Werewolf XXI: The Sand Harbor Homicides

[Quincunx]

(Lissa Tuttle, 10:00, waiting for the inmates to arrive)

I wish we’d gotten the handymen out of here sooner, we’ve only got three hours before the van arrives! One of the lamps shattered when Jon tried to wrench it off the table! The base stayed in place, because we superglued it, but all of those plastic chips and wires—probably would look like a thousand knives to those murderers. Thank God that he wanted to check one last time to see that everything was secure! I vacuumed three times while he glued a coffee can over the base and soldered the light bulb fixture into place; I’ll have to sit by this lamp while I interview the psychos, there’s no way that glue will have set by then. Put the case files in front of it so they can’t see the broken base, that’ll buy us some time—My God, it’ll be just me and Jon in the room with one of them; he’ll be too far away to help if one of them decides to just reach over and snap my neck!

 

(Jon Tuttle, 10:00, waiting for the inmates to arrive)

Perimeter check. Think professional. That sheet’s solid, I could hit it full-force and it wouldn’t come loose. I cut them out of old station wagons, they didn’t crumple in rollovers so they should hold here. We’ll get written up for boarding up the windows, Lissa said, but no glass! I agree. They don’t need windows. Go inside, to the kitchen. Couldn’t secure it so we moved ourselves into the conference hall—shame we couldn’t use that for the day room though. Through our rooms, through the secure doors, into the lockdown. Dogs angry. Don’t like being cooped up indoors, tough luck fellas, even Old Yeller’s kid woulda shot you by now. Odd-numbered doors on the right, even on the left. This is it. This is the murderer’s row. Lissa’s got the front end of the motel under control, the day room and dispensary—that was convenient, check-in desk already had a safe. Think professional. Look professional. Put these cards up over the doors, nobody ever looks that high unless they want to. . .

 

Room 1: Jeremy LaVaughn (NPC) – ignore all night-time requests

Room 3: Audrey DeLance (Celes Crusader) – spoons only, always supervise with others

Room 5: Thomas McKinston (Patrick Durham) – receives visitors, search afterwards

Room 7: Tabatha Johnson (Mynx) – spoons only, check hourly at night

Room 9: Duncan Clarke (Venefyxatu) – no outside communications

Room 11: Brenda X (Sweetcherrie) – supervise her medication, search frequently

Room 15: Jason Ulmer (Katzaniel) – no outside communications, separate from Tabatha

Room 17: Holly Lin (NPC) – supervise her medication, always supervise with others

 

(10:45, Lissa Tuttle)

 

"I know it should be a patch and not a badge," I told him while I pinned it on, "but the embroidery shop didn't have anything appropriate in stock. It's soft metal though, they can't make anything out of it." He knew I was lying--Rhadamanthus summer '90, Artificial Keys, was our first success--but he nodded and said, "Makes me look more menacing?"

 

"Completely," and it did, not nearly so much as not shaving for five days had, but it was the right finishing touch; Dr. Tuttle always wears soft colors and fabrics to treat the patients as equals, but her security guard looks like a bruiser for whom pay is an afterthought--even his wrinkles scowled. "You don't have to use the Me Tarzan voice just yet, though!"

 

"Me Tarzan. Me professional. Me smash heads together!" he rumbled, waving his nightstick. I couldn't help laughing! He grabbed hold of my shoulders and dear God, that was a frightening grip, I stopped laughing right away. Then he smiled, "This is good. You can still laugh, and I can frighten you out of it. We'll be fine. The state will send extra personnel after two weeks, and then we can settle back and be. . .administrators. Dr. Tuttle, you always were an administrator. If they get unruly, that's when they'll have to answer to me."

[Patrick]

The brakes on the van were old and made a lot of noise. Every time the van braked for a red light I could hear them. I wonder where they are taking me. They had told me that I was being transferred to a new facility. But you can never know with these guards. Sometimes they did not tell the truth because they were taking the prisoners to a place they did not like, but they wanted the prisoners to be calm during the trip. I scratch my left ear with my handcuffed hands, while shooting a glance at Isaac, the guard sitting across from me in the van, pointing the shotgun at me all the time. He knows that I am one of the most cooperative prisoners, but he can never be too careful. I try to make small talk, but he does not reply to my attempts.

 

With another squeal of the overused breaks the van slowly comes to a halt. I look at Isaac to see whether this was our destination. Isaac had been the guard on my floor in Los Angeles's highest security prison all the time I had been there. Sometimes he brought me small messages from my family and at one point gave me a drawing made by my youngest son, Jim when he was ten years old. The drawing was the only thing I had been allowed to take with me from the prison on the flight and the subsequent ride in the van.

 

Isaac did not reply, but from the small movements and sounds of the van I could feel that the driver was getting out. The back door of the van opened and the driver stood there pointing his gun at me.

 

"Ok, Isaac you can get out now."

 

While Isaac slowly moved out I took the drawing from my shirt's pocket and had a look at it. It showed Speed, the stallion I had bought in 2002, with the whole of my family drawn next to him. On the bottom of the paper Jim had written in his small handwriting: I love you dad, hope you come home soon.

