Standing in the rain. Feeling cool drops fall on my pale skin. It's relaxing, tranquil, freedom.
"This gets you nowhere." He tells me, holding an umbrella over himself and skinny figure.
I wanted his love, and yet I got nowhere. No, I wanted him to feel love.
"Does it matter? All I do is love, and yet I end up killing them." I hold my breath. There's nothing they can do, say, or think that can make me change my ways.
"Your problem is understandable. But the consequences are something you have to take care of yourself," he tells me briskly. The cold has gotten to him.
"All I can do is kill. Kill. Kill. No more, no less."
They understand I'm paranoid, that the apocalypse within the U.S. has gotten to me and I cannot trust anyone anymore.
"Would it be better if you loved me?" He asks, no fear in his voice. I look down at the brittle rusted knife in my hand and grip it tightly.
"Would it be better if I just killed myself? Took my face away from the world, so that everyone can live much more peacefully?" I ask.
"Come with me." He pulls at my sleeve. "And leave the knife here."
Leave a part of my life here, next to his grave. Next to her grave. I cannot cherish love, I cannot embrace it in my arms and keep it with me like a warm blanket. That's why I have this with me; the Feardriver, my one true love.
"May I hide it away?" I ask.
"Just don't use it tonight, and I won't have an issue with you staying over tonight." He put his hand in mine and grasped it tightly. "I trust you."
I give the gesture an okay, and squeeze his hand.
He takes me to his apartment. It's close be being as barren as the Sonoran Desert. 23 years old and is still single. Not so surprising. He takes of his damp coat, and hangs it on a bar stool. I leave my jacket on, I've gotten used to the cold feeling and the harsh prickling on my skin.
"The bathroom's over there on the left if you need it," He points in the direction. He turns on the kitchen lights and rummages through his pantry. I sit on the floor next to a recliner, staring at the blank TV.
He carelessly throws a towel at me, "Dry off." I pull if off of my head and slowly dry my face. I can resist listening to him, but doing so would only get me in trouble. I don't know what it is, but I don't really care to find out.
While cleaning out a bag of chips, he sits down in the recliner and turns the TV on. It's quiet for a few minutes, besides the annoying commercials that run on and on and on.... And....On...
"Why is this happening?" I ask.
"Because this world was made for war. Because this is what humans do." He says flatly. He pats my head with the hand that is clean of cheese powder.
"I'm a problem." I say.
He chuckles a bit, "I am a problem as well." He pulls a gun out of his back pocket and starts to check it.
I kill, he protects. we're on entirely different sides of the coin. He doesn't threaten people's lives and loved ones. No, his own loved ones... Like me.... A serial killer.... A bloodthirsty person....
He taps me on the shoulder, "Wake out of your trance."
I shake my head a little, then regain my awareness. I stand up and look at him darkly, "I'll go take a shower."
I stand in the shower, feeling like I did in the rain, but this time, it's warm. I've washed away all the blood that was on my hands, under my fingernails. A little bit in my hair. It was....soothing....
Yes, that was it. Soothing. Relaxing, more or less.
I don't like killing, but I do it anyways. I always cry in the end, when I know that really, I'm guilty, but feel entirely swallowed up by innocence. I try to control it, but become a miserable failure. It's to suppress my anger and insanity. If I keep myself all plugged up and "Under control", I'd never make it that far. He'd have to shoot me, he'd have no choice.
I sigh, and turn the shower off. Then the door swings open. I hide most of my body around the curtain, and stare at him blankly. He starts to blush furiously, "I need to take a piss."
"Whatever." I let the curtain fall back to where it was and start to twist my hair dry. I pull the towel off the hook and dry myself off.
"Would you like anything to eat?" He asks me. It's the wrong time to ask.
I wrap the towel around me and pull the shower curtain away, "And you don't ask that when I walk into your home?"
As I step out of the tub, the lights start to flicker off. I trip on the ledge of the tub. "Ah."
As gravity took its way, he was able to grab me before I feel down to the cold tile. "Again?"
I try to look up at him. "Once more, they cut the power."
"The infected." I ask.
The military needs electricity, a lot of it. to fight off all of those that have been infected and are attacking the capital. I hear the clinking noise of metal and then a flame appears and lights a candle. A lighter.
My eyes adjust and we both look at each other. He starts to turn red. I look down at my body and see that the towel fell off. "Oh."
