Behind These Walls

by Paul Anthony Williams

  Stout had entered the steam room, as great bellows of steam filled the room...a sea of white cloud filled my view from the small glass windows opposite the door to the steam room. I glanced towards the door and noticed the steam control buttons on the other side of the door...a thought entered my mind...lets turn up the heat shall we.

  I pressed the control to increase heat and steam as the temperature dial began to slowly rise..a mild spluttering began then a cough which turned to a choking noise as Stout staggered to the door...I prepared myself as the door to the steam room burst open as a massive train of smoke cloud came forcefully out of the steam room...and through the steam a shadow staggered coughing and wheezing violently as I walked forward silently and with purpose.

  Stout staggered towards me blinded by the vast cloud around him of steam..there a shadow before him..he called out “Hello Celia? Joanna? Is that you?” those were his final words as the marble statue crashed upon his head sending him and his body flying backwards. The body crashed upon the tile flooring cracking a few as the big brute bounced once upon them.

  “Well then...I better make the arrangements then...shall we?” I whispered gingerly into the unconscious Stout as I began to haul his large frame of a body towards the door that led into the main part of the home. “Jesus...you are fucking heavy, I suppose it’s all those high court lunches you fat pig!” I remarked as I heaved his body into the main house.

  Soon we found ourselves within the study of the house...I had bound Mr Stout by his hands and legs with two separate lengths of rope and had balanced his body between the top of the two chairs, his hands and arms bound to one and his feet and legs to the other.

  A silent moan came from awakening Mr Stout whose mouth had been gagged with a handkerchief forced into his mouth and a scarf wrapped around to keep it in place...a small silk scarf no doubt a present for Mrs Stout but handy in my case as well.

  “Well it seems you are coming round...now take it easy as things may seem a bit woozy at first...but the truth shall unveil itself to you when things become more focussed....all I require is for you to listen and listen well, at this moment you are balanced between two chairs and bound to both.

  I have searched through this fine house of yours, such fascinating sculptures and knick knacks about...including this fine looking Smith and Wesson .460 Magnum...beautiful chrome barrel and soft leather handle, is it custom made?...yes very fine workmanship indeed.” I quietly spoke in Stout’s ear as he whimpered in fear as he gazed unfazed at the barrel of the gun pointing straight at him.

  “You see I am an artist at what I do...I admit at first there were mistakes....messy mistakes, but with time comes perfection and perfection has it’s prize at the end.” I replied as I slowly pressed the trigger. A concerto of flashes from the window highlighted the brief dramatic conclusion to our conversation, as I concluded my business and quietly slipped away into the shadows of the night.

  “So you shot him dead?” asked Michelle who seemed unsure what would be my reply...

  “There was a conclusion...but I finished what needed to be done with his blood..and a simple paintbrush.” I sat and calmly replied..

  “A paintbrush?” retorted Michelle, as she scurried through her pile of notes that lay before her upon the desk.

  “Yes, I use a paintbrush to write a lovely message upon the wall or near the body....a little nice touch for the police to find and something cryptic for the idiots to dwell upon.” I replied as my fingers tapped upon the desk top as it made Michelle uneasy..

  “Have you ever felt that tingle upon your skin?, that feeling of eyes peering from the shadows as a cold stare sends shivers down your spine?....that will be v, me, and as my first kill learnt it is wise not to upset me.” I replied casting a half smile that turned Michelle’s stomach even more.

  “I think we will end the interview there for now....I think we should continue another time.” commented Michelle, as she started to collect up her things...a faint trickle of urine dripped from between her legs. The feeling made her more rushed to leave the room.

  I inhaled the faint remnants of the aroma of urine within my nostrils... “pissed your pants did we?....I bet your panties are all soaking wet now...bet they were all sweating and soaked before you pissed in them...made you wet didn’t I?” I sarcastically commented as Michelle rushed from the room and down the corridor as the waterfall between her legs flowed furiously, as the corridor was filled with the faint cackling of my laughter....

  Chapter Two: The Warden

  He was furious...again the little shit had gotten his way again, and as he peered through the one way glass window he knew that the little prick was enjoying every last moment of the charade before him. This was just a fucking game to him and took great joy rubbing the Warden’s face in the verbal shit pile uttered from his lips.

  The Warden turned his gaunt face away from the one way window that looked into the interview room, the creature lurking within the shadows disgusted him, truly more than any of the inmates of the Misty Eye Asylum. This creature had been responsible for the death of countless people, and of the countless people one had been his wife Mary.

  She had been a sweet Norfolk girl with fiery red hair and the most gorgeous twinkling eyes you had ever seen, and that monster had ravaged her body and soul and tortured her to the brink of his own sick satisfaction. The Warden turned fully away and walked from the adjoining room, and made his way towards his office at the end of the long dark corridor.