 

I was told to step out of the van and did so, but tripped on the edge of the van and fell forward on my face, and the drawing flew from my hands. I felt a pair of hands grab me forcefully and I was pulled up by the driver.

 

"Don't try any tricks on us McKinston." - the driver was a local cop, whom I had never seen before.

 

"There is no need to be rough to him. We're leaving him in less than five minutes anyway." - Isaac said and handed the drawing back to me. I gratefully took it and placed it back in the safety of my shirt pocket.

 

"You think he's allowed to have that?"- the local cop asked.

 

"That shall be up to those who take care of him from now on."

 

Isaac told me to walk in front of him towards the building, I could see in front of us. I wondered what would await me inside.

[Mynx]

I was used to travelling in these old vans. The fun had worn off long ago but I didn't complain. I never complained. I was a good girl.

The men in the back with me were funny - they kept trying to talk to me, asking me if I liked kiddy things like ponys and barbie dolls. I think they thought I was quiet because I was scared. They soon stopped asking me questions though, they didn't like the way I stared, I guess.

No one seemed to.

But I wouldn't talk. Talking is what caused the trouble in the first place. It's all my family would do...except they used to yell.

So much yelling. I had to make it stop.

 

I closed my eyes and thought of Ash, my angel. My mother used to think Ash was my imaginary friend, but whenever I tried to draw him to show her what he looked like, she got a strange look on her face. Said that angels were nice and white, not black.

But she didn't know.

 

With a jerk, the van pulled to a halt. The men jumped out - I think they were happy to get rid of me. As I stepped out of the back of the van and made my way to the building with one man on either side and another leading, I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be anything like the last place I was in. No matter if it was. Ash would protect me.

Ash always protected me.

Edited June 9, 2005 by Mynx

[Venefyxatu]

I hate handcuffs, hate the idea of not being able to move my hands separately. I almost figured it out, though ... if only they'd give me ten minutes alone I could take them off. Everything has a weakness, and so do these things. Not that it matters much - from the way Steve keeps turning his head to the front windshield I can tell we're almost there.

 

Oh yes, we're definitely as good as there ... a road as full of holes as this one is just has to be the end of any ride.

 

See?

 

Yeah yeah, I know the procedure ... I think I know it better than you guys by now, as often as you've been transferring me after the first three times I got out of those colanders the state calls prisons. Didn't help much, though, did it? At least, didn't help you keeping me locked up ...

 

"So, we're finally ..."

 

"Shut up Clarke."

 

Heh ... when was the last time I said something without getting that answer again? It's almost as if they're scared I'm going to bewitch them or something. Doesn't matter, I can get them nervous without talking as well ... a slight smile and a conspiratory wink towards Steve will do the trick. It's hard not to grin when seeing them eyeballing each other after that, but I can manage ... until I see the dump we've arrived at, that is.

They're actually going to try and keep me on the inside of that?? Give me two weeks, and I'm back after turning myself in again. Heh, this looks almost too easy to be true. I wonder if it is ... Hmm, I'd better get out of here before I find out it's actually the place where Frankensteins monster is kept. And I think I know how I'm going to do it, too ... Mr "I-want-to-look-tough-so-I-don't-shave" there has given me an idea.

 

"My God, it IS alive!"

 

"Shut UP Clarke!"

 

Heheheh ... he's so going to keep an eye on me ... probably warn his colleagues as well. Now I just have to get the others to cooperate.

[Lady Celes Crusader]

I was surprised that no media showed up when I embarked on this piece of junk of a van. After all, I have been dubbed as a female Jeffrey Dahmer and my transfer to wherever they send me had been highly publicised. The thought makes me smile, while he was docile and able to control his pulsions, I don't. Therefore, these pigs chained my limbs on two different post, giving me just enough slack in case the van had crappy suspension... and it have.

 

I didn't wasted my time to talk to my "necrositters"; they are so empowered by their weapons... hum... their weapons... I wonder if they use them for something else... something more devious... I couldn't help but laugh. One of the pigs, whom I suspect that have a shorter temper, replies.

 

- What do you find so funny?

 

I keep laughing in the most obnoxious way I can think of, since that I'm denied of expressing my sexuality, I want to piss these guys off as often as possible. It worked with the susceptible guardian.

 

- Would you stop it?

 

- Or else?

 

I've asked the question with the most taunting quirk I could came up with. The poor imbecile was about to blow in anger.

 

- I... I... I...

 

- I. I. I. I! That's all you could say? Oh... I'm sure that you tempted to shove...

 

- ENOUGH!!!!

 

This time, it was the cretin's boss who reacted, while holding his collegue down.

 

- But officer Kramer! You know how much your little piggy friend direly needs to show me his autoritae! I'm all tied up after all!

 

While "Piggy" was red with anger, Kramer stared at me and kept his calm poise. Dammit I hate him for that!

 

- Calm down Frank, you're exactly doing what she wants. Ignore her and let her squirm in her own twisted perversions.