He dodges his eyes away as I collect the towel from the floor and wrapped it around myself. "You were looking in the mirror."
He sighs, "I'm a guy, it's only natural."
"That doesn't mean anything." I tell him.
"Sorry." He says apologetically. He stands there for a second.
"Let go of me." I tell him.
"Oh." He releases his arms from me. "Wait here for a second." He holds his hands up, gesturing me to stay put.
Like I'm going anywhere. I sit there. In the dark. With nothing but a candle.
Darkness.... Darkness!.... Darkness?....Run.... NO.... Kill....
"No." I tell them.
Stay...Put......Love.....NO.....Darkness... Hide..... Sorry..... No, more.... Stop....
"Stop!" I yell.
There's a knock on the door.
I look up at the door, and I see that the lights have flickered back on.
"You alright?" He asks me.
I look around a bit. The darkness; it's gone. "I-I'm fine." I tell him.
"I brought you some clothes." He says.
"Okay." I say to him. I hear his footsteps walk away.
Insanity, I don't like it. Like I've said, I don't like violence. Nor death. However, I still kill. I still feel the guilt pulsing in my veins. I cannot run, because there's nowhere to go.
I sat back down on the floor next to him once more, he's slowly starting to fall asleep. The clothes he gave me area little baggy, but I don't mind. It's not like he's expecting to take care of me. It's not like I was expecting him to do anything, but hold a gun up at me.
He know's my problem. My issues, the crisis that I'm living in. I don't know what love is. He doesn't know what I've been through. They have though.
They scared me to death. How they used to threaten my life. Was it all necessary? To where I cried in the corner, with bloody hands.
They created this. This blood-thirsty demon within me. But I don't want that. I don't need that. It's not like this all didn't happen for a reason.
It's not like infected people would come running around threatening us. They don't know where we are. That's why I killed them. To protect them from what was going to happen. Not because they abused me when I was younger, but to save them from the world that would be.
Is that why?
"Why is it... That I constantly kill people? When I never intend to hurt them?" I ask him.
"Hm." He says tiredly. "I don't know. I'm not you. Only you have the answer to that question."
I look away into the corner. He's right.
But I don't know. I still don't know why I kill the ones that I love. It's like a curse. But everytime I do kill them, there's a sense of relief.
"Is there any new information?" I ask.
"No. Only that there are more that are coming back to life." He tells me.
I feel scared. No, worried. Maybe I didn't kill them. Maybe I failed to let them go to heaven. Or hell. Whichever one they happen to deserve to go to.
"Don't worry." I look up at him.
He looks at me a bit surprised. "Huh?" I pull out the Feardriver from the towel that he first gave me. I slide my finger down the dull side.
"She'll keep us safe." I tell him.
He smiles a bit. " You find knives alluring. I find shooting from a distance much more fun."
I hear something outside. Crying, maybe. We both sit quietly, seeing if it would continue. There's talking. Of people. I jump up and look out on of the curtained windows. There are the few dead bodies lying around, and a family of three walking around aimlessly. A toddler, a father, and a mother.
They look... Happy. No. More like... Lovely.
He looks out the window next to me. "Look at that."
"Give me your gun." I ask for his gun. I try to reach for it in his back pocket, but he moves the second I grasp for it.
"Why? I can promise you they aren't infected." He tells me.
"I have to..." I open the window and prepare to jump out.
"No." He grabs ahold of the collar of my shirt and pulls me back in his apartment. "You're not going to be killing more innocents. I've let you get with it three times, I'm not letting you kill once more."
I try to push him off, "You don't understand!" I scream. I can feel their eyes on me.
"And why is that?" He asks.
"Because I can't let them live any longer." I choke. His grip on my shirt is strong, and it's become really hard to breath.
"That's not a reason."
I kick him off of me, and jump through the window. I land down on the hard sidewalk, my ankles taking in the force. It doesn't bother me, I need to kill them.
I look at me sternly. The woman grips her baby tightly in her arms.
"Are you infected?" The man asks me.
"No." I tell him.
We stand in awkward silence. I can hear him run down the stairs to come after me.
"I have to." I say. I pull the feardriver out from behind my back.
They look at me hesitantly.
"What?" The woman asks.
"Honey, get back." The man says and pulls out a shotgun.
Pitiful. He uses that as a weapon.
"No! We leave and we run." She tells him.
I smile under the darkness. "Hehe. You can't run. You can never run." He holds his shotgun up at me. "Everybody has to run. But you can't go anywhere. You're going to possibly end up like me. Heartless. Insane."
