No Clues or Leads

“Ok, Mr. Tyler,” sighed the investigator, he was getting very weary of this case. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

                A young man sat opposite of the investigator in the white room. He was about average height, with a thin face, mousy hair, and light blue eyes. From what the investigator could tell, he wasn’t at all shaken up from the events that had passed through his life in the past week. His air of superiority was almost nauseating. No wonder he kept his nose high up in the air; to keep from having to smell it.

                “I don’t know what more you want from me, sir,” he replied. “The victim was in my geology class. I thought she was annoying, and the teacher liked to exploit that. I tried not to have anything to do with her.”

                “You said the teacher liked to exploit your dislike of the victim?” asked the inspector.

                “Yes,” Tyler was tired was being here, he wasn’t going to be worth anything pretty soon.

                “How?” asked the inspector, he had to juice him like an orange. Get all the information he could before the trail dried up. This mad man had no place in this society, or this life for that matter.

                “He would always try and pair the two of us up for lab assignments, or when he would ask a question, he would try to push the two of us into a debate,” the boy scoffed. “I hated that class.”
                “But,” asked the inspector, “Doesn’t that promote active learning?”

                “Hey man,” said the boy. “I was just there for the credits. I don’t actually give a shit about geology.”

                “You got an A in the class,” said the inspector.

                “And?” he asked.

                “Never mind,” the investigator rubbed his eyes. This was the fourth interview he had conducted today. He hated this part of the job. Why couldn’t he just be out on the streets looking for clues? Beating the shit out of the creep downstairs? Running fingerprints? Anything besides this.

                “Take me back to the day of the abduction,” said the investigator.

                “Well,” the boys took a drink of his coke. “There’s not much to tell. We had just started class and this man in a suit walked in. He asked to speak with her in the hallway. And then she was gone. Totally uneventful. No one thought any more of it.”

                “Ok,” said the inspector. “You my leave.”

                “Thank you,” was the reply, and within seconds the youth was out the door.

                The inspector put his elbows on the table and cupped his face in his hands. Fuck you, college career advisor. You told me nothing about having to do several interviews. Talking to so many people. So many stupid people. And I still have to go to the nursing home and talk to the grandma. He slammed his fist on the table and pushed his chair out to leave. He just wanted this case to be over. He had the confession. He had the body. He had the motive. Just no evidence.

                He killed her in an apartment that he didn’t belong in, with weapons that he didn’t own. He didn’t leave any DNA at the scene. No witnesses of the abduction, rape, or murder.

                If it weren’t for the terrified young couple that found the victim’s body in their apartment, or the fact that an incredibly intoxicated man stumbling around on the sidewalk below shouting out for the world to hear that he killed the girl, the inspector would have nothing to go on. The only physical lead that was actually present was the evidence of stalking found in his apartment. He was fully confident that he could get him with a jury on the stalking and confession. But a death sentence? Never. The best thing that could happen would be if the shrink could get him locked up in a loony bin for the rest of his life. Things were not looking very bright. Not at all.

                He walked out of the interview room and down the hall into the observation room. It was empty, of course. Everyone else had better things to do, than listen in on some mediocre interview with some mediocre kid. God. This was the pits.

                He walked over the table where he had laid out his notes before each session. The teacher, the best friend, the neighbor, and the classmate.

                He had learned a lot about the victim tonight. She was an orphan who grew up with her grandmother, according to the best friend. She was great in school, according to the classmate and the teacher. The neighbor said she would always be willing to help out. From old pictures, she was a very attractive young lady. He autopsy on the other hand, didn’t really help him out as much.

                He neatly stacked all of his notes together and placed them in his folder and crammed it in his already over stuffed backpack. He had a nice briefcase at one point, but the amount of paperwork that he had to cart around on a regular basis forced him to convert to a backpack. It felt like he was back in school. He slung the fifty pound sack on his back and walked back across the room. He checked his watch, 7:45pm. There was no time to see the grandma tonight. He flipped the switch and walked back into the hallway. He had to get back to the shrink and report on his findings.

