“You were arrested and confessed to everything.”
“That’s right, they’d caught me. The countdown, the challenge, whatever you want to call it, difficult, but doable, but ov—on hold, because of Chad.”
“Difficult in a moral way?”
Romeo laughed. “We’ve been talking for months, and you’re so desperate for me to feel guilt, or regret. When you gonna realize it’s not there? I can’t feel those things, and you can hate me for it, find me repulsive, disgusting, but that’s just the way I am. I can’t change it, and you can’t change it either.”
“You don’t feel guilty, or regretful about any of your victims?”
“No. That part of my brain doesn’t work.”
“You don’t know that for sure. Those feelings could be there, but repressed by bad experiences, bad memories—”
Romeo shook his head, then leaned forward, willing her to stare into his eyes. “I’ve got low functioning emotions, and in the case of some, I don’t have them at all.”
“You say you don’t have guilt or remorse, what about anger?”
“What about it?”
“Have you ever felt angry before?”
Romeo looked away, and really thought about it. There were two times in his life when he felt the bitter build-up of anger in his gut. Once when the magpie refused to leave him, and the other when Chad chased him into the trees near Audrey’s home.
“Yes.”
“Are you angry that you failed?”
“More disappointed.”
Holly nodded, noting something else down.
“And how do you feel when Chad visits you?”
A shit load of emotions he couldn’t label or understand, but top of the list after their last visit was concern. He was concerned for Chad, and the past few days had felt longer, and duller, and more brain crushingly boring than usual. He needed it to be Wednesday, he needed to see Chad.
Sometimes he hated Chad for unlocking emotions in him when he didn’t know how to handle them. They weren’t supposed to be there at all. It was damn irresponsible of Chad to detonate a barrel of feelings then just leave him to it.
“He mocks you the other side of the barrier.”
“Mocks me?”
Holly nodded. “The man that should’ve been your number one, sits where I’m sitting now, alive. No mark on his neck, no burned number in his chest. He’s your failure, and it’s never nice to fail, never nice to be constantly reminded of it.”
“You’re right, it’s never nice to fail.”
“Then why accept his visits?”
She’d never understand him and Chad, Romeo didn’t want her to.
“The same reason I accept these ones, to help with the boredom.”
“Do you wish the glass wasn’t between you and Chad?”
“Of course, I do.”
“So you could finally finish what you started?”
Romeo didn’t comment. He glared at Holly until she looked away.
“I don’t want to talk about Chad.”
“It’s hard talking about failure. I understand.”
Romeo snorted, shaking his head. She really didn’t, but she thought she did. Holly wrote something else, then hid the piece of paper beneath another one.
“Is this article almost done?” Romeo asked.
“I’m on the final touches. We’ve gone through your neglectful family, the bullying at school, then in the workplace. The sudden desire to kill after an argument with your old boss. The countdown, the murders. I just need an interesting end. I’m not happy with it.”
“Say I ended up in here.”
“Yeah, but the readers will already know that. That’s the physical ending of your spree, but I want a more reflective ending for my readers.”
“You want me to sit here and say I’m sorry. That I think about the murders every day, that I wished I’d handled myself differently, got help…dealt with the issues in my head, not brought them with me.”
Holly licked her lips, then shot him a cautious smile. “Yeah.”
“Write the truth. I was born a monster, and I’ll die a monster.”
“No,” Holly said, searching through her notes. “We established this was nurture, not nature.”
Romeo shook his head.
“This all could’ve been avoidable.” Holly’s eyes were wide, pleading. “This was a catalogue of negative experiences, that led to this point. That set you on this path. It could’ve been avoided, maybe with some love and understanding … the right person by your side, fighting in your corner.”
She leaned forward in her chair, getting as close to the barrier between them as she could. “I see you, the real you. The neglected boy, the bullied youth, the worn-down worker. All of it built up, you had no channel for it, no outlet.”
Sometimes, Romeo wished he hadn’t lied. It had been entertaining stringing Holly a story, seeing the cogs behind her eyes turn as she sought justification for what he’d done, watching her put her psychology degree into effect, but when she started looking at him with round eyes, subtly nodding, needing Romeo to agree with her theories, it irritated him.
It was time to reveal the truth, or at least part of it.
“You’re wrong. I killed because I wanted to, because it feels good to me.”
Holly gave him a sympathetic smile. “No. You’ve got your walls up, trying to scare me, push me away, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“If that barrier wasn’t there, I’d strangle you to death, right here, right now.”
Paul huffed. “Good luck with your hands like that.”
Romeo glanced back. “Then I’d strangle the two of you.”
“I’d bust open your head before you even moved.”
Fred cleared his throat, a warning to Paul to calm down. Romeo snorted, then turned back to Holly.
“You’re getting defensive, so you threaten.” Holly said, like she solved a puzzle. “You try to drive me away, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone.”
“I only agree to these visits because boredom drives me crazy. Everything I’ve told you about myself has been a lie.”
