“Well my daddy named him. And now I’m 8 years old…but I don’t know if I should be talking to you. Daddy always tells me to not talk to people I don’t know.”
“Where is your daddy now? Surly he didn’t leave you here alone.”
“He’s home, he’s sick. My house is right over there.”
“Oh I’m sorry he’s sick, oh you live close, my house is right over here. See were practically neighbors. We can talk, were neighbors right?”
“Well…”
As she stood there smiling at me her puppy walked around in moronic circles as though it thought it was getting away. All I could think of was that she was so sweet, so young and cute. So unaware of everything, and the way the dying October light penetrated her orange locks I was mesmerized at how calm she was. Many little girls would feel threatened by a man of my size, of my intimidating height and sunken eyes. I think I loved her, loved her like a person might love a hamster or Freddie the puppy, I loved her like a little doll, that’s what she was. A little doll.

“Kane… Get on your feet Doc wants to see your crazy ass now. lets go. C’mon man I said to get the fuck up.”
“Already? And only after an hour, the good doctor is finally growing some kajones, that’s balls if you didn’t know pig.”
“Man you call me a pig one more time and I’m gonna get Mitch up here and were gonna drag you bruised and bleeding to the docs office. I really don’t care what condition you’re in when you get there, but you decide if its gonna be with a limp.”
Jones was the warder on my floor, he had kajones to talk to me lie that, but I guess when you’re talking to a drugged up and straightjacketed nutcase its not hard to be brave.
“Fine pig, let’s go. The good doctor awaits, the good doctor idiot.”
I laughed aloud, I always call Dr. Idiot the good doctor, I saw it in some movie one time, it always stuck, even though he was far from being a good anything, he wasn’t even a good coward. He was always breaking the routine. Jones mumbled something I didn’t quite catch. For some reason he disliked me more than most of the loonies here, maybe it was because he was such a clueless bastard, and he was jealous I had more answers than he did.
As usual Dr. Idiot was sitting in his office with his bald little head buried in paper work, trying to look semi important. And as he sat there looking me over, I had those old urges again, how I would love to carve him up, to put him through a meat grinder and sculpt his bones into some modern art masterpiece. He’d be a lot more useful to the waking world that way I think.

“Are we settled now Maxwell?”
I hated it when people called me Maxwell, like some queer Englishmen.
“Oh yes Alfonso, very settled.” I said.
“Please, call me doctor.”
“Only if you call me patient elite that’s what I am aren’t I?”
“Look why are you being so difficult?”
“Why do you tremble like a little girl when I get difficult?”
I smiled at him grimly, my pearly whites laughing in his oily face, I called his bluff, and I could see it unsettled him. His thick hands fidgeted with his papers and his eyes refused to meet my stare. I threw my head back and laughed long and hard”
“Tremble? I don’t know what you mean, but I do have questions I need answered still. You will answer them, or else I will have Warden Jones put you into isolation.”
“My whole life has been nothing but doctor, nothing but isolation, don’t you think that you would be adding to my sickness?”
“ You know that by Christmas you will not be under my observation anymore right? We will be sending you with whatever findings about your condition to the state run lab up state. You know all this right?”
“I know it”
“Then lets make this time more profitable then ok? We only have a month or so.”
“Profitable to who exactly?”
“That doesn’t matter, now then. October 11th you kidnapped Chelsea Kidman; she was nine years old I think did you…
“Eight.”
“Pardon?”
“She was eight years old, with a recent birthday”
“Ok fine, eight years old, what did you do with her?”
“don’t you little files there say?”
“They only say what they found, I want to know in your own definition what you did with her.”
“Why should I tell you anything Doctor the trial is over, here I am, snug in your control. Besides what has happened was between me and her, not you.”
As the words escaped my mouth I had remembered the trial. It was me standing there all shiny in my gorgeous orange state penal uniform with leg jewelry. There was a mob outside waiting for the verdict, a couple hundred I think…that upset me. I know that there should have been more. And if I ever got the chance, I would ensure it somehow someway that there would be at least a few thousand.
“So tell me,” he implored.
“Very well, ill tell you, but just because I’m bored with waiting for you and your egghead friends to figure it all out. Her father was sick, and she lived close by to my house near the park. She was walking her dog and I noticed her from my kitchen window. I thought she was so cute so I went to say hello.”

“Right so were neighbors ok, so I think that as your neighbor and new friend it is my duty to walk with you and Freddie so no sickos can grab you ok? Deal?
“Deal. So what’s your name mister?”
“My name’s Max, what’s yours?”
“Chelsea.”
“Well Chelsea, lets go this way I have some Popsicles in my house we can get one then ill walk you back to your house.” Her eyes lit up, the gray seemed to turn a lively violet with the very idea.
“Yay. I love Popsicles.”
“So do I Chelsea, so do I. They’re my very favorite. I like the cherry ones best. What kind do you like best?”
“I like the orange ones, they’re so yummy.”
She was positively brimming with glee. And they way her little dress swayed under her oversized sweater, well the whole thing was just undeniably cute. Little doll.

“We walked to my house in a few minutes; it was a slight trip across the park. Her dog wagging it’s tiny tail in the breeze following blindly. She never saw it coming; I suppose her innocence was what made me like her so much. See luring children isn’t hard when you can make it seem like it’s a black and white clear-cut image. All I had to do was reassure her that it was she and I then there were they and them, the sickos. We were only a “we” because we were neighbors; see that’s the hook. If you can use some kind of angle like that you can work yourself into any innocent minded persons trust.
Well it didn’t take long when we got to my house, she came in and I locked the door, the windows were shut and there really was no way out.”