                That was very unconventional, to team up with a psychologist. However, if he wanted to make sure that the creature that they had locked up downstairs was headed to death row, he had no other choice. They had to get rid of him. Even if it was the last thing they ever did. Mr. Brooks will never hurt anyone, ever again.

To Catch a Princess

               It was a hot summer day. The high of the day was one-oh-three according to the slut on the weather channel. But she was a lying whore. It had to be at least four-hundred degrees. I tucked my finger underneath the edge of my collared shirt. I had to look professional today. I glanced over at the black suit jacket that lay on the seat next to me: professional. I looked up at the rearview mirror. I had saved my head for the occasion and put on some self-tanner, colored contacts, face teeth, and of course, a body suit that made me look just a little bit heftier than I actually was. Texas was like hell. And I am Satan. Trapped in my pit. And you will be too, my love.

                I pulled the car around the block and followed the two girls down the street. My target. I had been following her for several weeks now. She didn’t know it though. That’s how I liked it. The surprise of the catch. The thrill of the case. My love is like a wild cat, baby: it’s coming to get you.

                I quickly reached over to my glove compartment and pulled out a travel sized bottle of lube and squeezed some on my right hand. I had to get ready. With my free hand, I quickly unzipped my black, dress slacks and pulled out my dick.

“Oh god, yes,” I moaned to myself as I watched the girls walk down the sidewalk.

                This was the life, I thought, as I covered my shaft and head with the lubricant and began to pump.

“Soon,” I chuckled. “Soon you will be mine, and I will be yours. Oh shit!”

                I was coming too soon! I had to calm down. I was going to ruin everything! Every, fucking thing! I had this planned out for weeks now. I had memorized her schedule, I know all of her friends, I know her enemies, and I know her heart. She is perfect. And I will find pleasure in the real artifact soon enough. I had to be patient. Patience is a virtue. So is lust. So is Love.

                The girl walking next to my love was playing on her phone. Her bright red hair was like a waterfall of brimstone, rippling down her back. She was beautiful, to say the least, but I didn’t want her. I wanted the girl who had occupied my thoughts for the past seven weeks, five days, three hours, 26 minutes and counting. She was the only thing that mattered to me. And today was the day my queen came home to her castle.

                They neared the school the girls attended. The local community college: a quaint place. It was a place for back to school moms and grandmas, high school drop outs, poor people, and the like. People trying to get a fresh start into the boring life of the “Nine to five”, weekends off, and paid vacations. They make me sick. What’s it going to matter in fifty years? One-hundred years? One-thousand? It won’t! They will get a piece of paper giving them a wider selection of people to boss them around.

They are sheep. No. They are like cows. Cows in need of the farmer. A farmer in need of a butcher. I am the butcher. But, I’ll convert to Hindi for that flower strutting down the sidewalk. She can be saved. Only her. Everyone else can burn. Well, she will eventually, and so will I. But that’s why I must save her. She must be saved from the back to school moms, authority, diplomas, cows, fire, and being just a face in a sea of faces. She is special. She is mine.

I put the car into park and watched them walk up the steps into the physical science building.  Her dark hair waved in the breeze. That’s a lie! There was no breeze. There is no breeze in Hell. Only me, and my lover, and the sinners that burn around us.

I had to wait for class to start. She was always early to class. Always. No exceptions. I had to wait. I looked down at the clock: 8:58. That’s plenty of waiting. I had to get her now. I didn’t think that my cock could handle the wait any more. I had to pee. I had to poop. I could feel the adrenolin jolt through my system as I slowly grabbed the key in the ignition.

I turned the key off, slipped my dick back into my pants, opened the door, grabbed the suit coat and stepped out of my car. Now was the time. I pulled the jacket on, adjusted the buckles on my shoes and began walking up the steps, following after my beloved. I made sure to step exactly where her precious feet had been just moments before. I reached the top of the steps and checked my watch, 9 o’clock. She would be just sliding into her seat at this moment. I had to recuse my princess from this dragon of a castle. She shouldn’t have to be here any longer. I will save her. I have to. I am Satan, and I spare whom I choose.