 

DAMMIT!!! I absolutly hate Kramer! Now I'm all excited and the first thing I know is that I've just been hanged up to dry. And now, that stupid van must have rolled on somekind of hole as it made me jump but the chains pulled me back roughly. I wince at the pain but I quickly pull myself together.

 

When we finally reached destination, my "companions" detach my left hand from it's post, make me lean forward and attach my left arm to my right arm behind my back. They put shackles on my ankles and removes the chains that linked me to the van's poles. After I've been jerk outside, we wait at the entrance of this new facility until two guards showed up. Kramer lend me to the guards warning them about my behavior. When the guards take me away, I couldn't help but to tease "Piggy" for one last time.

 

- Hey Piggy! You've got a big baton here. Ever wonder if your wife f...

 

"Piggy" instantly bursts in rage, knowing too well what I meant. I laugh so hard that I have a hard time to walk, forcing my new guards to drag me. In fact, the more "Piggy" yell at me, the more I laugh. I'll kinda miss him.

[Sweetcherrie]

I felt every little bump in the road, and my stomach was getting more and more upset. Silently wishing that we would arrive soon, I turned the page of the magazine. It was amazing how much information you could find about people in these glossies. I thought back of Ben my third husband. There had only been a small article about him in Business Newsweek. It had said that he had recently received a new heart, and that everybody had been relieved that the multimillionaire was doing reasonably well.

 

I looked up at the officer across from me and wondered if he had any money. He looked relatively cute, but was a bit too young for my taste. I preferred men that were closer to their natural death.

 

“Say cutey, are we going to be there anytime soon?” I asked, when I noticed that he was staring at my breasts.

 

His face turned red when he realised that I had seen him. My breasts have always been one of my biggest assets, although I have always known exactly how to make a man notice me. I chuckled inwardly; this knowledge had certainly made life easier.

 

“We’ll get there when we get there”

 

I looked at the other officer. He must be in his forties and if the saying that people start to look like their dogs was true, he surely had a bulldog at home. The van hit another bump and before I could stop it my stomach turned inside out. My previous meal was now lying on the bulldog’s lap, and his face was turning purple.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry” I said, but winked at he cute officer. He winked back; apparently we both didn’t like his colleague.

 

“Sam, please make a stop at the next gas station, I can’t arrive looking like this!” He shouted to the driver.

 

The driver shouted back that they had already passed the last one, and asked if he had to turn back. The bulldog grumbled, which even heightened the resemblance, and said that they couldn’t arrive late.

 

My stomach felt a whole lot better now I had gotten rid of its contents, and it was funny to see the officer struggling to accept the fact that he would have to arrive covered in puke. I stuck my magazine inside my prison overall, and hoped that they would use more fashionable colours in the next place, grey just wasn't my colour. I sat back, and for the rest of the ride I stared at the handsome officer.

Edited June 7, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Quincunx]

(Jon Tuttle, 12:30)

 

They arrived early. Lissa sent me out to the van. I'm putting them all in the day room first, isn't in the script but it's too hot to keep people in the van during interviews. That's what we say. The real reason is we have to get them inside while we have the extra guards handy. Two men first, both in the prison grays but wearing them like opposites. Mr. Uniform stares at me like I'm staring at him, cool and collected, but Mr. Undershirt and Sweatpants says "Good eeevehening, Igor" and bows to me. Then a woman alone, laughing like a hyena and with enough guards for two. I smell hot vomit, sweat when the guards swing her out of the van. The first guards come back out, fetch--a kid? Lissa's going to be angry. The second guards come back out and bring out two more women. One of them smiles at the other's guard, but he scowls back at her; I smell that stink again. The other woman stares at the boarded-up windows and I can see the complaint letter forming in her head. The first guards come back out and empty the van, two more men, both middle-aged and half-bald. Mr. Clean-shaven is walking as far away as he can get from Mr. Bearded, who's got a long wet streak going down one pants leg. New stink. I follow them all inside.

 

Lissa speaks over the intercom: Thomas McKinston! She's starting with the easy one. I pick out Mr. Uniform and guide him to what used to be the manager's office.

Edited June 8, 2005 by Quincunx

[Patrick]

The others look to me to be real psycho cases, especially that woman stinking of vomit. The only thing I can't understand is what that young girl is doing here. I never saw anyone that young be in the same prison as adults. Must be some really new facility we are all being brought to here.

 

I hear my name on the intercom and the man, who seems to work here shows me the door. I manage to open it with my handcuffed hands and wonder what awaits me inside.

[Lady Celes Crusader]

After my guards force me to sat down on a chair, I check at those who were already here. Actually, they were only two men; one that looks too much like the pigs and the other had the word geek stamped on his forehead. I tried to take the most comfortable position as possible, considering that I have my hands tied together behind my back.

 

Then, a little girl arrive which surprises me a bit. However, she's way to young for my taste since at that age, they don't know a sh** about sex. However, I would love to rape the men... Hum... straddling them, make them moaning until I stab, stab, stab, stab... The geek's fingers are worthy to be kept.