“Ok, I know about that, but why her? What made you want her?” the doctor asked.
“Well, I guess it was because she was so pure, see I like pure things. She was so uncorrupted by the world she was like a shining beacon, I couldn’t let her go, not without preserving her 1st.”
“Preserving her?”
“Yes, oh come on doctor you read the files you know the things I do.”
“Your methodology was quite strange, mind explaining it a little, here like this, let me ask you about why you would empty their bodies.”
“ I have to first clean them out, like a fish first you have to take out the garbage, then you got to wash them. So then you can put the formaldehyde in, that keeps them from wrinkling up and all.”
“What did you do with her insides Max?”
“I put most of it in my freezer, but not all of it.”
“That’s true, you sent her heart to her father a few days later, why?”
“all little girls have special bonds with their fathers, I thought it would have been a nice gesture to give him what already belonged to him.”
“I see.”
“It was odd very odd…”
“What was?”
“She didn’t cry like the others. All of the others cried or begged, but she didn’t. she just looked at me with those gray eyes, terrified. When I pulled out my knife from the drawer and she knew there was no Popsicles, she let her dogs leash go and just stood there, waiting.”
“Maybe se was too petrified to move, or scream?”
“I know she was scared, I liked it. I could have told her anything and she would have believed me. When you’re about to gut someone its funny its like you develop some strange bond with them.”
“That’s true Max, I studied about this a while back, terrorists and hostages go through a similar experience.”

Why was he telling me this, I hated him more for it. Like I care what terrorists do, all I know is that he was treating this like it was just some story he’d read about in his files. That thought had me clenching my hands together under the desk. He didn’t realize that the things I did I did because I cared. I cared about those people; they’ll live on forever because of what I did. I was proud and who was this doctor to condescend to me this way and act like my work was only the work of the insane. He had to know, I had to let him know.

“Well that’s very interesting Doctor, but let me ask you something.”
“Yes what?”
“Why must I tell you these things? You treat them like bedtime stories.”
“I have to know your version of the truth, so I can properly diagnose you.”
“Well what do you have so far?” I asked, with a wicked grin crawling across my wide face. It must have been some grin, because when the doctor noticed it he sat rigidly, and I could feel the chills running down his spine from my own seat.
“I…I cant tell you that, it’s against regulation.”
As he quivered those words out I had figured out why I was grinning so wildly. When Jones sat me down on the chair he didn’t notice that it was slightly bent out of shape, the steel of the back was turned up creating a slightly sharp edge, and I hadn’t even noticed that I was sawing off my straight jacket the whole time. I had one thing on my mind then, how much time would I have to get this jacket off, and grab Alfonso pen off the desk and open his big fat neck up with it? Would it be quick enough before he could scream and alert the pig outside, or would I end up in isolation for the rest of my life… that seems so long, it seems so long especially when there’s so much more work I have yet to do. But the jacket was cutting nicely now and here was my chance, this would decide a whole multitude of events, could I make this slob understand, even if for only a few minutes of his dying life.
“You know doc, there is one thing I can do to make you understand these things.”
“And what is that?” he asked…

to the top ya go.

Yeah, I'll just bet you like cherry popsicles.

its not clever to attack someone personally for work theyve done, i dont know how many fiction workshops youve been in, but that is one of the cardinal rules. Also this work does NOT reflect on me, i am not a killer i am not a childer murderer, nor do i think this story romanticizes it either, i wrote this to express something of the twisted mentality and the distortion of reality some people in our society do have. if you couldnt relate to the main character, well gee i would hope not youre not supposed to. duh.

That wasn't intended to be an attack...
I actually thought it was rather clever that the killer said his favorite flavor was cherry, given the other connotations of that word...
Which was what I was saying...

up

it was twisted, kind of clockwork-orangish............ i loved it!
if you don't mind my giving you a little constructive critisism- the grammar is a little jagged but the story itself managed to take attention away from that aspect. you have serious talent and a very good style of writing.

wow.... that's all i have to say......

can you tell me how it was clockwork orangeish???

How did I miss this one? Excellent work!! I look 4ward 2 more-BTW, have u been published professionally? You should!!

i hope i didn't insult you...
i meant in terms of the first person perpective, both main characters were twisted but somehow likable villians (or was that just me?)....i'm not sure how else to explain it, the plots were nothing like each other, it was just the feel of it.
i hope that made some sense.

i wasnt insulted at all, i was just wondering if you thought it was because of the bad guy telling the story kind of thing. thas all.

Creepy, but in the good way.

Woah this is a kickass story!!!!!!!!!!

Khardis, I liked your story, Im into creepy shit like that. I wanna have your babies too!!!!

lol

Lenny. x

I thoroughly enjoyed this piece..

I disagree with you slightly as to the romantisicising of the killings.

By making the main character the killer, you do invite carthartic empathy with the the killer and his actions. if you didn't then the piece would be ananathma to the reader and unreadable.

I found it very readable.

Maybe romantisicising isn't the word I wanted, maybe carthartic empathy is indeed better..

Neon

Billy: I really like your story...I could actually read it. Which is saying a lot because as I am reading I usually go through to check mistakes as I am reading and sometimes miss the whole point. But, you can spell there buddy.

I do want to know more about what "Max" did to the little girl and the doctor. More details...fleshy violence maybe....

*hugs*