I pulled out the pair of blue latex gloves I kept in my pockets and slid them on my hands. Not that I think the police would be able to pull a print off of these disgusting knobs, but just a precaution. I don’t like door knobs anyway. I don’t personally have any at my house. I don’t see why they’re necessary. They are simply a hassle.

I quietly closed the door behind me as I entered the building. It was a small building that held the physics, astronomy, and geology lecture halls and labs. It was single floored, with the doors on the left hand side leading to the different lecture halls; and on the right, were the lab rooms. Shame, I wasn’t in a biology or chemistry lab, things could have been so much fun! All those sharp object, chemicals, and bones, it would have been a playground.

The building was old. The floors creaked as I walked across their tattered faces. The dust was still fresh in the air. Damn Mexicans. Cobwebs were decorating all the corners of the hall way, and the only sounds were those that echoed from down the hall, where the geology lab was located; probably, an equally old professor that was calling role.

I held my breath. Maybe I could hear him call out my beloved’s name! The suspense was almost too much.

I was beginning to regret to regret not ejaculating in the car before I came in. The pain had begun to increase with every step I took. I looked down at the present for my princess and my chest filled with pride. The best mother fucking cock in the whole world. I reached down and patted it. My pet. I whispered to it, “Not to worry, I will find you some fresh meat very soon.”

I neared the geology room door and quickly took of my blue gloves and stuffed them into my pockes, straitened my suit coat, and brushed off my britches. I had to look the part, or she wouldn’t take the bait. She had to take the bait. My tongue slid across the front of my teeth and stopped to stroke each of my canines. I was ready.

I let out a deep breath and shook my arms. I had to poop. I raised my hand and curled my fist and knocked hard on the door. This was it. Here I come, my love.

The Bars that Contain and Free Me

Cage.

I’m nothing but a caged animal to them.

Whores.

What do they want from me?

A show?

A parade?

A mother fucking, god damned circus!?

Whores!

I need deodorant.

The walls need paint.

Nobody likes white walls.

White walls are for middle class, stay at home, soccer moms.

Soccer moms who are fucking the post man part-time.

White.

White walls, white floor, white soccer moms, and their white lovers.

Pure.

Clean.

Lies.

White only stains so much faster.

Blood on snow.

Blood on a white dress.

Blood on a white body of the pretty girl next door.

Who’s fucking the post man.

Whores.

All of them.

I hate whore.

I love them.

I am one.

I am Satan!

I stood up from the bed and took a turn around the room.

Jane Austin-like.

She was white.

She also died.

Like a lot of people.

They are white and then they die.

I need some deodorant!

I walk over the bars of my circus bear cage.

Rawr!

I bang on the cage.

One of the clowns walk over to me, “What do you want?”

“Deodorant!” I scream back.

The man gives me a half smile, looks me over and says, “Too bad.”

I slam my hand against the bars.

Pain.

Pleasure.

They are the same.

They are mine.

I go back to pacing.

I feel the bruises on my wrists.

Blood.

Purple blood.

If only I could find the purple blood.

I love it.

Pleasure.

I walked over to the white walls.

Purple blood would be so beautiful on those walls.

The pure walls.

The church’s walls.

The blood of the Lamb on the white walls of the church that love him in the daylight, but then turn around in the darkness and worship me.

Satan.

Whores.

Desecrating the temple.

Selling their bodies on the streets for me, but giving the profit to God.

I want the money.

I want the people.

Come to the darkness my followers!

No one can see the filth, no one can see the sorrow, no one can see your troubles!

Just dance with me!

Dance with me in the dark!

The blind cannot judge.

There is only tolerance!

Give me the glory!
Give me the profit!

No strings attached!

I walked back over the “bed”.

More like a cot.

I pace over the far side of the cell and squat in the corner.

I need to find the blood.

The blood.

That will show them.

I make a tear in the fabric hiding the metal springs inside.

I slowly worked my way through the stuffing and pried out one of the precious articles.

I could feel the tremors start to crawl their way around my body.

Like scarabs, right under the skin.

I could feel their legs shuffle around underneath the surface.

Goosebumps rose up on my flesh as I slowly began to undress in the middle of the cell.

