Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Today's muse: Nothing specific ... I was just feeling a little creepy today.
* * *
"I don't know where to start, really." I sighed when there was no response. Maybe that was the point—the silence was intended to make me talk, prompt me to continue. Alright, I'll play along.
"I guess I'm really here for advice." I stared at the water-stained ceiling. The chocolate brown leather sofa was soft beneath me; it was the perfect length for reclining. I made a mental note to ask Dr. Sifton where she bought it.
"You see, I haven't been sleeping very well. I've been having these awful nightmares." I paused, not sure how much to divulge so early in our first session. "You did say that the client-patient confidentiality forbade you to divulge our discussions, didn't you?" I took her silence as confirmation. No doubt, she was eager to hear what I had to say and didn't want to distract me. I knew what she wanted me to tell her. I saw no need to disappoint her.
"I know the nightmares started after the first one. When I took the Evans girl and locked her in the basement, she screamed for hours. I was certain someone would hear, but we were never disturbed." I smiled ruefully. "Perhaps there is a God," I chuckled.
"It took hours to cut her into tiny pieces," I continued, "and almost 80 Ziploc freezer bags to dispose of all the portions." My lips curved remembering the metallic smell that hung in the air, the echo of crunching bone.
"When they found her, and the newspapers started writing about her…about me…" My heart had pounded when I read about it. People would talk, and they would remember. I was famous.
"Then I couldn't stop. I wanted more. So I continued. I've lost track of how many girls I've taken. It doesn't matter, really."
I picked at a loose thread on my shirt. "But the nightmares, Doc. They're driving me mad. And the only way to ease them is to kill more. You gotta help me!"
Behind me, a door opened, then closed. I heard someone—a woman, by the sound of the swishing skirt—sit down. Her smell was intoxicating. I immediately knew I had to have her.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, "Shall we get started?"