the blood, so much blood on him and her eyes spotted the dagger. Evelyn’s horrible realisation that her blood was next came to her and she screamed, it was a shrill shriek, if you had been wandering another part of the dark forest at this time, you might have mistaken it for a banshee. Patrick loved it when they screamed, even the animals did, it quickly occurred to Patrick that his kill had been too swift for the witch to scream and he laughed, a horrifying cackle, knowing he was going to make up for that.
Evelyn was pleading now, her vision blurred by tears as it seemed like the personification of hell itself walked towards her, still in disbelief that it was the stepbrother she had been trying to fuck for 3 years and as Patrick raised the dagger in the air, he screamed;
“Try crying out for me now you stupid fucking cunt!”
And then he plunged the dagger deep into her stomach, blood and bile spilling onto his hands and he reached deep inside, Evelyn screaming and Patrick realised he had found true pleasure.
Sometime later, Evelyn’s body was unrecognisable, her face mutilated with cuts, eyeballs plucked from her skull and eaten in a soup, the same fate which her intensities had been used for, pulled from her stomach while she still watched, dying slowly and then cut up like sausages. Patrick found they had been rather chewy, this conclusion he had come too after breaking the dead girl’s jaw and forcing his member down her stiff throat, screaming that “this is what she had wanted wasn't it?” It was what she had wanted in some truth yes but it was already presumed that Evelyn had imagined it occurring under very different circumstances, such as when she possessed a pulse. But along with the unravelling of a small, pink brain, the sawing off of feet and other unspeakable acts, Patrick delighted the most in his final act before his journey, cutting Evelyn’s tongue out, frying it up upon a fire in the witch’s fireplace and eating it whole. He felt deranged satisfaction, relishing in the moistness of the tongue and how he had finally gotten to see Evelyn suffer and fuck, Patrick couldn't deny it felt good.
But Patrick soon got bored playing with Evelyn’s mutilated corpse after removing another piece of her scalp, so he decided he thought it was time he would return home and pay his mother and stepfather a well deserved visit after his abandonment within the woods. Although the witch’s corpse was still there, he had no interest in playing with the hag, no, his parents were far more interesting. He chose an assortment of weapons, mallets and blades among them and he set off, exiting the disenchanted house now with a spring in his step, a combination of dried and fresh blood framing his maniacal smile as he watched the house before him turn to dust, no occupants left inside and the witch who used it dead. The only thing left were the bodies and he had his fun with them.
Now he had to find a way home when he recalled back to the night prior, the greedy bitch had been scoffing down a baguette, like a pig in a blonde wig and a nightgown and then he recalled the breadcrumbs, there must still be some on the ground and to Patrick’s crazed delight, there they were scattered in a path starting from the tree they had slept under. He followed it along, making his way through the forest, avoiding bushes, twisting between trees and every time he got bored, he stopped and gutted a nearby animal, taking joy in the carnage.
Eventually, he found his way out of the forest and laid his eyes upon his home, realising how ugly it looked on the outside with its oak walls and straw roof, normally when he was outside he had not paid much attention to the exterior of his home but he knew once he'd had his fun with his parents, he would have to go house hunting, this would not do, not for someone of his looks. He strutted over to the house, head held high as he gripped his weapons tightly, a smile on his face. He approached the heavy wooden door and then.
His knocks were met with the door swinging open and his horrified parents staring at him.
“Patrick..” His mother breathed in shock, he laughed as he gripped a mallet in his left hand and a long blade within the other, his stepfather noticing the weapons and putting an arm in front of Patrick’s mother, they both looked so old and frail to him now, more so then they had only a day before. Maybe it was because their end was so close or maybe they were just miserable old fucks who took up too much air within Patrick’s vicinity. Either way, Patrick didn't care.
“Did you know I’m utterly insane?” Without an answer, his bloodlust growing hungrier by the second, Patrick Bateman began.