 

Then, the arrival of two other women and two other men pulls me out of my daydream. The other two males interesting sex toy prospects although they seems to be in their forthies. As for the women, they were of the perfect age group, although the key is to find out if they are into women. But there's something else that makes me smile, one of the guards is covered with puke. I decided to taunt that fellow.

 

- Hey you! Yeah you with the puke! I guess your prisonner want to show you how much you stink!

 

While some of the other prisonners chuckles, one of my guards already scolds me.

 

- Behave Audrey!

 

- Or what? You'll tie me up in a straight jacket? It'll be more confortable than having my hands tied up behind my back.

 

Suddenly, the voice of a woman called for a Thomas, and the one that reminds me of a cops gets up and leaves into another room. I look back at my guards and I grinned at them. I was curious about the man that just left.

 

- Where he's going?

 

- If I told you, would you promise to behave?

 

- Sure... And tell me why there's a kid here?

 

- About the kid, I've got no idea why she's transferred here. Behind these doors, you'll be interviewed by Dr. Tuttle.

 

- How many interviews will it take until they find out what the whole world already knows; that I'm a f***** up b****?

 

I sigh and lean back on my tied up arms, waiting for my turn.

[Sweetcherrie]

The van stopped, and stinky dog stepped out first. Cutey pulled me up, and I managed to rub my breasts against his crutch when he did so. With a grin I saw the bump in his trousers growing, I still had it in me. With a blush on his face he pushed me out of the van, and they took me into a light room with more prisoners in it. I sighed, more grey uniforms here. The state just didn’t know how to make life a bit brighter, no wonder that so many prisoners went suicidal after a while.

 

I glanced around the group, and one woman caught my attention. She was laughing hysterically, and when she had finally stopped she switched to being rude to her guards. I could see that all she really wanted was a little love, but knew that she was going the wrong way about it. Maybe I could give her some tips about how to subtly catch a man in the future. My eye fell on a handsome man in the corner, and I wondered swiftly what prison policy would be about sex between the inmates. They probably were against it, so far it had seemed they were only here to make life boring for me, even the food tasted grey.

Edited June 9, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Mynx]

I remained silent as we were unloaded and taken into the waiting room to see the doctor - but then, I always remained silent.

I could tell that the other people here with me were surprised to see a child.

I wondered what they had done to be brought here. One of the ladies wouldn't stop laughing at first, while the other kept staring at the men in a funny way and pushing her chest in their directon.

I didn't really understand it.

My mother used to say when I was older she would tell me.

...I wonder who will tell me now...

[Quincunx]

(Jeremy LaVaughn, group therapy, “Distinguishing the Real?”)

Tonight, the full moon’s tonight, coming to take my life tonight. I shouldn’t say that out loud, the doctors tell me it’s not true so I know no one will believe me. . .they’re staring. . .I did say it out loud.

 

Oh hell, you all don’t believe me, and you shouldn’t have to either.

 

The doctor nodded. Now, what did she say was the next step? Present evidence. Life is one big ongoing trial but here you always speak to the jury.

 

All I know is that when I gave the moon what it wanted, I was a free man, and now I’ve been caged up for years. I’ve been getting sicker lately, my hair is starting to fall out. You see the spot on top of my head, right? Now I bend my neck and show them.

 

Yeah. That’s real. Now for the passionate appeal.

 

The moon’s sucking the life right out of my head. What happened to the good old days, when some people were too evil to live? Why can’t I use them?!?! Why! Why! What the—Stop that!—Let me go!—

 

Oops. I’d better spit that out. I’ve seen lawyers foam and rave but trials are touch football. No tackling allowed.

 

I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. When I get frustrated, I chew stuff. If they let me have gum, I wouldn’t have gnawed on you.

[Venefyxatu]

Heh ... it shouldn't be too hard to get the women to cooperate ... especially the rude one. Nice remark to that guard, there ... a few more cracks like that and he'll be going outside to cry.

 

"And she kind of understated it, too ... don't you think? Or are you going to be part of the Monster Crew in here?"

 

I return the grin she flashed me - one point for me. It was a bit of a toothy grin, though ... she should have a Handle With Care sticker on her.

 

Hmm, a child ... strange. I wonder what she's here for. She could be a great asset, too, if handled the right way. She seems a bit too quiet for a child, though, she might be the hardest one to get on my side. Funny.

No reaction to a friendly smile ... or to anyone else's stares for that matter. That's one precious child, she's tougher than the rest of us together, brilliant!

 

 

An interview with dr. Tuttle? Eexcellent ... I wonder what he'll be like. Yes, this is definitely going to be an interesting stay. I might not leave after all, just for the fun of it. Maybe that's what they're aiming for?

 

I chuckle, and that seems to draw the attention of some of the others.

 

"What's so funny?"

 

"Everything ... don't you see it? A bunch of criminals, gathered nicely under the care of Frankenstein's Monster and his crew."

