When I was in elementary school, this really sweet girl was one of my best friends. I wanted to know her loyalty and boundaries, to experiment a bit, but this is how I see it now, because I had no feeling towards what I was doing at the time. So, I beat her up. I told her how sorry I was and asked her why she wouldn't speak to me anymore, and eventually she forgave me. And then, I beat her up again. This time her mother told her that she was not allowed to speak to me, and she was transferred to a different teacher.
My best friend in junior high school, I stabbed into the top of the hand with a pencil in biology class (when we were in a lab dissecting a squid), just because, I wanted to see what he would do. We ended up becoming friends again after awhile, but I didn't repeat the experiment this time. The relationship between us had become strained.
In high school (this one was provoked), I had become a total pacifist by 9th grade, but there was a racist boy (son of a KKK member) who was in every single one of my classes. I saw him all day, every day, yet the school was large, so it was mere coincidence. He constantly harassed me and no one did anything to stop it; so, after taking this for over a year:
I was in biology class (must be a thing about biology, eh?) and we were dissecting a fetal pig; he was behind me calling me all sorts of names, kicking my chair, pulling my hair, stabbing his finger into my side; I sat and pretended to ignore him, because I had every intention of it just being "another day." He ended up calling me a "cunt-faced dyke" (I was someone shaky towards lesbians at the time, so...this was a great insult); I turned around as if in a zombified daze with my dissecting scissors in hand and stabbed into his shoulder meat, then turned around just as casually and went back to charting the experiment. There was no anger present, at least not that I could see; it was like a reflex to his words. I stayed calm.
The teacher didn't want me to get introuble...she sent him to the nurse and told me, infront of the class, that he deserved it (it was actually making her cry) and all the kids were cheering me on; but he needed to go to the hospital and was talking about pressing charges, so as his parents were involved, I had to sit down with the principal and ended up in a "guidance" school for a couple months (but the teachers loved me there, so...I was happy.)
But always thought that maybe I was a sociopath, because...I never seemed to "feel" in those situations...well, anything other than an empty, hollowness.