Holly smiled softly, and Romeo gritted his teeth. He was tensing up, testing the strength of his cuffs. His heart had sped up, and air whistled in and out of his nose.
It was the third time in Romeo’s life he’d gotten angry. Not at Holly as such, but himself, his lies had created this, and anything he said wouldn’t be believed, would only be added to the issues he’d made up. The game he’d played with her had back-fired, just like it had with Chad.
“See, there are emotions, but you repress them. You spent your whole life repressing them. You dehumanize your victims by using numbers, so you don’t feel guilt. You’re in denial over what you did. You know that if you connect with your victims on a personal level, on a human one, the remorse will destroy you. That’s why I think they do it.”
“Who?”
“Killers. That’s why when they feel the net closing in, or they kill until they’re satisfied, they end up committing suicide because they know they wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of what they did.”
“I can’t speak for all of them, but that’s not true for me.”
“It is.”
Romeo wanted to argue, to scream and shout that she was wrong, but he knew it would get him nowhere. She’d made her own assumptions, and he’d been feeding them for months for entertainment. He sagged into his chair and stopped trying to break free of the cuffs. It didn’t matter what she believed, he knew the truth, locked away in his messed-up head. He killed because he felt the need to do it from an early age. The monster grew in his mind as he got older.
Killing felt good to him, it felt right.
“Looks like you’ve already got your ending then. I’m in denial…”
“Yes, I think you are.”
“Then you won’t need to visit me.”
Holly pressed back in her chair, her lips bobbing open and closed. “I
still need to visit you.”
“Why?”
“I feel like we’ve got a good relationship.”
“Relationship?”
Holly shuffled. “I mean a patient psychologist relationship.”
“You’re a journalist.”
“That’s one part of me, I’m here to help you, too.”
“Help me to do what?”
“With time, help you connect with what you did. You’ll open up to me. I want to help you, Romeo, because I feel like no one ever has. I want you to trust me.”
“Why would you want that?”
Holly opened her mouth, eyes glowering, chest out, she looked as if she was about to say something, then glanced at Fred and Paul. She swallowed, before looking down at her papers.
“Because it would be really beneficial to your victims’ families if they heard you felt guilty. If they knew you’d confided in someone about what you did, and the reasons you did it, and admitted you felt bad.”
“They’re gonna be waiting a long, long time.”
The edge of Holly’s lips tilted up, then she schooled her expression into a serious one. “They can wait, and I can wait, too. But for now, Romeo, promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t kill anyone. Don’t complete your countdown.”
Paul grunted. “No chance of that.”
Holly ignored Paul and stared deep into Romeo’s eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“It would be bad for your article … or would it be the fitting conclusion? Countdown killer gets his number one, then hangs himself in his cell.”
“I don’t want you to die.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
Romeo couldn’t care less if it were the other way around.
Chapter Five
Romeo stared at himself in the mirror. Dark hair, masculine shaped jaw, neat stubble, grey eyes, and naturally tall and wide, the perfect frame to add muscle. He was handsome, kept himself in shape, and even when he was young, he had learned the effectiveness of his genetic mask, and the nurtured environment that surrounded it.
He snorted when he remembered the squirrel.
It had already been dead when they found it, but it was Romeo who took it apart with a pen knife.
He was nine years old.
Romeo stuffed its organs into tiny containers, then wrapped it up in toilet paper like a mummy. All Timmy Barnes did was put a Tupperware box on the headmaster’s desk under Romeo’s instructions.
Timmy got the blame.
Timmy, who lived in a trailer park, who had missing teeth, dirty clothes, and an IQ lower than the dead squirrel. The teachers blamed him despite knowing Romeo had been at the school early that morning. Despite knowing Romeo had a high IQ, and an interest—bordering on obsession—with organs, of where they were, what bits to cut to remove them. He had a steady hand in chemistry, didn’t shy from any challenge in biology, and loved learning about the practices of the Egyptians in history.
With all the evidence right there, the teachers still pointed the finger at Timmy, and despite Timmy’s protests, and him telling them the truth, that it had been Romeo, he still got expelled.
The teachers didn’t believe it was Romeo because of who he was, where he was from, his parents, his IQ. There was no way he’d cut into a dead squirrel and take it apart. No way Romeo, the young promising student with the soft eyes and the messy hair, who liked painting, had done something so repulsive.
Romeo raked his fingers down his face. Many times he thought of making himself ugly on the outside, as well as the inside. All he had to do was pick up a razor, a pen, or use his nails, but he didn’t.
His handsome face had been an advantage when hiding who and what he really was. No one could see the monster—not his parents, not his colleagues, not even his old boss. Not any of the people that picked him up in their cars, and certainly not the ones who took him home.
Having an attractive face immediately opened doors, elite opportunities, and he’d walked through every one until his parents died. He didn’t need to pretend the outside beauty was matched on the inside. When his mother died, he could finally give into his desire, and be himself, but only five times, that’s what he told himself. That was his allowance, his target, his goal.
Only five.
“Hey Romeo, you free for another beer?”
