Hey, come on. The coast is clear, as they say. All right...all right...let’s see, ah! Here we are, evidence locker 7-A. Let me get the key out, wait until you see this. What? Oh man, will you chill out? I told you, nobody comes in here this time of night. Ok, here it is. Yeah, a tape recorder. Kind of dusty, isn’t it? I’m going to hit play. (Lapping sounds, otherwise, silence). Woops, looks like we got to rewind it first. (Fast whirring of tape being rewound). Ok, now it should play.
(Silence for three or four seconds, dead air).
Mrs. Williamson, I would like to reaffirm that you have given me permission to tape this session, do you give me permission?
Yes. (Said meekly, so soft that it’s barely audible).
A little louder, please, Mrs. Williamson.
Yes. (A little louder, but still soft).
Ok, and for the record, I am your court-appointed therapist, Dr. Bradley, and this is session one of your mandated therapy. How are you feeling today, Mrs. Williamson?
(No answer for a long time). Fine. (Once again, barely audible).
(A sigh, most likely out of frustration). Mrs. Williamson, please, you’ll have to speak up in order for the tape recorder to get your voice. Maybe if you take your fingers out of your mouth, you could speak more clearly.
(A pause, some movement.)
Okay, Mrs. Williamson, we might as well cut to the chase. Tell me about that night, when you found your son murdered.
(Sobbing). He wasn’t murdered, he did it himself!! (So loud, completely different from the woman’s earlier tone).
Calm down, Mrs. Williamson. I apologize. Please tell me what happened.
(More sobbing, the light rustle of clothes or possibly tissue paper). I...I don’t know if I can. If only I hadn’t been so tired, I could have...I don’t know, maybe...
It’s all right, please tell me when you’re able, and please, take your fingers out of your mouth.
(Another long pause, more sobbing, somebody clears their throat, followed by a cough. There is another space of fifteen seconds or so of silence). I didn’t know anything was wrong with him. I mean, I saw changes in his behavior...
Well, he was more moody, more depressed. Wouldn’t say too much. But I thought it was just something he was going through, you know? Maybe something went bad at school, or a girl he asked out rejected him, how was I supposed to know? And he would never look me in the eyes, and I mean never...as if he was avoiding my gaze on purpose. And then...and then...it seemed like he couldn’t get enough to eat. I mean, anything and everything. Cakes, snacks, vegetables, leftover spaghetti, frozen meat patties, for God’s sake!! I couldn’t stop him; it was like he was possessed. (More sobbing).
But he did stop, eventually?
When I ran out of food, when there was nothing left in the cupboards or the refrigerator. He told me he was starving...I told him that I would get more food tomorrow, and also get him checked out with a doctor. I thought...maybe some form of tapeworm, or something? Anyway, it was getting late as it was, and he went to his bedroom to get some rest. I was exhausted, mentally drained by anxiety over what was happening. I laid down, and I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow...
You’re doing good, Mrs. Williamson, please go on.
I woke up in the middle of the night; it was dark...that’s all I know...there was this sound, coming from his room...
(Silence, more rustling).
What kind of sound?
Like a...like a...munching sound...but sloppy, kind of the way a dog eats...wet, and I thought I heard...I thought I heard crying... (Crying).
Is that what you heard, like chewing sounds?
Yes, and a kind of tearing, like somebody ripping strands of paper apart. I thought he was doing something in his room, like a project or something, I told him to get some sleep...I think I told him to get some sleep...the next thing I knew...it was morning...
And you went to check on him?
(Pause, most likely nodding). After he didn’t respond to my call. I wasn’t really worried, considering he’d been up all night, thought he was just getting some rest. But, when I went into the room...when I went into the room...OH GOD!!
(The scream is so loud, there is a jostling sound as somebody, presumably the therapist, knocks over the tape recorder, then sets it back in place. There is a cough). Yes, Mrs. Williamson? Please tell me what you saw.
THE BLOOD!! OH GOD, THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD!! IT WAS ALL OVER THE FLOOR, ALL OVER THE WALLS!! HIS MOUTH...IT HAD NO TONGUE!! HE HAD EATEN IT AFTER HE CHEWED HIMSELF UP!! SO MUCH DAMN BLOOD, RUNNING OUT OF HIM IN STREAMS!! HIS SKIN, SHREDDED LIKE PAPER, LIKE AN ANIMAL ATTACKED HIM!! HE ATE HIMSELF...HE FUCKING ATE HIMSELF!!
Now, Mrs. Williamson, I know this has been tragic for you, but you must try to calm...
BUT THE WORST PART WAS HIS EYES!! THEY WERE STILL ALIVE, I KNOW THEY WERE, BECAUSE I SAW THEM MOVE...THERE WAS THIS GLEAM IN THEM, LIKE A LIGHT GOING ON AND OFF...ON AND OFF...ON AND OFF...LIKE A...LIKE A SIGNAL!!!
(A rattling sound). Mrs. Williamson, I’d like you to take some of these, they’ll help you steady your nerves a bit, so we can...
That gleam... (Whispering now, hissing). Just like the one you have, right now!! I see that gleam, I know what it means!!
(Another jostling sound as the recorder is knocked over, the sound of something bigger thumping down next to it).
MRS. WILLIAMSON!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!! PLEASE STOP, NO!! NO!!!
(The sound of struggling, followed by a ripping sound, then a loud slurping noise. There is a chewing noise, teeth clicking loudly against one another, and sporadic gulping. The creaky sound of a door is distantly heard in the background).
Dr. Bradley, oh my God!! Oh my God!! (The voice is tinny, but the panic in it is easily recognizable as the door is slammed shut.)
(Twenty minutes of chewing, slurping, gulping, a tearing sound, a rough snapping, more chewing, more slurping, more gulping. Several loud bubbling belches. The creaking of the door as it opens again).
Ma’am, this is the police!! Put down the...put down the arm...and step away from the body!! (Silence, more chewing). Do you hear me? (Closer now). I said step away from the...
(A loud, piercing, maniacal scream, and then a shuffling sound. Two loud bangs that can only be gunshots. Silence. Heavy breathing.)
(Silence, lapping sound, then a click as the recorder is shut off).
Didn’t I tell you that shit was weird? You don’t look so good, you’re all pale. You want to get something to eat, I’m starving. Hey...where you going?