My clothes fell in a heap on the floor and the draft made the little hairs on my arms and neck stand strait up.

I uncoiled the spring and fashioned it for the most support.

I pressed my warm body against the cold wall.

“Come to me my followers,” I breathed. “Come and worship. Come and dance. Come and die.”

I pressed the sharp end of the spring to the top of my wrist, held my breath, and sliced into my white flesh.

I let out a shallow breath and pressed harder.

I could feel the adrenaline flush my body and I let out a moan.

I could feel my cock throbbing, pressed into the white wall.

I groaned as the metal tore through my skin.

I traced my forearm all the way down to my elbow.

The blood already encased my arm.

My eyes were held shut.

Fear.

What if it wasn’t purple?

It has to be.

I am Satan.

I ripped out the wire that was jammed in my flesh and dropped it on the floor.

With my eyes still shut I traced the cut with my fingertips.

I could see flashes of red underneath my eyelids as the cut screamed out to my touch.

I control the pain.

I pressed my four fingers against the cut.

I gasped as I could feel the precum eject from my hard on.

I shifted my hips around to smear it all over the wall and my abdomen.

I gritted my teeth and forced my fingers into the slit on my arm.

They curled and uncurled underneath my skin.

I began to shake as sweat began to bead up on my forehead and back.

I bit my lower lip.

They sank into the tender flesh and I could taste the salty liquid enter my mouth.

I laughed nervously and pulled my fingers out of my forearm.

I traced words across the white wall.

I am god.

Serve me.

Love me.

My muscles began to spasm and I fell onto the floor.

Blood filled my mouth and began to run down my throat. I traced my abdomen with the blood that was left on my fingers.

I was choking.

Shit.

They’re going to find me.

I shoved my fingers into my mouth and down my throat.

I’ve got to escape.

I have to leave.

They cant have me any longer!
My fingers crawled down my throat.

I gagged.

I leaned over on my side, away from the bars.

I threw up on the floor.

Eyes shut.

I’m Satan.

Love me.

Escape.

Blood.

Love.

Hate.

Pain.

Pleasure.

“OH my god! Mr.Brooks?! Help! Get a medic in here! Oh my god! The blood!”

Whiskey and Blood

“I’m not sure what to make of him,” commented the investigator as he took another sip of whiskey.

“He’s definitely an interesting fellow,” the shrink traced the rim of his crystal glass with his finger before taking another drink, grimacing.

“I think he’s a mouthy, son of a bitch,” the inspector chuckled as he placed his glass on the table.

The shrink slid his on the table as well, and flipped through a book.

“I just think it’s odd that he’s so… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Rude?” laughed the inspector.

“Exactly!” exclaimed the shrink, rolling his eyes and slamming the book shut. “It’s like he doesn’t… I don’t know… care! Care about what we think of him, his situation, what he’s about to face in court! I told him that I was the only person that was holding back the case from continuing, and he brushed me off.”

“Well,” said the inspector. “What do you expect? Do you want him to get down on his knees and beg for freedom? Do exactly as you like? Lie down under your psychological microscope and self-dissect?”

“Well, yes!” said the shrink. “I was expecting a charming Ted Bundy who was willing to share everything to keep from getting the chair.”

“I’d imagine that as the reality of the chair sets in, he will become more considerate to your needs. Especially as we get closer to the actual sentencing,” the inspector motioned to the bottle of whiskey on the table.

“Go ahead,” the shrink waved his hand. “I think you may be right. I just don’t want him to go and get himself executed. Have you seen this record? It’s amazing!”

The inspector poured him some more of the amber liquor.

“That’s one word for it,” he laughed nervously. “I call it weird as shit.”

“Well yes,” said the shrink as he snatched the bottle from the inspector and poured him another glass. “But look at the precision of these murders! It’s almost artistic. Terrifying. And beautiful.”

The glasses clinked together and the whiskey went down each of their throats.

“I think you’re just as crazy as he is,” laughed the inspector.

“Maybe so,” said the shrink. “But you have to admit, it’s incredibly impressive what he did out there.”

“I don’t have to admit anything, freak,” the inspector smiled at him.