[Quincunx]

(Lissa Tuttle, 19:00, dispensary)

I touched up my makeup before leaving the office, but I’m so disgusted I can barely hold my head upright. It shows, I know it. I’ve spent the last hour hiding in here, unpacking the boxes of medications; we received enough medication for a month for twelve people. Somewhere, four people are going to be without their pills, and a state pharmacist will be audited and fired for something he couldn’t prevent. We’ll scoop that in the next Rhadamanthus. I called Jon over the motel’s intercom.

 

“Please bring everyone here, one by one, and get them into their rooms,” I told him, then dropped my voice, “They’re already posing and preening after matching wits with the doctor and we need to cut that short.” He nodded and I opened up the first set of bottles, then reached for the pill crusher. This patient, luckily, had a prescription necessary for his health, and I could crush the anti-psychotics into that and know he was taking them. If they wanted to know what drugs they were taking, patients have to send a self-addressed stamped envelope and signature to the state—their idea, not mine—and guess what part of the facility always controls access to stamps!

 

(Jon Tuttle, 22:00, perimeter check)

I start in the kitchen, cut up meat for the dogs. If they didn’t get meat, they’d get me. But if anyone got out, dogs would get them. Through the secure doors, into the lockdown. Smells like dogs whizzed in here. Where are the dogs? Shine the light, not at this end, not—ROOM ONE IS OPEN! Hinges twisted! Careful. Careful. I have to be extremely careful. Shine the light, nothing, nothing, dead dog. Footprints in the blood and those were not there before. Turn around, nothing. I know how to track, Door Number One left running. Don’t blame him. Hope he didn’t stop. Back to the kitchen, slowly—dogs are growling—

 

Kill it or die. Kill it or die. KILL IT OR DIE.

 

(. . .later. . .)

“Lissa? . . .Hurts to. . .breathe. . .Jeremy’s. . .in the freezer. . .I think the freezer’s on me. . .Say something, Lissa. . .Lissa? . . .Werewolves are. . .real. . .”

 

(Lissa Tuttle, 7:00)

I can’t face them alone. I can’t face anyone after seeing what died in that freezer. My God, my God. . .Jon! What will I do???

 

(7:15)

If I call the police, either they’ll lock me up for running this place, or they’ll call in the CIA or whoever handles alien autopsies and that sort of thing, and—they’ll lock me up! I can’t let anyone know.

 

(7:30)

I ran back to the kitchen and dared to take a closer look at the freezer.

 

There’s one messy footprint in the blood, and half of another, leading away.

 

(7:45)

They can have boxed cereal for breakfast. I’m not going back in there.

 

(9:00)

Each one wanted to ask questions when the doctor herself let them out of their rooms, but I couldn’t say anything, not until they were all assembled in the day room. I had to put on Dr. Ligeia like a costume. “Jeremy told me yesterday that he felt his life was in danger. I dismissed his concerns and said that I had faith in your sincere desire to reform. I was WRONG.” Yes, I shouted! “We are not SAFE! Jeremy is dead! Someone has taken it into their heads to kill HERE, at THIS facility!” Some heads whipped around at that—good paranoiacs, lap it up! “We will be holding double group therapy today, on Regret and on Recognizing the Standards of Society,” that’ll chafe them, “with later role-play and diagnosis of the standards of THIS society.” I sat down and they didn’t scatter. Hostility is binding them together—good! Go tear each other to pieces, you damned murderers! “Group therapy on Regret will be available from now until noon. I will remain here for group leadership and grief counseling.”

[Mynx]

The lady wouldn't stop yelling. She seemed really mad about the dead person.

I didn't get it. Everyone here seemed to hate the bad people. Wouldn't they be happy for us to die? All us bad people had were each other.

But none of them wanted to admit that.

I looked silently at the guards, wondering if maybe they set this all up. I knew we weren't liked.

I kept thinking of the strange noises I heard last night while I was in my room, wondering what would have caused such...doggy noises...

Closing my eyes, I looked for Ash in my mind, a tiny smile across my face as I felt his comfort wrap around me.

[Lady Celes Crusader]

Is there anything worse than therapy? Yes... GROUP therapies. I hate them, I can't stand them and the first one is about regret... ah-HA! Sure... And now I've learned than one of the boys just died... What a waste, gotta have to ask the question to the doc.

 

- Hey doc! What did they do to his body?

 

- It's now in the autospy room and no, we wont give you any part of it.

 

I snap my fingers in dissapointment.

 

- Damn! I regret that I couldn't have fun with him before he dies.

 

- Well, now that you conveniently talk about regrets, is there anything else you do regret.

 

- Hum, I regret that I havent been more cautious about the corpses' smell in my appartment. I regret that I havent f***** so many.

 

- Language please! There's a child here.

 

- A child who had probably commited murder as well. When I was her age, I've heard and seen every many depraved stuff. So, I also regret that I havent have sex with more girls. Lesbians really rules when it comes to...

 

- There's no need to continue, Audrey.

