American Pyscho draft

I think American Pyscho is both an amazing book and movie, instead of doing a chapter or a scene I wanted to give the overall impression of a day in the life of Patrick Bateman but cant decide if I want to just narrow it down to one specific "incident" ... If you haven't seen it I 100% recommend that you do! 

My name is Patrick Bateman. I live in the American Gardens building, on the 11^th floor with better views than what you would have. I live in the beautiful minimalistic white on white apartment, cleaner than your apartment would ever be. I strongly imagine that you must surround yourself with perfection in order to attain it. I believe in making sure that I am always the perfect version of myself. I follow a rigorous exercise and personal maintenance regime. However I am now aware, no matter how hard I attempt to hide beneath this façade of anti aging balms and protective moisturizing lotions, the evil in my heart is beginning to show.

I belonged to no one who belonged to everyone. Whilst I look and even act like a normal human - on the inside something is ticking away and pulling my entire being in different directions, feelings and compulsions that consume every single one of my actions and thoughts. I tell myself this as part of my morning routine to see if I feel something, guilt perhaps, but nothing. Every move I make is a fabrication, an attempt to convince people I am simply CEO of Pierce and Pierce, on Wall Street. You should have heard of it. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is wavering and uneasy as the ocean with no moral compass and no genuine concern towards others. You may think we are similar if we were too meet in the street but I can assure you we are not, despite my psychotic tendencies I will always remain better than you. You can have hopes, dreams and real feelings to experience however you are all simply living in my world. Nobody is safe;as I am the most unforgiving soulless human on the planet.

I enjoy killing people and getting away with it. I am the American Pyscho.

It is the evening of my 27^th birthday and I have unfortunately been forced to attend a dinner function at Dorsia. As always I am impeccably dressed, my company refuse to grasp why I take delight in obsessively detailing my clothing but the Versace suit I am wearing demands attention. The young waitress has caught my eye as I walk in to the lowly light room she would look like a work of art in my apartment. However Evelyn my supposed fiancée will be arriving any moment so I push the thought to the back cortex of my brain to revive on another day. Great, David is here. He has a better colouring on his business card so I remain in a deep state of hatred towards him.

“Patrick, you’re getting old what are you 30 yet?”

I hated when David talked to me.

“No David, I am 27 therefore making me younger than you and I am more successful so I do not quite comprehend why you have that snide look on your face.”

“Come on, Bateman, what do you think of the waitress over there?”

I acted indifferent to the comment but a fire rose inside of me. As I studied her movements, the way she walked, interacted with other people.. I wanted her. Not in some disgusting sexual or even romantic way. I wanted to feel my hands around her neck as her air supply became limited. I continued to ignore the pathetic conversations around the table and avoided all eye contact with Evelyn.

The next thing that I can remember I am sitting on the white chaise lounger back in my apartment with a serrated knife on the oak side table next to me. I turn the volume up on my speakers and let the enchanting sounds of Phil Collins soothe me. I need a deep breath, the gargling and gasping sounds of the waitress lying on the floor is very off putting and is beginning to ruin the song slightly. For a brief second I contemplate putting her out of her misery but she said the stain on my oak floors didn’t match the rest of my apartment so I shall let her suffer a little while longer. What would an uneducated waitress know about wood stains? I take an antibacterial wipe from the drawer in the side table and wipe down my face before..  Perfect, there’s blood on my new tie. The waitress who I could not bring myself to inquire her name, as I truly did not care was not the first person I killed and basking in the euphoria that I felt afterwards, she would not be the last.