He looked down at his watch and sighed.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said.

“And?” asked the shrink.

“And I have two more reports to go through before I can leave,” he rubbed his forehead. “And I’ve got to be back up here at fucking eight in the morning.”

“Well, have fun…” said the shrink, already consumed by whatever book he was reading.

The inspector stood up and pushed his chair back under the desk. He looked up at the books that covered the walls of the office.

“You sure do have a lot of books,” he commented, moving his finger across the top of the chair.

The shrink, not looking up, replied, “It’s what happens when you go to school for eight years. They just kind of show up.”

“I guess so,” said the inspector. “Well you have a good…”

An urgent knocking came from the door.

The shrink finally looked up and said, “Come in.”

A guard stumbled in, “you’re going to want to come see this!”

The young man was breathing hard.

“It’s the priority prisoner,” he stammered. “So. Much. Blood.”

The shrink flew out of his chair and he grabbed the inspectors elbow as they pushed past the young guard, and down the hall way.
“No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered urgently to himself.

The party reached the first set of doors.

“LET ME IN!” bellowed the shrink as he pounded on the door.

The inspector pulled out his key card and the door pushed open with a buzz.

The pair of them ran down the hallway of barred cells, all full of criminals of different offenses.

Each and every one of them cooed, hooted, hollered their way, banging on the bars of their cell and trying to reach out as far as they could to grab hold of one of the officials. However, they recoiled like roaches to the light when the guards passed by, knowing they very well may lose a hand.

When they finally reached the top priority cell, the door was already propped open for them.

Paramedics and guards filled the room.

“Get out of the way!” shouted the shrink, as he and the inspector pushed into the room.

They reached the cell.

The door was opened and there was blood all over the floor. There was a metallic bite in the air. It was so strong that they could almost taste it. The bed was knocked over on its side; the sink was pulled nearly off of the wall. However, the most alarming sight in the cell was the newly decorated walls.

“I AM SATAN, FEAR MY GLORY AND TERROR. LOVE ME,” was written across the walls of the cell.

“God!” the inspector breathed.

“IS HE STILL ALIVE?!” yelled the shrink. “Where is he!? I’m going to kill him!”

He stormed out of the cell and grabbed the first paramedic in reach.

“Where did y’all send him?” he demanded.

“He was sent back into the hospital wing,” the worker said.

The shrink pushed him out of the way and ran back down the hallway back towards the prison hospital.

He better not be fucking dead!

Purple Blood and the Shrink

“Hello Mr. Brooks,” a younger man sporting an obnoxious beard smiled at me from across a different table.

This one was wood.

Dark wood.

Expensive wood.

The whole room smelled of money.

The man that was sitting adjacent to me had a rows upon rows of books lined up behind him on a matching bookshelf.

The books read off things like, Intro to Psychopathy, Your Serial Kill and You, Nature vs. Nurture, ect.

Two identical lamps were parked on either side of the desk.

Symmetrical.

The desk was nice and neat.

Just my file lay open on the surface of the dark wood.

That, and a note pad that the shrink was constantly scribbling words down upon.

Unreadable words.

Doctor’s script.

“Hello,” I replied.

This was the shrink. He has come to dig into my brain and find out what makes me “Tic”.

Your blood.

That’ll make me tic.

“How are you today?” he continued to smile at me; however, his eyes darted around in their sockets.

Was he studying my face?

Judging.

“I’m fine,” I slowly said. “You know, except for the whole being in prison thing.”

“Are they treating you well?” he asked.

My left hand instinctively went to my right wrist. The bruises of the cuffs were still fresh.

I looked down and saw the purple streaks that decorated my flesh.

I wonder what would happen if I cut them open?

Would they bleed purple?

I looked back up at the shrink, “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that,” he smarted off.

“Because it’s the truth, what else would I tell you?” my eyebrow raised.

He chucked to himself.

“Mr. Brooks, do you know why they called me in here?” his questions were patronizing.

“Because I’m a sick fuck, and you’re the only person in fifty-kagillion miles that can cure me?” I waved my fingers around my head to insinuate sparkles. “Magic man,” I said.