"I'll shoot!" He yells at me.
"No. You won't." He says behind me. I turn my head and him. "You're not killing anyone. You know very well that it's not right to do such a thing when the country's in this state."
"Why are you stopping me?"
"Why shouldn't I? You don't realize the situation here do you?" He yells. He looks over calmly at the couple. "I'm sorry she's frightened you all. Especially the child. I'm her "guardian.""
They look at him a bit surprised. A lot more calm than what I've seen. "Who are you?" They ask.
"All you need to know is that I'm with the FBI and I'm doing my best to protect those who are left."
"Huh..." Is all they let out.
"Mouthful." I mutter. He turns to look at me.
"Shut up." He clears his throat. "Are you by yourselves?" He asks.
"Yes, our neighborhood was swallowed up by all the infected. Luckily, we made it out in time." The man lowers his gun at me at last. "I'm Michael. And this is my wife, Miranda, and our daughter, Sara."
"All I hear is blah blah blah." I mumble. He slaps me on the head.
I smile grimly. From now on, I'll just call them Thing 1 (Michael) Thing 2 (Miranda) and Thing (Sara). Not that I'll really be talking to them. Killing them, won't be the problem. I've canceled out names. If you really haven't noticed. Only because it requires so much effort. And of all the people I've met have had the same name as... Well, all of the rest that I killed...
Yes. Like him. And her.
"Hey." he pinches my arm.
"Huh?" I look at him dumbfounded.
"Behave yourself. That's all I ask." He puts a hand on my shoulder.
"All of their first initials are his initials." I tell him. I look away and put the Feardriver back into it's sheath in my back pocket.
He sighs, "I know." We all start walking back to the apartment.
"I don't feel guilty."
His eyes go wide, then he smiles gently. "I know you don't feel guilty. We have yet to figure out why you've done such things."
"Might as well take me to a mental facility when all of this is done." I say quietly.
"I don't think that even that would help. You seem mentally stable as weird as it happens to be. It's possibly all just emotional distress."
I look down at my hands. The hands of a killer. Fragile, petite hands that kill everyone. Suddenly, I get pulled in with one arm and get kissed on the temple. I look up at him, somewhat furious. "W-what was that?" I say stuttering.
"You're just too cute." He laughs.
Cute. That's a new one.
I sit in silence on the floor as the Thing cried endlessly. It's so beautiful. She's got rosy pink cheeks and a small nose. Hehe.
Other than that, I sat there very bored. I was cooped up in a room with more people than I'd ever want to be near. That's why I'm never a fan of the big city.
I can deal with him, because he's not on my nerves and he can't pester me as much.
I throw my knife around in my hand, catching it perfectly every time I flick it into the air as the light gleams off of it.
I found the Feardriver on the side of the road one day when walking home. I put it in my back pocket so that no kids would run around hurting themselves. I don't like seeing blood... Even if I imagined it was ketchup, that wouldn't be enough. When I got home, I sat on my bed and began carving random things into the handle. It was some degree a work of art, and some degree pure failure as well. I've kept it with me ever since. Or I'd usually put it in my bedside drawer, where I know that I'm the only one who can open it because I have the key. And I still do... In my back pocket with my sheath.
They kept talking on and on and on, sheesh. I'm not going to act like a child about it though. Nonetheless, I know that they won't go near me anyways because I'm still trying to kill them. I know I will at some point, but I somehow don't have the will to do so. I guess it's just me mentally refusing to do so, but physically, I just can't hold but from stabbing someone in the head with a knife.
I'm normal. I've surely had no normal life, but I've never considered doing something like this. I've wanted to at least get to college, but I know that I'm probably not going to get there. Especially the way things are now.
"What are you mumbling about?" Before I know it, he was right in front of me.
"Mumbling..." I say.
"Yes." He looks at me sincerely. "Go get some rest. My bed's in the back room."
"Where are you going to sleep?" I ask. "What about them?" I look over at their direction.
"They are going to be sleeping in the apartment across from us. And I am going to just rest on the floor or something to keep guard."
I have the feeling of doubt that he will last long when it comes to keeping guard. "Alright." As I turn my back to go into the back bedroom I can hear their footsteps as they leave to rest as well.
The hell is this? I think to myself. It's a freaking king size bed. Where on earth would you buy this? The real question is why would he need this big of a bed?