  Michelle had reached her car as the pee infested panties clung onto her legs, dripping like a wet rag. She looked around the car park to see if anyone was around...good she was alone, she quickly whipped the urine fragrant undergarments from her person and disposed of them into the glove compartment of her car. The cold morning breeze rattled up her tight skirt, trickling a slight coldness across the tender damp inner skin of her legs.

  The feeling of dread of being in close contact with that monster had definitely sent a shiver down her spine, nearly as cold as the breeze wafting across her exposed parts beneath the damp tight fabric of her skirt... but deep down something else had awoken within her...she couldn’t sense it yet but something was awakening within the depths of her soul... something dirty...something forbidden...a feeling of erotism and a slight desire crept into her mind.

  She emptied all these thoughts from her mind as she climbed into her car, turned on the lights and quickly drove from that creepy shit-hole of an Asylum and soon her car had vanished into the night.

  The Warden soon reached his office, the door was a deep mahogany brown clearly it had seen the best days of it’s life years ago. The door had looked scuffed and dated compared to probably a few years ago, but that could have been said about the entire facility which itself looked dated and run down. The Warden opened the door which led into a rather pokey looking office, which contained a rough scuffed desk which was topped with documents, files and unopened letters.

  The Warden sat down at his desk and opened the left side drawer of the desk, there it sat like the sad reminder of his tortured soul staring back at him. The photograph was slightly faded but the picture was still good enough quality for the familiar red haired beauty to stare back into the Warden’s tired heartbroken eyes, next to the photograph lay the other demon gnawing at his soul...the bottle of whiskey looked back up at him...the same whisky bottle that hounded his thoughts and dreams since Mary’s death, now called out to him once more.

  ‘Drink me...taste me upon those dry lips..you know you need me...you know you want me’.... the same words crashing through his head over and over again. His hand hovered nervously over the bottle, his other hand had already grasped the empty glass next to the bottle. He didn’t even blink as the top of the bottle was whipped off quicker than he could say ‘Save Me Mary’.

  The glass was soon filled with a double shot, and was quickly despatched down the Warden’s throat. He sat back staring at the vast mountain of paperwork upon his desk, various files
and letters piled high before him in a multitude of colours and sizes.

  The two blue files had caught his eye as he poured a second double shot of whiskey into the glass, as he reached over towards the left hand pile and took the two blue files from it. The files were sealed and had both black marker inscriptions upon the front of them.

  ‘Patient 15' and ‘Patient X’ were the headings on each of the files, he opened the one marked ‘Patient 15'. Inside was a brief synopsis of the individual, as well as a handful of Dictaphone tapes. He opened the right hand side drawer of the desk and from the drawer pulled out a Dictaphone. He placed the first tape into it and pressed play...

  “Patient 15 is indeed a seriously disturbed individual, she is in her mid-twenties and is prone to various changing moods. These moods have no warning and various personalities come and go within her like the flicking of a light switch, one follows another without a pause between.”

  “She has become fixated with fellow serial killers, there is one she calls her ‘chosen one’ though she has yet to reveal this person’s identity. There seems to be a delicate love attraction to this person or a version of what she seems to think or relate to a relationship with the person in question.”

  “There have been countless cases of violence between the patient and fellow staff members and other patients within the Asylum. There have been cases of Patient 15 stabbing a fellow patient with her fingers. The victim received fingers through her eye sockets as Patient 15 ripped the eyes from the poor soul and then ingested said eye balls down into her system.”

  “It has now come to my decision to separate her from the other inmates here, and put her into solitary confinement for the safety of herself but more importantly the safety of the fellow inmates. She has begun humming a distorted song....mumbling words to herself but I am unable to hear what she has been saying.”

  “Case report Patient 15 compiled by Dr. James Westerway....end of report.”

  The Warden took the tape from the player and placed it back into the file it came from, he then picked up the other file marked ‘Patient X’ from the desk. He proceeded to open the file and retrieve the tape from within it, placing it into the player and pressing play upon the deck...

  “Case report Patient X compiled by Dr. James Westerway.”

  “Due to the priority placed on this individual, and the sensitive nature to the case, it is my belief that this individual be placed into solitary immediately, the Patient is indeed a risk to each and all the staff within the Asylum.”

  “The following is an excerpt from an interview between myself and the inmate dubbed ‘The Dark Poet’ or for official records Patient X.”

  “Good morning Patient X, how are we today?”

  “Greetings dear Dr. Westerway, it is indeed and always a pleasure to form conversation with your good self, though I really must ask to drop the silly ‘Patient X’ title and call me by my proper title....or DP if required.”

  “Very well DP... explain what happened this morning with fellow inmate Andrew Reed, I believe you both came to blow over a certain matter. Could you explain to me what occurred?”

  “There are moments in time, such as these that one does not mess with another person’s property....there will always be a line, and that poor useless fool stepped across that very line. He caused me great concern as he ripped my favourite sweater and as revenge I ripped something special from him.”

  “But surely the injuries towards Mr. Reed do not balance out to the damage caused to a sweater?” replied the doctor.