He tilted his head to the right and squinted at me. That odd grin still plastered his face.

What does his chin look like?

Does he hide behind the beard?

Why?

“False,” he said. “I’m here because I’m the lucky person who got to work your case.”

“So you’re just as crazy as I am then?” I smiled.

“I’m a researcher,” he replied.

“What’s the difference?” I asked. “So, what’s your goal, doc? You dont think you could fix me. So, what are you playing at?”

I held my wrists together and raised them at eye level.

“I’m all your’s,” I grinned.

He frowned.

Finally.

“I’m obligated to listen to your story; because of my job. However, what I’m really after is your biological test results. If you’ll allow it.”

I switched eyebrows.

Allow?

Is he acknowledging my control?

I like him.

He will die.

He will bleed purple.

“What makes your think that I’ll be interested in your personal goals? What do I get out of it?” I asked. “I don’t know you, I don’t care about your pathetic ‘research project’.”
 “I understand that,” he said. “That’s why we have to record your story, for the court.”

“And I repeat: Why the hell should I tell you anything?”

“Because, the case will not proceed without me giving the green light to continue,” he said. “Now, I can go ahead and get your prosecuted now, and then you can beg for more time later to live. Or, you can play it smart and tell me your story now, and they will give you plenty of stalling time before the case is tried. And I could be a valuable witness to you, if the information I get from you is credible, interesting, or pertains to my ‘research project’.”

He stroked his beard with his left hand.

Ring!

He’s got himself a little wife-y.

I looked at him for a moment before continuing.

What is going on with this man?

What’s his motive for doing this.

He doesn’t care about me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because, I believe the killers are evolution’s way of preening the branches of the human civilization. And I want to know how it works. The greater good can be reached through sacrifice. But I also believe it can be achieved through salvation,” he replied.

“Don’t pretend to be a humanitarian, it’s disgusting,” I said. “I’ll have to think about it for a bit before I decide to help you, help me or not.”

“That’s fine,” he said, smiling again.

His teeth glinted the light from the lamps into the rest of the room.

“How long have y’all been married?” I smiled.

He instinctively reached for his ring and twisted it around his finger.

It glinted.

Like his teeth.

Like his blood.

“Five years last month,” was his reply.

“Cute.”

“Yes she is,” he eyed me, no longer smiling.

I struck a chord.

“Does she like your beard?” I asked.

He gave a nervous chuckle, “Nope, I’m afraid not.”

Rebellion.

“I didn’t think so,” I said quietly, now too preoccupied with the bruises on my hands.

Would they really bleed purple, you think?

That would be worth a try.

I could feel my pants get slightly tighter.

Purple blood on a white canvas.

That would be beautiful.

“I’m ready to leave now,” I suddenly stood up.

He mimicked my motions.

I’m not sure if he was being polite, or scared I was going to jump him.

Smart shrink.

I turned around and walked towards the cop that was standing on the opposite side of the room.

I held my hands up to be cuffed.

“I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Brooks?” the shrink asked in a way the implied that I didn’t have a choice.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I turned back around to him. “I’m terribly busy this week.”

“I’d imagine you are,” was his reply.

The cop opened the door and shoved me into the hallway beyond.

“Have a nice night,” he called after me as the door slammed shut.

Whore.

I am Satan, Terrifying and Glorious

White walls.

White walls, white ceiling, white floor, white table, white chairs.

What are we doing here?

What am I doing here?

Oh wait.

I was caught.

NO.

I was Discovered!

I squint up at the light a chuckle to myself for a moment.

Should I be smiling?

Or is this the time people grimace?

It doesn’t matter.

All that matters now is destroying that poor slop that’s about to walk in on me in my glory.

Glory.

I like that word.

Glory.

That’s my new name.

Glory.

My name is Glory, and I am a super star!
It’s all about me, baby.

I stared across the table, across the room towards the steel door facing me.

Cold steel.

Silver steel.

Not white steel.

Whores.

Glory.

I flex my arms and pull my wrists up as far as they will go.

The bracelets shackled me down to the chair.

Smart whores.

They know who their dealing with.