 

I've seen Dr. Tuttle nodding in despair. I know that I was a pain in her large a** but heck, I decide it was time to ask her an embarrassing question.

 

- Why? Did you ever tried to get laid with a woman?

 

- No... thank you Audrey. I see that you have absolutly no shame about your sexuality.

 

- You're damn right! I'm a professionnal after all.

 

While the doctor coaxes the others into speaking, I couldn't help to think about the dead guy's body... his legs... hum... his legs... they we're so long... I'm sure that his femur would have make an awesome toy... hum...

 

At the moment, the doctor keeps calling my name, pulling me off the daydream.

 

- Uh what?

 

- Audrey, care to tell us if you genuinely regret killing these people.

 

I look at Dr. Tuttle lazily.

 

- No... I don't. Their death provided me the best orgasms I ever had. It was way better than heroin.

 

- You never thought of their relatives?

 

- I did for one of the guys. I wondered if he had brothers who were as well equipped as he was.

 

- They were someone's brother, sister, son, daughter and friend...

 

- So... what's the point? They were only toys!

 

- Toys... So this is how you consider other people? Objects meant to satisfy your desires?

 

- Yeah. So?

 

The doctor rolls her eyes and I glance at the other. They were all staring at me, wondering how to react to what I've just said. If Dr. Tupple considered us as damn murdurer, I'm pretty that I'm the most damned in her mind.

[Katzaniel]

Regret? I would have to agree with the one they call Audrey on that one. I didn't get caught the same way - I would never have left bodies in my apartment for just anyone to find - but getting caught is my biggest regret. For now, I remain silent. I won't talk unless they make me. But I don't regret my wife leaving me, not any more. It was that that made me find Jennifer, and Lacey, and Susan... oh, I could list them all, but that's not really the point. Any young girl was better than my wife, despite their sick natures. Sure, there was a long period in there with very little sex, but once I got through that, once the girls started coming to me, it was all worth it. After I killed Jennifer (I couldn't have let her go back home, now could I? And she was a sick girl, very sick.) I felt a little guilty, but mostly I had wanted to run through the streets, proclaiming to all men that I had found the way to do it. Young girls, especially virgins, who would scream right when I wanted them to... there couldn't be anything better, could there?

 

The doctors drone on about regret, and what do I regret? Not Jennifer. Certainly not Lacey, and not even Susan. What I regret is Tomoko. And not for killing her, nor for exploiting her inner sickness. I regret the complacency and the overwhelming desire that led me to pull the car over too soon, to fail to drag her far enough into the woods. I regret languishing in her screams, and not realizing that we were close to the highway, that someone else might hear them.

 

"Mr. Ulmer."

 

They want something out of me, do they? I'll give them a gem of wisdom that they'll appreciate, but never truly understand. "Regret is viler than the act which one regrets," I say. "Regret never gets you anywhere. Instead, learn from your mistake, and take advantage of your new situation." And while they muse over that one, croon over the deep meanings they think they see, I will take it to heart. This new facility offers me two really good opportunities: Tabatha, the young girl. She really seems my type. And Audrey, the one who keeps shouting arousing comments about kinds of sex I've never tried, and lesbianism. Mmmm, lesbians. I wonder what sorts of things she might be able to teach me, and whether I might be able to get her and Tabatha away from the guards at the same time?

Edited June 10, 2005 by Katzaniel

[Quincunx]

(Holly Lin, group therapy, "Regret")

The human herd is restless. Brenda is the only one not feeling the restlessness, and wills her pheromones at Duncan. Thomas conceals his wariness well; Tabatha shows more signs of emotion than he. Audrey and Jason are feeding off of each other's restlessness and Dr. Ligeia also. I should leave. Now.

 

"MISS Lin!" Her voice whiplashes. It's only one person but it provokes the herd's temper. "Sit down and contribute!"

 

I sink down. It's only one person and I remembered to compose my reply before the herd's eyes--no! it's only one person who cares--

 

“Communal, Dynamic, Therapeutic: These are today’s buzzwords. Somewhere at the core of this transfer, a doctoral candidate has said: Let these people be picked from the state’s various social services and placed together to learn from one another. I regret the hours that will be wasted in this approach. My family meant well by placing me here, but I would rather have worked out my grief while completing my field work. Untold gallons of oil per day are leaking into the Gulf of Guinea undocumented, while I sit here and listen to today’s buzzwords. Shameful. Greenpeace needs me more than those buzzing postgraduate flies need their practical credits.”

 

Dr. Ligeia glared at me even after I sat down. This must be her pet project! Her fury is easy to bear, the human herd does not share it. It's only one person. . .Wait. Only one person? Where's the guard from yesterday? No matter how many corners the state may cut, they would never leave us with only one supervisor.

 

She has lied. I imagine that she has already put the guard's body in Jeremy's uniform.

Edited June 10, 2005 by Quincunx

[Sweetcherrie]

So regret, hmm...what would I regret? I would never regret helping those poor old people out of their sufferings…and their savings. They asked me for it. Everyday when I nursed them, trying to get them back to health, they complained. Complained about being old, about being sick, about not getting any younger. No I certainly didn’t regret helping them.