He dragged his gaze from the mirror and walked to the bars of his cell. He couldn’t poke his head out, but he could see a hand waving from the cell next to his. Will’s hand.
“Free,” Romeo smirked.
“Did you get to see her?”
Romeo sighed, pressing his face to the bars. “Yes, I saw her.”
“Go on then…”
“She was wearing a white shirt, three top buttons undone, and the bra beneath was pink, hot pink.”
“Yeah, that’s good, and her hair.”
“She wore it down, but her bangs are too short to tuck behind her ear, it falls into her face all the time. She had fake lashes on, red nails, red lipstick, too. She kept licking them.”
Will groaned. “Sounds sexy, tell me more.”
“When she winked, her mascara stuck her eyelids together.”
“Yeah—wait, what?”
“And she carried the distinct smell of horse manure.”
“You’re an asshole, Romeo, you can’t even smell her through the barrier.”
Romeo snorted, shaking his head.
“I’ve only seen her once, but I remember she was hot, like secretary hot.”
“When did you see her?”
“Months ago, she came down here.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were in the yard. That rookie, Ben, walked her down here. She’s smoking hot, sexy voice, one flutter of those eyelashes and I’d spill all my darkest secrets. I got hard when she spoke to me through the bars.”
Romeo rolled his eyes. “Are you that led by your cock?”
“Yes.”
“Why did Ben bring her down here?”
“He’s a twenty-five-year-old rookie.” Will said, in an isn’t-it-obvious tone. “I doubt he needed much convincing from Holly, she’s smoking, a clear eleven out of ten, kid was practically drooling. If she had asked to open the cell he probably would’ve just to please her.”
“He’s got no chance with her, just like Paul’s got no chance with her. She gives them enough to get what she wants, clever girl.”
“Why can’t she write an article on me instead of you?”
“Because you’re not attractive enough.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m not trying to anger you, it’s just a fact.”
“You’re a real heartless asshole.”
“Yes, I am. I’m not gonna cry about it, not anymore, and I’m saying it like it is.”
“We can’t all look like you.”
“Hence my point.”
“Huh?”
Romeo rolled his eyes. “She thinks because I look good, I sound good, I act in a respectful manner, I must be good deep down, too.”
Will groaned. “So what your saying is I should start acting all respectful, then maybe she’ll interview me, and I can drool over her tits.”
“She’s not gonna interview you because you look like the crazy killer you are, there’s no story in that. I, on the other hand, am handsome. I was successful, had money, had nice things, then apparently lost my mind and decided I had to kill someone. I’m interesting. An abnormality in all things serial killers. Serial killers are not supposed to be this hot.”
“You really are an arrogant piece of work.”
“Believe it or not, but I’m trying to make you feel better.”
“How does calling me ugly help me feel better?”
“I’m telling you that if I had your face, she wouldn’t be interviewing me. She’s only interested in me on a skin-deep level.”
“I’d take skin deep in the hope that I might get balls deep.”
Romeo spotted Paul walking towards them. He had a load of letters in his hand, walked straight up to Will’s cell, then mumbled, “Nothing for you.”
“That’s cruel, you know.” Will said.
“That’s why I do it. Romeo back away.”
He perched on the edge of the bed, then Paul approached. He flicked letters through the bars, one at a time, then grinned before marching off. Romeo sighed, then collected all the letters he’d received.
“Your adoring fans.” Will said.
Romeo had stopped opening them months ago. It was all the same. Women telling him they could change him. That he was hot and wanted to get to know him. He’d even had a few proposals, but most of it was sexy talk. Some letters were so explicit they had to be blanked out. At first, they’d been entertaining, but then they became repetitive, dull, and the only entertainment came from passing them to Will and listening to his reaction.
Romeo crouched down at the bars to his cell, and saw Will frantically waving his hand. It was their signal, and Romeo stuck the letters out through his bars, then pushed them hard in Wills direction. The walls too thick for them to pass objects between them, they had to push, and hope the guards were feeling too lazy to bother them for letters. They would’ve been checked first before they were handed out anyway.
“Thanks, buddy.” Will said.
“No problem.”
Boredom was their enemy, and if Romeo could help Will, he would in the hope that one day, he might return the favor.
He listened as Will frantically tore into an envelope, then heard him sniff.
“Perfume.” Will told him, “And a saucy message from Kelly…”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Romeo, oh Romeo, you make me foam-eo…”
“Really?”
“Yep, really. What else rhymes with Romeo though?”
“Nothing.”
“Cameo?”
“It doesn’t rhyme.”
“Yeah, it does, ends in eo.”
Romeo sighed, “Just open another.”
He listened to Will tearing an envelope. “Naughty Nicki.”
Romeo snorted. Nicki always wore lots of red lipstick and kissed the envelope.
“Hey, big guy. I’ve been pushing my blank up my blank till my toes curl. I orgasmed so hard blank blank everywhere, even in my blank. I’d love your blank, I’d be dirty with it. I’d blank blank my blank blank, then blank your blank.”
Two for Joy Page 4