Glory! The Super Star!
Is it time to smile?
The door is opening!
A man walks in.

White man. White room. White table. White chairs. Silver door. Whores! I’m Glory!

The man is dressed in a suit and tie, like he’s fooling anybody.

Any poor man off the street can wear a suit and tie.

He just wants to look important for all the dead-beat cops that clutter the floor in the rooms around.

They clutter behind the glass that we can’t see behind.

Clutter. Dirty. Whores!
“Good evening, Mr. Brooks,” the man looked down his nose at me as he drops a large, manila envelope on the table in front of me.

I look up at him.

What do I say?

Smile! Just smile!
I smiled up at him and replied, “It would be better if I had actually planned this interview.”

Interview.

Stupid, dirty, cluttered, paparazzi whore!

The man took a seat.

“Go ahead, sir,” I said. “Wouldn’t you join me?”
“I’m not going to put up with that shit, punk,” He cut at me.

Rude whore.

He squinted at me behind with his old, gray eyes. I can see the crow’s feet that decorate his temples.

The dark bags under his eyes.

He’s tired.

Gray scruff from the day was littered all over his face. Cluttered all over his face.

Whore.

He slowly opened the envelope, his dark eyes never left me.

I hate dark eyes.

So boring.

Green: Now that’s a nice color!

“I wish you had green eyes,” I whispered to him.

His eyebrow arched, “and why is that?”

“Because,” I said slowly. “Then I could actually stand to look at you. Nothing else seems to look right.”

“Cute,” he rolled his eyes and kept flipping through what looked to be documents, pictures, and other miscellaneous things.

“You need to be more organized,” I said.

“Shut up.”

“Fine,” I replied.

He’s probably scared out of his mind right now.

I can’t blame him.

I am scary.

I am also Glory.

Even though I have been roomed very nicely by myself these past few days, I know exactly what’s going on in the outside world.

People are panicking.

They’re scared out of their minds.

The newspapers have having a field day, “MAN KILLS DOUSINS! POLICE EXPECT MORE VICTOMS TO BE FOUND!” “CRIME OF THE CENTURY!” “GREATER THAN BUNDY, DAHMER, AND GEIN COMBINED!”

They love me. As they should.

I am Glory.

I am also Scary.

My name is Scary Glory.

“Mr. Brooks,” the officer, investigator, sheriff, lawyer, God, whatever he actually is, fancy suit, said.

My eyes gazed back at him.

“Would you mind identifying this young lady, right here,” he slid a portrait of a young woman across the table, to me.

It took me half a second to realize what he was doing.

Fuck.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” I looked back up at him.

“Are you sure?” The fancy suit asked. “Why don’t you look again?”

I glared at him, scratched my face, shifted in the seat and dove back into the dark eyes of the twenty-something year olds portrait.

She had medium length, dark hair, tan skin, a large nose, and big, brown eyes.

She had her hair down, parted to the right, and was smiling at the camera for her “Selfy”.

I could already feel the pressure between my legs intensifying.

I hurt.

It felt good.

I cleared my throat, “That would be an acquaintance, I believe.”

I spoke slowly, looking slightly to the left of Fancy Suit’s gaze.

“Is that all?” he raised his eyebrow. “Do you have a name for me?”

I smiled, “Can’t say that I do. Is she missing?”

“For several weeks now,” he replied.

“Can’t help ya, next please,” I took a small dive into his eyes and pulled out fast enough to try and gage the man’s patience. He was a brick wall.

Fancy Suit then placed a picture of a slender man, with facial hair, light hair, blue eyes, sporting a half smile.

“Nope, not him either,” I chime.

“Look man,” Fancy Suit tries to make eye contact. “I’m just trying to find these people, and I need you to help me. Think about their families. Their friends. Everyone is worried, and we think you can help us.”

I looked back down at the pictures.

My hard on was getting incredibly painful.

I grimace.

“Can we get these cuffs off of me, please? My dick hurts.”

Fancy Suit had his mouth hung open.

“What are you trying to do, moron, catch flies?!”

“You are ridiculous. I’m done. We will just wait for the shrink to get here and deal with you.”