  “Oh my dear Doctor, it is very much the same balance as I tore apart the chair and used the chair leg to bludgeoned the fat fool to an inch of his life, and ripped his eyeballs from his sockets and had him feast upon them....swallowing them whole down his fat bloated throat, I then took the chair leg and sent it straight through the fool’s heart and watch the fat fool’s life ebb softly away from him..I sent the other chair leg up his fat blubbery ass...so he looked like a poor excuse of a block of fatty kebab meat”

  “Yes DP, I heard he died from his injuries...does that make you happy that you took another person’s life?”

  “No....my dear Doctor it does not make me happy that I rid this stupid world of another fat useless cretin to pollute the air we breathe...it is pure ecstasy.”

  The Warden switched off the player, and took another double whisky down his throat trying to not think of how this monster made his stomach crawl, he replaced the tape back into the file and placed it back upon the pile on his desk... his eyes glancing down once more upon the faded photograph in his desk of Mary, knowing all too well she would be on his back about the bout of drinking he had ingested.

  He replaced the bottle back into the drawer of his desk finishing off one final glass of the strong whiskey before moving towards the couch in the opposite side of the office, lying down he thought he would try and get some sleep in as the whiskey had started to make him feel drowsy.

  Laying back upon the soft leather couch, his eyes had already decided to begin crashing down as soon as his head hit the arm. Slowly...slowly...he tried to fight it....slowly....slowly....tried but failed....as the eyes finally slammed shut and everything went black as a strong whiskey snore rippled around the office, as the Warden fell into a deep slumber.....

  From the darkest corridor....in the darkest part of the Asylum....a soft ripple of a man whistling bounced from wall to wall....corner to corner...side to side. The whistling came from behind a strong steel secured door...

  Chapter Three: In A Dark Corner

  I was whistling as I lay upon my bed, I knew that the whistling would travel through the empty corridor and into the darkness of the shadows that lay beyond the steel door to my cell. I knew that the usual guard would be doing his daily checks....shuffling his big feet as he drags himself past my door, clinking his keys as he shuffles past.

  “Stop that horrible noise!, it is giving me a migraine.” came the booming voice from the opposite side of the door. “Ah good evening Liam, I hope you are well this fine morning....I didn’t mean to offend your lug holes with my divine whistling, is the wax within them rippling loose from the vibrations of my voice?” I replied in a slightly sarcastic undertone.

  “Stop them fancy words!, I don’t understand them fancy words you spit out.” replied Liam through the door.

  I chuckled to myself.....finding the humour within a boring day was just a simple game I would like to play, and teasing Liam was just a sheer pleasure as simple as he was....he was putty within my hands and he was easy to shape and form into my own vision....a thought I knew that would come handy in the future.

  “Did you get that book I sent you?” I said softly towards Liam through my side of the door.

  “Yes....but some of them words are difficult to read.” came the reply from the opposite side of the door.

  “Pursue them dear boy...I will get you to read if I have to, my days are boring in here at least let me educate you to improve your reading skills.” I retorted as I lay upon my bed.

  “I shall try DP....I shall try.” Liam replied as he continued on his way down the corridor chinking his keys as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone with my whistling...that returned trickling through the dark corners of the corridor.

  Michelle had arrived home...which was a dingy apartment cluttered with the memories of her past, a collection of soft cuddly toys lay cluttered across a nearby shelf...depicted a lost youth still yearning for recapture. She staggered through the door towards the kitchen area where the washing machine resided within, her inner legs still with the near fragrant whiff of dried urine settling upon the soft patches of skin, her movement was a mixture of a limp mixed with a waddle. Michelle opened the door to the washing machine and threw the slightly damp panties into the darkness of the machine’s drum, she then turned towards the direction of the bathroom, and moved to cleanse herself of the dried crust of urine settled upon her legs.

  Michelle climbed out of the c
lothes that seemed to cling upon her ample body, soon her naked frame was unshed from the clothes as she entered the shower, switching it on and entered the fresh flowing stream of clean warm water trickling across her naked breasts, her hands tracked across her body tracing across each and every curve upon it.

  She closed her eyes as her hands touched every delicate part of her body....cleaning herself...washing herself...and then there it appeared, the vision inside her mind....the image of the Dark Poet emerging from a dark corner of her mind. The secrecy and mysterious image of DP emerging from and disappearing into the darkness of the shadows. She whispered out a whelp when she realised that her hand had found her most private and delicate area, and was now fingering herself totally unaware she had been doing so, but there she was busy thinking of the Dark Poet and she was ‘getting off’ to the thought of him...she immediately stopped and let the warm waters of the shower cleanse the thought from her mind...

  She stepped from the shower, as the beads of water slowly dripped from the silken satin sheen of her damp skin, the light coming from the nearby window hit the beads as they silently cascaded down her body, drops of water dripped effortlessly from the beautiful ample breasts as they bounced perfectly up and down as she walked from the bathroom towards the nearby bedroom..