I really don't want to bother now. I pull myself under the covers, which are amazingly soft, which is very good because I happen to be picky. I pull the Feardriver out of my pocket and put it under my pillow, also very soft.
I close my eyes and try to fight off the darkness with something decent and bright. Okay, maybe not bright, but better than what the world looks like.
You may see blue skies and sunshine, but really, all the dead and infected bodies kills the idea of peaceful.
The damn light woke me up. I feel much more warmer than I should be. Slowly, I open my eyes.
I try harder to wake myself up.
I look, something's breathing on me. I push his head off of me. He's got me wrapped up in his arms. What am I, a teddy bear? I try to push off his arms that are clasped around me. It's more or less than difficult because he weighs quite a bit and I'm a little to light when it comes to muscle.
As I sit up, I look around the room and see that it's pretty bloody and vile.
My sense of smell has practically been eliminated for a while now, so I surely didn't smell any dead bodies.
I move my hand under the pillow and search around for it. It's gone.
Did he hide it from me? He better not have, because then I'd really kill him.
I then considered that he couldn't have because he know's what would happen if he did take it. I get off the bed then search around the room.
Pierced inside the head of one of the infected was Feardriver. How did you get over here? I pull it out gently and cautiously, making sure that nothing happens to come back to life.
I clean the blade with the hem of my shirt. Good as new. I look down the hallway and see a few more bodies and pools of blood everywhere on the carpet. I'm not expecting it to get cleaned up.
Did I sleep through all of this?
I look back at him, sleeping like a baby... What happened to staying on guard for the night? Be better if I do it instead, I'd at least stay up until morning.
I wonder if they're still there? Sleeping, would be better for me to take them out right now, while he's still sleeping of course. Once I take care of them, I won't have to worry so much. And it's not like he can do so much afterwards either.
I look over at him and his innocent looking face. To see it look like that, it's so cute. But enough about cute, it would be better if I took care of them now, to finish them off.
I get off of the floor. I wonder why I still consider trying to kill them. They even have a child...
I try to screw my head back on in the right direction. The child, how in the Hell am I going to kill a kid? A BABY? Do I even have the will to do such a thing?
No, it's important that I have to... I have to trust myself that I can do this... Yeah, I can do this... I think...
The front door is wide open, so I wouldn't have to worry much about waking him up. All I have to do is just kick down the other one...
I walk out the front door and stand in front of theirs... I put my hand on the doorknob, cold and icy in my grip. I twist it, and it happens to be opened.
They don't want me to kill them, yet they leave the door open for anyone? Intelligence; not so many people have it.
I play with Feardriver in my hands, spinning the raw knife in my hand.
Of all things, there place is much more cleaner. No blood on the floor, certainly no dead bodies... At least not yet. The apartment is just a mirror of his. I walk down the hallway and look around to see if anyone happens to be awake. The two of them sleep on the bed, while the baby just rests in it's stroller.
Of all the things that I need to take care of, I don't know which one to kill first. The parents or the child. I cannot decide. Of all the things I could do, eenie meenie miney mo on them. Or rock-paper-scissors. Flip a coin. Roulette.
Any of these could work.
I try to get back on topic, and think of taking care of them.
I could use a gun and take care of them both while they're still sleeping. And finish the baby off. But It'd be too loud. I could muffle it with a pillow. But the only pillow that I can use is the one on his bed that he's currently using.
And where would I get the gun. I know he has one, but I don't know where he put it. I could use Thing 1's gun. But it's a shotgun. It would be loud, and would require a bit of effort.
A 'combo kill' maybe? I could kill Thing 1 and Thing 2 with the shotgun and take care of Thing with Feardriver. It's the best course of action, and quick too.
I look around the room. And convey my plan.
I skip over to the shotgun, luckily, it's already loaded. Feardriver's in my back pocket.
I take a breath... And start.
Hammering the gun back, I don't even try to aim, and shoot Thing 1 first. The loud bang rings in my ear, and everyone else's as well. Thing 2 wakes up suddenly, and I aim down at her next.
Thing's crying and blood is going everywhere. I pull out Feardriver. And throw it behind me, taking care of the crying. Leaving nothing but silence.
I breath, then drop to my knees and hurl over. Tears run down my cheeks.
Footsteps come toward me, and I wait for it. I'm unarmed, so he can do anything he'd like. I wait for the excruciating pain to hit my head. For the bullet to smash through my skull and leave a hole implanted in my brain.