He swiped the pictures off the table, slapped the envelope shut, and stormed out the silver door.

Probably to whine about his failure.

Bitch.

Damn, it hurts.

Two officers walked into the room and unlatched me from the seat.

“You’ve got a long road ahead of you, boy,” said the first cop.

“And we’re going to enjoy watching you squeal like a pig, you sick fuck,” chuckled the other.

I stood up, my hard on fully visible.

“Ha! Look at that Frank!” said the first cop. “Somebody is all excited about this!”

Frank fashioned my arms behind my back and whispered in my ear, “You’re lucky this place is full of cameras, otherwise we would get out of you what the investigator couldn’t.”

He “accidently” brushed his hand across my crotch, stopping slightly to cup my throbbing part for only a moment.

“What we could do to you, boy” the first cop said and he jerked towards the door.

“Probably exactly what I’ve done to every swine that has every lain eyes on me,” I said back to him, smiling.

They exchanged looks and pushed me out of the door and down a gray hallway with doors lining each wall.

They were being rough.

My dick hurt.

We neared the front door to the outside world. To the right, stationed, was a cop waiting to open the door for us. How kind.

The bright sunlight hit my eyes.

The sounds of car, birds, machinery, and people, lots and lots of people, slammed into my ears.

The whole town seemed to have turned up to watch me walk from the police station, next door to the jail house.

I was famous.

There were reporters, bistandards, police, everyone had shown up.

And they all were talking.

Talking about me.

I could feel my chest inflate, just the thought that these people loved me was enough to make me burst.

I love that feeling.

The power.

I rule them

Like a king in a palace.

Except, in a cell.

I control this game.

It’s mine.

 

It took only moments to get back to my cell.

Alone at last.

I sat down on my pathetic cot and looked at the sink and small toilet directly adjacent to me.

My legs curled up against my chest and I sat there, arms wrapped around my knees.

“I’m going to have to tell…” I whispered to myself. “There is no other choice.”

“If I want to stay famous, I just have to give them a little bit of my story for them to chew on.”

“Then I can prepare a sequel that will send them spiraling across the universe."

They love me.

I could feel a small tingle of panic crawl up my spine. It felt like a large centipede crawling up my back and around my neck.

I could feel its sharp legs digging into my flesh as it slowly crawled up and into my hair.

Each of the several dozen legs seems to be frozen over and goose bumps rose up over my body.

My muscled tensed and started to shake.  

I chucked, shaking my body back and forth.

This wasn’t fear.

This was excitement.

I slowly unzip my one piece, orange prison suit, and slip my hand down between my legs.

I could hear the scream of the girl in the picture rattle in my head as I felt the scars she gave me, with her nails, on the inside of my thighs.

The centipede on my back became very excited as I slowly wrapped my cold fingers around myself.

It felt almost like the man’s.

 

I could still feel his body shake in my arms as I slowly gutted him like a fish.

His body shook worse than anyone’s ever had done before.

It felt good.

Whoever that poor shrink is, I hope he’s prepared for the worst.

I slowly moved the palm of my hand to cover the head.

Hell, I hope he has prepared for Satan, himself.

I grabbed on tight and began to twist back and forth.

I am Satan, Terrifying and Glorious.

The screams of the man and woman echoed in the cell walls.

Euphoria.

But I have to be smart, I can’t tell everything I know.

Then they will kill me.

I cant die.

I am Satan.

I am evil.

God sent me here to preach the gospel.

The gospel of lust.

The gospel of hate.

“Ring! Ring!” goes the bells and church is in session!
Step right up ladies and gentleman, for a message you have never heard before!
No more stumbling blindly through the darkness!

No more following laws and rules, and dos and don’ts!

Time to release yourselves to lust! The purest and oldest form of love!

Come my flock!
Follow me to happiness and redemption!

Follow me to the land of true life!
Eat from the fruit that I have provided for you!
Don’t listen to the rules!

Don’t listen to the lies!

Only you can fulfill you!

Only you can truly create a happiness worth having.

A happiness that never ends!

Follow me!

For I am Satan, the Terrifying and Glorious!

I am a super star.
Love me.