 

I thought back at Miss Maple, she had been such a sweet old lady. Her daughter used to bake cookies for me, and the old lady herself loved me. Her grandchildren would come sometimes, and then we would all sit around the bed of the old lady and eat the cookies their mom had made. I’m sure the old lady loved me even more when I gave her the medication. She went to sleep with a smile on her face. I felt myself smiling when I thought back of it; this was a way I would want to die if it would come to it.

 

Did I maybe regret my husbands? The first one maybe... John had been a great lay, and he hadn’t had nearly enough savings to make it worthwhile. I had to end his life though; it would have been impossible to get a new husband without killing the first one. Stupid law, first of all they don’t allow proper euthanasia, second they should really let people marry more than one person at a time. Who could ever be satisfied with just one man? Everybody knew that men couldn’t keep up with women. I had needed at least three different men to get my pleasure in order. Plus that men were always more tired then women were, after three times they would just fall asleep, claiming that they were tired and empty. Tsk, I emptied them all right, and their bank accounts.

 

I thought at what they had found in the freezer. This was not a worthy way for a man to die. What would his relatives think when they saw his body? Nah, the way I had killed my husbands at least gave their relatives a proper body to look at.

 

I thought of what I would say when it was my turn to speak. If I were ever to get out of here, I would have to at least show regret. I would have to tell them how sorry I was and that I now understood that taking someone’s life was a bad thing to do, a very bad thing. My thoughts drifted to my various bank accounts around the world that the police did not know off, and it was hard to put my face back into regretmode.

 

“So Brenda, what do you regret?”

 

I gave it one more thought, took a deep breath, and started, “I regret that I’ve felt so mislead all these years, and that I killed those people, and….”

Edited June 10, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Mynx]

Everyone was talking about regret.

What did they mean? Something we felt bad about?

I felt bad about a lot of things.

I felt bad about the time I got mud on my dress when I promised my mummy I wouldn't...I felt bad about the time I took my sister Sharon's mirror and broke it...I felt bad about the time I left the gate open and my puppy Sparky ran away...

But feeling regret for what I did to my family?

Why? Ash told me I wasn't bad...

I helped them...I stopped the yelling...

These people confused me.

At least I had Ash.

 

They finally turned their questions on me. I stared at them. Ash always says don't talk. I haven't since that night, and I wasn't going to now. Besides, they were getting angry at what the talking people said, so me being quiet should have been a good thing.

 

...They didn't seem to see it this way...

[Venefyxatu]

Regret, that's a good one. Why should I regret anything? Although, I guess if that's what they want to hear, then fine by me, I'll give them such a show of regret they'll all be wondering whether it's real or bad acting. That ought to be interesting to watch.

 

Funny how they're all staring at Tabatha, now ... she's not going to answer and I've got the idea she could outstare a cat.

 

Heh, and Brenda seems interested in me today ... with a slight wink towards her I get up when it's my turn, the main idea of my speech firmly in my mind.

 

"Regret, yes ... there are so many things to regret."

 

Dramatic pause ... and then resume right when the doctor starts speaking.

 

"..."

 

"I mean, I could've done so many other, constructive things with my life, and those others as well. Yes ..."

 

A slight sigh here ... whoa, don't overdo it D! At least not too much. Aaand she's about to start speaking ... now.

 

"..."

 

"If only they hadn't all killed themselves."

 

So that's what a human imitating a fish looks like .. mouth open close open close ... heheheh.

 

"There's so much gone to waste there ... it's sad."

 

Now sit down again with a sigh and a shake of my head ... good way to conceal a half-grin in Audrey's direction and a slight leap of my eyebrows towards Jason. Oops, better hurry if I want to interrupt her again.

 

"..."

 

"Hey doc, at least with Jeremy gone that's one less of us to worry about for you, isn't it?"

 

Right ... better stop it now.

Edited June 10, 2005 by Venefyxatu

[Patrick]

I waited for Duncan to finish. I could easily see from my previous encounters with serial killers during my career that he was acting. And badly while at it. If the Dr. was at least a quarter as good as I thought she was she would also see it. But she did not comment. Looking around Thomas realised that it was his turn.

 

"Regret. At times I felt it, at times not. When I made my confession I was certainly feeling regret. But whether it was regret over not being able to explain why I commited the murders or regret over the taking of life, I could never explain."

 

I looked around the other "guests" of the motel and saw that my unconventional way of explaining my regret had caught them off guard, and they were now listening to me. I looked directly at Dr. Tuttle, knowing that she had probably already read my case file.

 

"As you must have seen in my case file, I killed pretty randomly. Every one of those individuals could have led a full life, had I not ended their lives."

 

I suddenly stopped, lost in thought. The others looked at me curiously, since I obviously had not finished saying all that I had wanted. It was Dr. Tuttle, who broke the silence about a minute later.

 

"Please continue Thomas, you were saying that those individuals could have lived full lives."

