Script & Storyboard
Setting: Jail Cell Rules. I never understood them [1]. I always saw them as chains binding me down holding me back against what I really want to do [2]. You’re probably thinking, “that’s why you’re sitting in that jail cell now; for breaking the rules”. And you’re right [3]. But you are also wrong[4]. Because unlike most who broke the rules or committed a crime out of passion, money, lust, or hate, I did it because it was fun [5].
You see, I am what you call, a psychopath. What’s a psychopath, you may ask? Psychologists have explained it to me a thousand times [1]: Lack of empathy [2], superficial charm [3], manipulation [4], narcissism [5], high intelligence. I just laugh. “So an average day,” I tell them [6]. Why don’t we go back to the day this part of my life began? Listen close [7].
Flashback (The day he got caught for murder) Setting: Office It was half-past nine [1.1] when I entered the office that morning [1.2]; in a suit that cost more than some people’s cars [1.3]. [2.1] I was Vice President for one of the biggest companies in the country [2.2]; two more years, and I would have been at the top [2.3]. [Intelligent/ goal oriented] But something was different [3.1]. Employees weren’t at their desks, phones were left ringing, and something was going on in the middle of the office [3.2]. Then I heard it: the crying [4].
They looked at me [1.1/1.2]; the familiar mix of fear, admiration, and respect in their eyes [1.3], but today it was tainted with a certain grief [1.3]. They stepped aside, letting me see [2]. It was the pretty blonde from Accounting [3.1]. Collapsed on the floor in another woman’s arms [3.2], with her phone lying next to her [3.3]. “She's still having trouble coping with her loss, Sir,” my secretary whispered [4.1]. “It's been 3 days and she's been unable to sleep.” [4.3] “Is that so,” I answered, barely a hint of emotion [5.1]. I stared at this woman, moaning and crying and gasping in her own tears. And the crowd that formed around her [5.2]. Every single one of them, pathetic. Encouraging this pathetic show [5.3]. [lack of empathy]
Pain. What was pain? Seven and a half billion beating hearts on this planet, and you let yourself cry for a single one. This is what separated me from them, from all of them. Why I would always be better [1.1]. I don’t let emotions get in the way of what I am doing [1.2]. [no emotions, can’t feel] But I played their little game. “Order her flowers,” I said to my secretary, loud enough for everyone to hear [2]. I walked to the woman, bent down [3.1], raised her chin and held her hand, letting her eyes meet mine [3.2]. Beautiful, so beautiful, and so naïve [3.3]. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Take a month off, paid. Let yourself breathe.” [3.4] [superficial charm]
She wrapped her arms around my neck, her damn spit, snot, and tears soaking into my suit [1.1]. “Thank you so much, Sir, thank you, thank you.” [1.2] The crowd around me stirred, muttering and speaking of my generosity. “He’s so sweet”, “He’s so generous”, “He’s so handsome.” [1.3] Their eyes flashed; some even with affection and lust. I made notes of those worth my time [1.4]. But already I was thinking, perhaps this blonde would need company tonight [2.1]. Oh, how easy it would be. [2.2] [manipulation]
I spent the rest of the day in a board meeting; too long, too pointless. They didn’t understand my plans—moving operations overseas to cut costs. Why? They were small, ambitionless [1]. They didn’t see our growth, our potential. They never did. Without me, none of them would have had a job [2]. But by the end of the day, they were all eating out of my hand. The idiots were convinced [3]. [Narcissist] It was as good a day as it could have been being surrounded by all these useless people. Until the police kicked in the door, guns drawn. Everyone raised their hands; some screamed. Me? I just listened. Listened as they called my name, followed by, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Mr…” Mr… Ah, what was it? [4]
Flashback to present day Jail cell No, I don’t remember his name. But I remember his face [1]. Remember the way he choked in my hands, how he begged for his life. I remember the moment when that last sliver of life clicked out of his body [2]. It was fun. The adrenaline, the excitement, the mystery. I felt alive like I was king [3].
Why did I kill him? Maybe I thought someone that fat and stupid didn’t deserve a wife as pretty as the blonde from accounting [1.2]. Maybe I hated his face, his clothes, his cheap car [2.2]. Or maybe I was just bored. Bored, impulsive, and slightly reckless, with a single fingerprint revealing my identity [3].
Do I regret it? No. I was born this way [1.1]. 7.4 billion people living on this planet. 1% are psychopaths [1.2]. Out of every one hundred people you will ever meet, one will be like me. A psychopath [1.3]. We don’t all kill; and in fact, I didn’t have to. But in a cat and mouse world, we are always the cat [2.1]. Some lie [2.2]. Some manipulate [2.3]. Some rob, some con [2.4], some hurt [2.5]. Hurt more than they will ever realize because there’s one thing we all share in common: deep inside, none of us really feel [3.1]. And believe me, I’ve met them all. And so have you [3.2]. But five years later, none of it matters anymore.
(The guard opens the door, and mutters:) “You’re free to go.” [1] You would think they wouldn’t release a psychopath so soon, but with power and money, anything is possible. Maybe I should see how she’s doing. [2]
There are 75 million psychopaths in the world [1]. Have you met one? [2] Let us know in the comments down below. For more MinuteVideos, be sure to like and subscribe.