Instead he kneels in front of me.
And pats my head.
I don't dare look up at him. I'd be looking into the eyes of the devil. No, into the eyes of a god, that knows that I'll never belong in this world.
I don't fear him and his glare, I despise his gleaming eyes that will show my fate.
I sit there and my shoulder haunch over. I continuously sob.
"I'm not going to say anything that's surely going to put you into a worse state." He says to me.
I don't want to hear a word from him.
I clench Feardriver in my hand, pushing the pain away and into the blade itself.
"I'll take you to Dr. Feldman."
"NO!" I grab his wrist as he stands up. "Don't you dare take me to that freak!" I was forced to look into his eyes pleadingly.
He looks down at me flatly.
"He's more than insane! He's sadistic as hell. Have you not seen the grin he has every time he puts me in that chair?"
His eyes become narrower as he looks at me with tears creating rivers down my face. Then he sighs, "Fine. I'll take you to him, but I won't let him put you in the chair or anything that you find unpleasant." I continue to sit there. "Give yourself a breather as I go get the car."
I sit there. Not giving a damn about the pain that I just gave. I'm more concerned about the promise he just made. About keeping me away from the chair. And everything else in that room that bothers me.
I'm more concerned about giving someone the pleasure to let them see pain and enjoy it while they scream in terror.
I promise, I'm not insane. I'm not crazy. I'm just...
It was a dead car ride all the way up to D.C. I kept my eyes out the window, refusing to look at him and his worried glare. It wasn't that I hated him and just resented to look at him, but if I look into those eyes, I'll see something that I don't want to even give a thought of.
I'm not sure what his feelings are for me, but I really don't want to find out. If it ends up being love... No, I don't want to even consider it. He happens to be important to me.
Goodness, there aren't' as many dead bodies lying around. But, it's not like there's just living people standing around either.
We were able to get to headquarters in a hour, which is good. Because I don't like car rides. I don't like traveling.
"Need me to get you some coffee?" He asks me.
"You know I hate caffeine." I tell him, sitting with my knees up to my chest on the couch.
"You haven't eaten at all this whole week." He glared at me.
"Your fasting, aren't you?" He scootches over closer to me. "I'm not going to let you do that."
"And how exactly would you do that?" I question.
"Well, I knock you out. I shove one of those feeding tubes down your throat, and you wake up when I tell the nurses that you're allowed to."
"I'll kick you in the gut if you dare consider doing that." I look at him bleakly.
"I'll be sure to dodge it." He smiles at me.
I hear those heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. I feel like I should kill him. But I know that I don't have a reason to do such a thing. "Ms. Lindell," he smiled.
"Dr.Gimondi." He held my shoulder down. He knew I wanted to run. Or at least, to look away from him.
"It's been awhile since I've seen here. How's she been doing?" That grimace, I don't like it. It's the smile of a madman. Of insanity.
"She just killed a family of three, along with their toddler." He had a bit of darkness in his eyes as he said it. I don't know if it was supposed to be for me or for Dr.Gimondi.
"Poor thing." He scratched at his chin. He was referring to me, not the toddler. "Let's go to my office and we'll talk about it then."
I don't like his office, it's all perfect and neat and there's clean line's everywhere. Proving that he is hiding his insanity.
To some very small degree, I am insane, we all are as human beings. And I know that when everything looks perfect, there's something that you try to hide. It's like a person who smiles everyday. They look like the perfect person, but they conceal a deep and dark burden with them.
"So, Ms.Lindell, how are you doing?" He asks me of the simplest questions.
"Don't you dare start a conversation off like that." I growl.
"Hehe, alright. Sorry, didn't mean to push a button there." He tried to smile it off.
"Hell, right you did." I look at him flatly.
His fingers started to rap on the desk. " So I've been told that you killed a family recently. Along with a child."
"How do you feel about that?"
"What are you, a psychologist?" I ask.
"No, merely a man who loves to understand the human mind. Yours in particular." He says without a single emotion.
I looked out the window, nothing much but grey clouds. "Your a nut. Do you think you'll understand my mind when I can barely understand it myself?"
"I have a doctorate-"
"Well I have a knife," I interrupt him. "You and your doctorate can go join the rest of them because I promise you, you will never understand my ways of thinking and what runs around in my mind, because I don't even know myself."