 

"Yes I was. But they did not live full lives, because I killed them." - my voice was cold, almost emotionless. After all that time at the homicide department, and my years as a consultant for the police department, had I become senseless to murder? Had it been this that had pushed me to kill those people? Simply being used to murder so much, that my doing it did not strike me as bad? I made a mental note of talking about this with Dr. Tuttle the next time I had a private interview with her.

 

"I do most certainly regret killing one of my victims. He was a young boy, the son of a murderer, on death row, I had interviewed. This murderer had asked me to take something to his son. I did, and then visited the son several more times in the coming weeks. He was a bright boy, and would have deserved much more than what he had with his mother, in the slums of Detroit. One day I went walking with him in one of Detroit's parks, when we started talking about his father. It was a sensitive subject for both of us, as the boy did not know that his father had been given the death penalty and I did not want to reveal it to him."

 

"He mentioned to me while we walked that one day he would want to be like his father. I had stayed silent for a long time that afternoon, and had killed the boy two days later. I did not want to let him become a murderer as his father had been. The one thing I regret is not having tried to talk to him. I immediately went to action, as a bad cop would have done. Instead of negotiating I killed him."

 

I fell silent. Hopefully that was going to be enough for the group therapy. However I did have a few things to talk about with the Dr. once the others weren't around.

Edited June 10, 2005 by Patrick Durham

[Katzaniel]

Everyone is looking at Thomas strangely. He certainly has some odd motives, even for a murderer. A psychopath, obviously. Even more so than the other man, the one who seems to be pushing the buttons of the staff and the doctor, for what? To study them, I suppose. But this one, Thomas, he seems to be studying himself. I notice Duncan eyeing Thomas suspiciously.

 

Yes, the murder. Someone here did it, I suppose. Well, I hope it wasn't Tabatha. She probably isn't pure; she's probably sick, like all the others were. But something in me hopes that she's here mistakenly. There has to be such a thing as a pure woman, somewhere. And the other women. I never did watch the news reports much, but I saw enough to know how Brenda, the Black Widow, killed her patients, even if I'd been in jail when it happened. She had to be innocent, of this murder at least. And Audrey? I missed her in the headlines, but I could tell she killed for the pleasure of it. No, whoever had murdered Jeremy had an agenda. Holly? No, she was another that I'd heard about, an exhibitionist. She always kills in public, or so I'd heard.

 

But Duncan suspects Thomas. Or maybe he wants us to think he suspects him? Well, Thomas has me nervous, too. What kind of a person kills without knowing why? Maybe to learn why? I will definitely watch myself around him.

[Lady Celes Crusader]

I've listened to the others, although each have their own ways. The one that had been called Mr Ulmer did stared at me in his odd way. Perhaps my speech about lesbian sex aroused him... and that he seems to give the same stare at the little girl too. I guess that he's a monster like me, in his own way.

 

As "Miss Lin" I respect her humor. This is exactly what it is done here, they want to give society a good consciense by giving us therapy even if there's no way in hell I'm going to get out of jail alive. I'm jailed for doing seven planned murders and to have eaten human flash for Chris' sake and society expect ME to go into therapy? What gives? In my case, it's completly useless and I'm sure it's useless for everyone else, maybe with the exception of the lil girl.

 

Brenda too, well I think her name is Brenda, sure doesn't give a shit about it. She gave in a nice prefab answer they all like to hear. As for lil girl, Tabby... I suck remembering names, she kept quiet which is all fine with me.

 

And then, here's Geekboy who decided to steal the show with a bad attempt to impress us. Nice grin thought. Finally, Thomas, who happens to be in the cell next to mine finally spoke up. He seems to be different from us as I think he genuinely feels regrets for what he had done. He could have gotten away from it but NOOO! He had to turn himself to the cops. And on top of that he looks like a cop. I think that, unlike us, he's not a f***** up as me or any of the others, as far as I can tell.

 

Then, my thoughts switches back at "femur guy" and the fact that his body will be waisted upsets me. The doctor notcied it.

 

- Is there anything you want to add?

 

- Yeah! It sucks that Femur guy's body will be waisted!

 

- Femur guy? You mean Jeremy. Forget about getting any body parts for whatever uses you make for them.

 

- At least, I can do anything CONS-TRUC-TIVE with cadavers, unlike these stupid therapies. It's not like I'll be going out of here soon. Not with a 800 plus years jail sentence. There's absolutly no point.

 

- Audrey, you'll go to my office after this session. I think there's a lot to discuss.

 

- Yeah sure... whatever!

 

Geez... get off my case you crazy b****!

[Sweetcherrie]

After I had told them all about how much I regretted everything, I stared at the little girl, and tried to figure out what bothered me so much about her. Maybe it was her silence. I’m a very extrovert person, and people that didn’t speak had always given me the itch. She had an innocent face, but I’d heard that she wasn’t innocent at all. Apparently she had slaughtered her whole family, and that at her young age. Maybe I just didn’t trust people that kept it all inside, even if they were this young. I should really try to get her to talk, but how would I do this?