He sighs, he obviously doesn't like my response. "Your being quite foolish, dear." I hold the arms rails in my hands tightly. "You don't seem to understand what can become of you if you let me in on what goes on." He stands up. "You could help many people who could possibly have the same problem as you. You could help the world become sane again."
I feel like punching him in the jaw. This world will never be sane. No matter how hard you try to burn people, they'll always come back again, unless you kill it from the source.
Like those infected, you can only surely kill them if you stand their heads, and destroy the brain. The root of the problem. I core of survival.
"Unless." He says.
"Unless?" I look up at him, behind those glasses were the bright red of his soul. An insane, mad, soul that possibly cannot be fixed.
"Unless... You choose to be like me. A person who wants to actually continue this world with insanity. You and I can assist each other in a world where insanity is the key to survival. Without that insanity, no one can possibly live like me. Or like you."
I grin. "Now you're being foolish."
His eyes go wide.
"You don't seem to understand how far you can take insanity. There is a limit to how far you can go with such a thing. With such a feeling. There are those like us, who are crazy, or are just wondering how they become the insane and misunderstood being. Did you know I'm not insane. I'm a little mad here and there."
"And what data provides that you are not insane?" He asks.
"My brain. I don't understand much of it, but I do know for a fact that I'm not crazy like you."
"You were beaten as a child. Don't you think that that has correlation to you madness?"
"Nope." I pop the 'p'. "That only made my mind age faster, to understand things in a much quicker fashion."
"You've been lonely without a single friend." He suggests.
"That gave me time to think of things and to understand how I did things in that fashion. And it left me at more peace." I nod. "I know what you plan to do." I tell him.
"And what is that?" He asks.
"You want to stuff me in that electric chair. And see my eye's scream in agony while I sit there in silence." He's quiet. "That's why you're always so nice to me. You always butter your patients up with sweet and kind words until you show them that chair. Your sadistic."
"Sadistic am I?" He let out a breath. "You really get me going. I guess you're right." He walks around behind me in my seat. Then he grabs ahold of my wrists. "Don't resist as much and I won't turn the amps on too high. Alright?"
"Go to hell!" I scream, and resist in his clasp.
"Alright. .07 amps it seems." He whispers in my ear.
"No!" I yelled. I wanted to scream for his name, but my voice was refusing. He's my last resort, he even promised me he wouldn't let this happen. I screamed his name.
"About time you actually called for him. First time I've actually heard his name escape your lips." He laughs.
He ran in just in time, He had the voltage up to .18 amps in his mind. That was enough for nervous system damage.
"Let her go." He holds his hand up to stop him.
"Why? I think she looks pretty when she sits in such a chair. Isn't that right?" He breathes heavily.
"Let her go now, Gimondi!" He yells. He sighs, "I either shoot you, or she takes care of you herself."
"Huh?" He looks at him confused.
"Like I said, she killed a family of three. Less than half a second when she was finished. Killed seven other people behind them. I don't think you want to be next on her list." He smiled.
I give him a wry look. "You can be as insane as you'd like, but you're never going to win. Not with putting me in that chair or making this world crazy."
He laughs, "I don't mind dying. I think it's fun, I want to see what the other side of life looks like. And even if you do shoot, what are your chances of actually killing me instead of her?"
"Pretty slim." He jokes. "But then again, I can shoot a fly off the wall." He points his gun behind him and aims for the small dark bead on the wall. I would've killed it in a heartbeat if I've seen it earlier. He pulls on the trigger and the loud bang goes off.
There's a small hole in the wall, and no fly buzzing around.
"I think I can take care of you from this far." He points the gun back at Dr.Gimondi with a cocky look on his face.
His finger tightens around the trigger. I close my eyes. Then there's another bang that goes off. Then there's dead weight on my shoulders. And then the feeling of warmth going down my neck. Dr. Gimondis body falls to the ground with a heavy thud. There's the bullet hole in his forehead.
I look at him displeasingly. "I know that only you could kill him."
"Yeah, I was getting the feeling that you wouldn't make the move anyways."
A few more people from the FBI Department run into the room. "What's going on."
"It seemed that Dr.Gimondi was having a little too much fun." He laughs with a huge smile.
"What the hell are you talking about Feldmann? You just killed Gimondi." One of them, I think I higher up, yells.
"Well, he was trying to kill her. Didn't anyone of you hear her screaming?"
"No." A multitude of people nodded their heads.
"These rooms are all soundproof." One of them slaps the wall.
"Well. You all are really incompetent fools then." I glance away.
"Hey," on of the agents gesture to me. "What's Lindell doing here? Isn't she supposed to be in jail?"
"No, I'm more or less her parole officer. If anything, her guardian to some degree."
"No your not. You're just watching out for me." I state.
"Yeah, but I'm still in charge of you." He looks to me.
"Nonetheless, why is Gimondi dead, and a girl who should be in jail here?"
"Gimondi, my friend, tried to kill my parolee here, and if I'm positive." He gestures to me. "Where's this "electric chair" you've told me about?"
"Wait, electric chair?" A few of them murmur.
I look over at the familiar bookshelf and move a few books around. I've been in that chair so many times, I've memorized everything in that room and how to enter the room. I just move the Encyclopedia E over to the left of the Encyclopedia Q and flip Encyclopedia A upside down.
The shelve moves itself on small, unnoticeable rails.
"What is this?" Someone from behind asks.
"A room that was never in use because some ironic contractor of a fool forgot to add a place for a door." I tell him.
"How would you know that?" He asks me.
" I learn, and I understand. And if you were to overhear us, I think quite a bit."
The shelve moves out of the way, and there sits that damn chair. And along the windowless walls, quite a bit of death machines.
A few people crawl into the room with me. I can smell the burning of electricity, and a bit of flesh and burning hair. Everyone surrounds the chair.
"It looks like a normal foldable chair." One of them scratches his head.
"Really?" I go to the corner of the room and flip up a cover that revealed a voltage box.
"How is this an electric chair?" He asks me.
"Try moving it." I tell him.
He kicks it, and it doesn't move. "Ow?"
"Thought so." I twist a knob and turn the amps up too .01. "Would you like to test it?"
"Why the hell would we want to?" They all say simultaneously.
I sigh. I'm surrounded by a bunch of pansies. It's a little depressing to see so many people here acting so afraid of such a thing. I walk up to it and place my finger on the arm rest.
I flinch a little, feeling the small shock go through me. This thing's been up to ten amps with me, so such a small number couldn't bother me much.
I let my finger off the cold metal. I feel a little dizzy though.
"You okay?" He pats my back.
"I'm not dead, now am I?" I tell him.
The rest of my time was wasted on everyone chattering to themselves and wondering why I hadn't told anyone beforehand, or at least... After I got shoved into that thing the first time. I told them that there are secrets and I really didn't feel comfortable talking to anyone. Nonetheless, Dr.Gimondi said that if I told a single soul, he'd start cutting my fingers off while I was still in the chair.
And I didn't want that to happen, otherwise I wouldn't be able to hold Feardriver. Also, he'd know that I'd lose my fingers in an instant and would start questioning him about it.
Even after that, Dr.Gimondi would come up with some excuse that I did that in terms of self harming. It would've been better if he just pushed me out the window and say I committed suicide. Afterall, it's a better way to take care of me instead of cutting my fingers off and leaving a lot of questions in place.
Once all the commotion was done for, we finally got to go and leave the crowded area. I still wonder if his was right about my insanity. I'm not crazy. No, not mentally insane. Maybe...Weird? I don't know. I've been a peculiar child, not really acting like anyone else my age.
"Can I ask you something?" He leans against his desk, rubbing his eyes. Possibly in tiredness.
I nod my head.
"Is there some reasoning to why you kill the people you love? Or at least were in love with? Like Dr.Gimondi."
"I never loved him." I look at him intently. "He was creepy as Hell. I killed him because he was actually going to bump up the amperage to the point where I would probably be having nervous spasms. Or be dead."
"Everybody else though, you had some form or bond with them that possibly placed love. Or possibly had good tie with." He pulled out my file, such a small and flimsy one in a huge filing cabinet. Other's have been stuffed to the brink with paperwork and information. "Like Xavier. You had a relationship with him, and you killed him."
"He was my ex though."
"Your friend, Caroline."
I remained silent.
"You family, including your mother, father, two sisters, and one brother."
I put my elbows on my knees and hid my head in my hands.
He sighs. He put me in a terrible state now. "I'm not doing this to tick you off or get you upset. It's just that there's some correlation that they have to you and it doesn't make any sense as to why you'd kill them."
"I don't know why, okay? It just happens to be that way." My voice trembles.
"The only thing that they have in correlation with each other is that they were killed after the news of the infection started to spread." He starts to rub my back. "You killed your family first."